Between Desire and Denial: A Fake Dating Romance (Hardy Billionaires)
Between Desire and Denial: Chapter 3

“What are you doing?” I stood close to Olive, trying to see what she was doing on her phone, as she sat at the bar. The tiny girl went from crying to looking angry to defeated to now on an evil mission all of a sudden, and that was saying a lot.

Olive never looked evil. She never looked anything but sweet and a little cute, if I was being honest. She dressed in baggy sweaters, wore glasses most of the time, and had holes in her fishnets or leggings most days. I think it was a fashion statement but wasn’t totally sure. I remember staring at them for about an hour the first day she’d worn them. I couldn’t take my eyes off her skin there, so smooth and exposed. I chalked it up to me being concerned about her appearance, but now I wondered if it was something else.

“I’m being a journalist,” she proclaimed before she waved the bartender over again. When the man fucking listened, I was astounded. Didn’t he know I was part owner of this resort? She smiled at him sweetly, “I need just one more shot of liquid courage.”

“She doesn’t need any more liquid courage,” I told the man with a mohawk and lip piercing. He was definitely trying to showcase his fucking “bad boy” shit to Olive. He licked his lip and made a show of his tongue piercing too.

That slow smile I knew she normally only got when she was on the phone with Rufford had come out to play, and I knew she’d noticed exactly what he wanted her to. But she patted my hand and said, “Ignore him. He’s the bride’s friend. He’s trying to keep all us bridesmaids in line tonight.”

“Ah. I’m very aware of who Mr. Hardy is. It’s an honor to be working for you and your brothers.” The bartender chuckled a little nervously. “I was told by the groom, though, to give the bridesmaids what they want for the rest of the night. He and his bride just left.”

Olive clapped then. “Oh, good. Then I’m in the clear. Hand over that shot.” She winked at him, and he winked back before he slid another shot across the bar.

Olive was quick to swipe it up and knock it back.

“Don’t you want to card her?” I lifted a brow at him. Olive appeared to be underage. I knew she wasn’t, but I wanted a reason to give the man a hard time.

“Already did earlier. Couldn’