Chapter Eight
Grayson
I don’t know her name,” I explain for at least the tenth time. “She works at the Tremaine Diner, over on Fourth and Saint Fleury Boulevard. She’s blonde, blue- eyed ...”
I trail off, because the three women opposite me at this table have just gone silent .
“So you have no name, no address, no phone number, no nickname...” the first one says. She’s very no-nonsense, with short brown hair and big brown eyes .
“No,” I admit .
“And even though we’ve found pictures of everyone who’s listed as working at this diner, she’s not among them,” the second woman says, a slightly chubby girl with crazy red hair and a button nose .
“How sure are you that she exists?” asks their boss. She’s in her fifties, outfitted in an elegant business suit, and wears her gray hair like a helmet. The kind of woman that simply seems incredibly competent .
“I’m not crazy,” I say. “Try checking the employees who have quit recently, or just started? How up-to-date were the records you looked through ?”
“Very,” says Competence Herself .
“You’re sure it was that diner?” says redhead .
I bury my head in my hands .
“Check all the diners,” I say. “Just fucking find this girl, okay ?”
I glance up. They’re looking at each other .
“I’ll compile a list of all the diners in a half-mile radius,” No-Nonsense Brunette says .
“No, all the diners,” I insist. “I’m not insane. She was there, I saw her. Maybe it was a different diner, but this girl needs to be at the ball .”
They all stare at me in silence, and I realize that with the last sentence, I just slammed my hand onto the table in front of myself. I lift it up silently, then stand .
“Thank you,” I say, then walk out of the room .
* * *
I don’t know what’s happening. Planning this ball has taken up most of the past couple days — I think George nearly died when my father told him he needed to organize an enormous ball within a week — but all I can think about is the waitress .
I’ve gone back to the diner every day. Fuck, I’ve gone to half the diners in the city, because I was half-drunk and half-hungover and I’m not even sure I remember which one it was .
And I haven’t found her again. Even though my memory of this girl is crystal clear enough for me to jerk off to twice a day, I’m starting to think that maybe I am crazy. Maybe the event planners I was just talking to are right, and I just made this girl up in a drug and alcohol-fueled haze .
As I’m walking down a palace hallway, my phone buzzes. It’s Declan, asking if I want to go out with them tonight since I had to miss the World Cup .
I think about it for a moment .
This is exactly what you need , I think. Go out, get laid — get laid twice — and get your mind off this waitress who might not even exist .
Just play it low-key and don’t get into trouble with your father .
I text back Hell yes! and he texts me a champagne bottle emoji, and suddenly I’m relieved to be doing something .
Besides, they’re not gonna believe what happened while they were in Florence .
* * *
“You are fucking kidding me,” Beckett says .
“I wish,” I say, taking a long drink from my champagne glass .
“Settle down meaning get married ?” Kieran says, his face simply astonished .
The four of us are in the back of the Sapphire Spot nightclub. On the dance floor, lights are flashing and the beat is thumping, scantily-dressed people gyrating everywhere .
I should be having a great time, but I’m not really. I try to make myself watch a girl on the dance floor shake her ass and lean over, practically showing everyone her tits, but it doesn’t even hold my interest .
“Yup,” I confirm, leaning back in the booth. “That’s what he meant. Get hitched or get disinherited, my choice .”
Declan just shakes his head .
“You know what that means, right?” he says .
I shrug .
“You gotta go out with a bang,” he grins .
I force myself to grin back, even though I don’t really feel like it right now .
“That’s exactly the point,” I say, and the rest of them laugh so I must sound sincere. “Just don’t get me busted, guys. If I show up in the papers again I’m toast .”
Twenty minutes later, our booth is practically flooded with girls. Declan’s got one on his lap and one next to him, and they’re alternating between making out with each other and making out with him .
There’s three over by Beckett and Kieran, and though they’re all giggling and laughing, each of them has his hand on the same girl’s ass. I think I know which one they’re sharing tonight .
And me? There’s a redhead on my lap, though her hair is almost definitely fake, and she’s squirming around like a snake or something. Her tits are fake, and I can see her nipples through the shimmery pink material. After all, she’s practically shoving them up my nose .
“I’ve heard you’ve got a nickname,” she says in a baby-sweet voice, one finger on my chest. Like she’s suddenly coy or something .
I slide my hand over her ass, and even though it’s a nice ass, my cock doesn’t even twitch .
“And what’s that?” I say, my response practiced after hearing this a thousand times .
She smiles and leans in, her lips close to my ear .
“His Royal Hardness,” she purrs .
Too bad right now His Royal Hardness is limper than a wet spaghetti noodle .
“Do they,” I say, the words on autopilot. “Why do they say that ?”
Her finger makes its way slowly down my chest, her lips still close to my ear. I close my eyes because of the sudden unpleasant prickling making its way down my spine .
“Because I’ve heard you have a king-sized cock and you know how to use it,” she whispers, her hand now on my lower belly .
A wave of revulsion passes through me, and suddenly I need to leave, now . I need her to get off me and I need to go outside and be somewhere, anywhere else .
I take a deep breath. I’ve never tried to get myself out of this situation before, so I’m not quite sure how to do it .
“Would you mind getting up for a moment?” I ask, politely as I can .
She pouts, not getting up, so I turn on the charm and grin at her as wickedly as I can .
“If you’re going to be a naughty girl, I’ll have to punish you when I get back,” I say, lowering my voice until it’s a growl while I palm her ass, then squeeze. “And you know how I punish naughty girls .”
“Do you promise?” she purrs, fluttering her eyelashes .
“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” I say, blatantly staring at her tits .
It works. She stands, wobbling slightly in her sky-high heels .
“I’ll be right back,” I say, and leave. I don’t even say goodbye to the other guys — they’ve all got their faces buried in their respective women, and they’ll figure out that I’ve left eventually .
I head toward the men’s room, but instead of heading in I push open an exit door into an alleyway, and as it clicks behind me, I take a deep breath of the clear, cool night air .
I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’ve never done that before, turned down a hot, ready-to-go girl, but I suddenly just had to get out of there .
Unbidden, I think about the waitress, yet-a-fucking-gain. How if she were wriggling like that on my lap I’d already be balls deep inside her, watching her face as her eyes rolled back as she felt every inch of me .
And fuck, there’s His Royal Hardness. Goddamn it, why couldn’t that happen a minute ago with the redhead ?
I consider going back in and seeing if I can keep it up for her, but I’m just not in the mood. Instead I call my driver to pick me up, then head home early .
At least I won’t be in any goddamn tabloids .