Between Desire and Denial: A Fake Dating Romance (Hardy Billionaires)
Between Desire and Denial: Chapter 18

That afternoon, my mind raced through my memories, through my childhood and high school years. When my father went to meetings with the board, I wondered now what those meetings consisted of. And then I mourned the fact that none of us were close enough to discuss something like this.

How had I fallen so far from the family tree? How had I lost such an integral part of me?

I knew how, but I didn’t want to accept it.

I thought of stories I’d heard as a child about secret societies, of the tales we told each other until we got to high school and realized they weren’t true. And then I thought of Knox, of what he must know, of what he was going through. I called him but was sent to his voicemail. I called him again. And again. And again.

“Olive, I don’t want to talk.” He finally picked up the phone and I almost dropped it with just hearing his voice.

“Knox! You answered,” I stuttered.

“To tell you to stop calling,” he ground out. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“Where? Are you home?” I heard men in the background. “Are you with Dad because—”

“I’m with Dad out of town. Stop texting and calling.”

“But we should talk.” I hesitated for a moment. “Without Dad. And without Georgette. We need to talk, and you need to—”

“Stop bothering me, Olive. It’s for the best.” He hung up and I was left wondering what to do. Did I text him and push him further? How involved was he? And if he wasn’t, I didn’t want to ask and get him involved.

That left me with the book I’d schmoozed Esme into giving me before I left the library. She’d given me her number and said I should call her with questions—only her, no one else. It was old and leatherbound and held secrets not even I was certain I could keep.

I told Dimitri I was going to work on my thesis and he nodded, waving me off in the living room. He was busy working and I would be busy reading the rest of the night in the primary suite where I closed the door behind me. I started to read about how this society was men and women walking among us with much more pull than I could ever have imagined.

They were entangled with the government, law enforcement, investors, and such influential people that they could sway decisions on every aspect of the community. I read how they went from implementing small changes in a school a hundred years ago to influencing how and where drug cartels land within the state.

I took notes, mapped out relationships, figured out how embedded this society was in about everything I’d ever known. They were connected in the highest social circles of business tycoons around the world. An online search revealed they were also connected to a biker club. It was all hearsay, but it made sense.

No mafia.

The Diamond Syndicate was founded hundreds of years ago in Europe and the mastermind wanted a group of knights to protect the morals of society along with influencing power to do right. When they migrated to the United States, they kept those morals and brought extreme amounts of money over. Yet, they kept the syndicate as a sort of secret society where they could mold laws, increase power, and exercise influence. Supposedly in the last couple hundred years, in this region, they kept the mob from infiltrating communities that were near, kept men and women from paying for protection. They claimed that they would strive for an idyllic community around it.

Except power breeds greed, and some had fallen victim to giving up communities to the mafia. Some were corrupt. And exceptionally powerful.

It made sense that Paradise Grove would push back on Dimitri’s offices if the companies he were bringing in didn’t align with the Diamond Syndicate.

I knew that Dimitri’s sisters had married Armanellis, a powerful Italian mob family. That family wasn’t listed anywhere in this book. Could they be a direct threat to the Diamond Syndicate? Dimitri bringing that link to this community could potentially disrupt their harmony.

I noted how this society must have influenced our town. I started writing it into my thesis, although I wasn’t sure what I would end up using.

The excitement I felt being able to put it down on paper, to expand the history of this community, to tie in how it affected the greater society, it felt like a perfect thesis at first. Yet, when I came to the descendants of the Diamond Syndicate, the excitement was squelched.

I saw my mother’s parents pictured, a wedding photograph printed in there.

My mother had never told me she was a part of the syndicate, never once said a thing to me about them.

And I couldn’t figure out why. I racked my brain, but I knew I couldn’t tell Dimitri about this until I learned more, until I knew why my mother kept it a secret from even me.

I was so deep in my reading that I didn’t feel the migraine until I glanced up at the time. I found myself squinting away a visual aura and having to wobble to put away the book in a dresser drawer before I laid down for an hour-long cat nap.

I woke to Dimitri still in the living room on the phone like he was planning to be there all night.

And even though I was thankful my headache subsided, I was now irritated he hadn’t come to bed yet. Every night, I’d fall asleep to him lying on his side, his body heat warming mine. It was clear he didn’t care to do the same. I sighed as I looked over at myself in the mirror. I’d made sure to wear big, baggy clothes to bed more for my own sanity than anything else. Yet, I spent every night sweating in those long pants.

If he didn’t even come to bed early to talk with me before falling asleep, it was obvious he wasn’t thinking of me in the same way I’d been thinking of him. So, I stomped over to my dresser again and flung off my sweater. I was going to sleep in the crop top and shorts I normally did.

I’d be just as comfortable as him now, and I wouldn’t think about him one bit. Who thought about people that were just friends anyway? We were platonic, and I could keep things that way. I would deny any other feeling I had from now on. I ripped the sheet away from the pillow just as I heard his voice down the hall.

He walked into the bedroom in time for me to act like I was gently, without any rage, folding down the soft white silk duvet filled with down. I turned to say, “You finally decide to—”

But he held up his hand and then pointed to the phone. “No. The governor of Hawaii declared a climate emergency.” He laughed at the person on the other line. “You realize their water levels are less dangerous than Florida’s, right? We need to be diligent with this investment even if it comes at a loss.” One more pause to listen. “I’m sure it will. You shouldn’t have invested if you didn’t know the risk. Now, my girlfriend needs to talk with me. So, call my assistant in the morning if you need to discuss something further.” He hung up the phone and took a deep breath as he scanned my pajamas. “You’re going to bed?”

I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Um, yes. It’s eleven.”

“You’ve been in here for hours.”

“Right. I was working on my thesis and then I napped after getting a migraine.”

He stopped walking mid step and looked up with concern. “You’re still getting migraines?”

“It’s fine.” I waved him off. “It’s just stress. I took a nap, and it went away.”

Still, he walked to my side of the bed and put his hand on my waist to look closely in my eyes. “Come get me if you have a headache next time.” Then he had me step back as he moved between me and the bed. “I can turn down the bed, Honeybee.”

“So can I, Darling D,” I singsonged.

“But you don’t,” he clarified as he started folding the sheets down. “I do. And if you’re ready for bed, you come get me.”

“For what?” I said as I let him fiddle with the blankets. He seemed to think fluffing my pillow a certain way was helpful to me. I didn’t correct him. The man was attentive if nothing else.

And right then, it occurred to me that every night this week, he had actually stopped working when I told him I would be retiring to our room. I’d say, “You don’t have to come to bed with me,” but he’d still come anyway.

He frowned at me. “You haven’t talked to me at all today. Normally, we lie down and you divulge something.”

“Oh, so you’re coming to bed for information?”

“How am I supposed to learn about the mother of my future children otherwise?”

“Oh, don’t start with that.” I waved him off. “And if you wanted to know about your friend, you could ask. I’d have an opportunity to tell you before bedtime if you weren’t on the phone all day.” The reply flew out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“I’m not getting the sweet honey today. I’m getting Olive with bite, I see.” He looked me up and down, and I took another step back.

We’d gotten along fine this week. I shouldn’t have any complaints. Yet, he’d been extremely nice, too nice, like he didn’t want to jump my bones with the same fervor in which I wanted him. Still, it shouldn’t have been his concern. I knew that. I rubbed at my temples because my head was starting to hurt. “I’ve just had a long day.”

“Your head still hurt? How bad do these migraines get? You said you asked your doctor about them.”

“I get visual auras sometimes. But I’m good about it. Nothing to worry about, really, according to the doc as long as …” Here he was getting information out of me.

“As long as what?” He smirked.

“Nothing.”

“Come on. Tell me,” he said softly.

“It’s just stress. The doctors keep saying it may be hormonal and that maybe switching my birth control could help but—’

“They think it’s your medication?” He sounded shocked. “Why are you on it then?”

“It’s not. It’s fine.” I waved it off. “I get them when I’m working a lot, and I was doing a ton with my thesis. You get it. You worked most of the day too.”

He nodded after rearranging the pillow one last time, then he turned to face me head-on and took a step toward me. “I have.” He motioned for me to get in the bed, then he pulled the sheets up close to my chin and tucked the blankets around me like I was a child he was taking care of.

“What are you doing?”

“Tucking you in tight.”

“Don’t want the bed bugs to bite?”

“With what you’re wearing, Olive, I just may bite.” A smile slipped. At least he had noticed and wasn’t as immune to me as I’d thought. “You’re blushing.” He dragged a finger across my cheek. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“We’re technically friends, right? Complete friend zone and all?”

“I’m regretting that idea more and more every day.” He sighed and tucked in my left side a little tighter.

“It’s the right idea. I’m fresh out of my relationship with Rufford, who made me incapable of trusting anyone. And I’m sure you sleep with women in every state you fly through.”

He chuckled. “I’m not just flying around states.” See, he didn’t deny it. It meant he had women in other freaking countries too.

“Right. So, when you say things like you might just bite me instead … I’m really not sure—as just a friend—if I should tell you not to or indulge and say I don’t mind a bite here and there.”

He let out a low growl but didn’t really say what he wanted one way or the other. He just kept looking at me with those green eyes, like he was assessing all the things. “You give me the go-ahead and I’ll fucking ravage you right now, Honeybee.”

“Again, not sure what to say.”

“You don’t have to say a damn thing. I just want you to know it.” He took a step back and sighed. “My day has been particularly frustrating. So, we should get some rest.” Right after he said that, he looked down at me and reached behind his head to pull his shirt slowly over his body.

I watched the shirt rise inch by inch and every ab of his appeared below it. The V of muscle showing on the edge of his slacks was much more defined than any other man’s I’d ever seen. I had the urge to drag my tongue across it and started imagining how it would taste.

“I’m going to shower,” he said through what might have been clenched teeth, then he disappeared into the bathroom.

My desire for him was getting out of hand, and I refused to envision the water running down every ab, the way his arm would flex as he washed his hair, how big his—

I grabbed my phone to look at my dating app instead. I would replace someone to talk to. I even swiped right and messaged a few guys, determined to do better.

I wouldn’t fall for a friend, especially not when he was a Hardy who could have any woman he wanted. I’d already made a fool of myself by getting cheated on by Rufford. Not again. Plus, I wanted to experience different things. I’d told Dimitri that time and time again. Back to swiping.

His eyes were nowhere near as interesting as Dimitri’s. They didn’t pierce my soul. Left.

That jawline couldn’t compete with any Hardy brother. Left.

There was no way he was as tall as Dimitri. Left.

I sighed deeply and I heard, “That guy looks like an asshole. Swipe left again.” I jumped and turned to see abs with water droplets now on them.

“Jesus, Dimitri. Put some clothes on.” I covered my eyes so I wouldn’t keep looking at his half-naked body.

“Olive, I have a towel on.” He chuckled and went into the walk-in closet only to come back with shorts on but no shirt.

“Are you sleeping without a shirt on again?” I said, frustration laced in my tone.

“Are you sleeping in what you’re wearing?”

I took a deep breath. “I can change if it makes you uncomfortable.” I was regretting my decision to get his attention now that I had to stare at his response.

“I’m not uncomfortable with your bare legs next to me.” He walked to his side of the bed where he grabbed the pillow from next to my head and placed it at my feet. Sleeping with his head at my feet was so juvenile and yet completely necessary at this point. I was too attracted to him to do otherwise. Then he flipped back his side of the comforter, and I felt the cool air on my legs and toes. “But then again, I have less restraint after a long day, and I’m not used to being frustrated all through the night.” His voice was strained, low and raw.

“I understand.” I licked my lips, not sure exactly what he was frustrated with. Me talking to him, lying next to him? “You took a lot of phone calls. It’s got to be a long day dealing with all of what you do. Are you talking to clients all day most days?”

He rubbed at his jaw. “You think I’m frustrated with work?”

“Well, yeah. I get it. I hear you talking to people all day and it sounds tiring,” I blurted out.

His eyes narrowed on me as he sat on his side of the bed. “Are you listening to my calls?”

“No. Of course not.”

“If you’re going to lie, take a breath before answering.” He chuckled and laid down. “It will be more believable.”

I sighed. “Okay. Sorry. I just hear you talking and can’t help but—”

“Be nosy?”

“I like to classify it as being informed about my current surroundings.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

“Knowledge is power,” I argued back and even pulled my arms from the blankets that were restraining them so I was able to sit up higher and lean on my elbows to look him in the eye.

He chuckled. “Ignorance is bliss.”

He wasn’t going to outwit me. I crossed one ankle over the other, and my toe touched the side of his arm. “‘Nothing is more dangerous than sincere ignorance.’”

Just as I was about to shift my legs away from him, I felt one strong hand reach over and rub over my foot. “Really? Martin Luther King Jr?” He smiled big at me.

“I only quote the best.” I shrugged, not pulling my foot away quite yet.

It was right then that his thumb pushed into the arch of my foot though, and I couldn’t control how the shivers shot through my body or how good the sensation felt. A moan escaped as I practically melted back down into the pillow. “Oh, gosh. That feels too good. So nope.” I tried to pull my foot away. Of course, he didn’t let me. I glared down the bed at him. “I can’t handle you doing that to me tonight, Dimitri.”

The goose bumps I felt over my skin, the way I was already breathing more rapidly, the way I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist if he kept on.

“I can’t handle not doing it.” Suddenly, his eyes were a darker green and they simmered with a heat I wanted to experience. “I’m not frustrated with my workday, Honeybee.”

“What’s frustrating you then?”

“You walking around in your skimpy pajamas, you sleeping next to me, you being everywhere in this damn house but not with me at the same time. So choose … me giving you a massage as a friend or fucking you against that headboard as your boyfriend. Which do you want?” I bit my lip now to stop myself from answering, because we both knew I’d pick the wrong one. “Jesus, Olive. Don’t tempt me if you’re not sure. Take the massage.”

“Fine. But the massage is …” I gasped when he pushed the right spot again. “Tempting enough.”

“Let’s focus on something else then. Why the fuck are you on a dating app?”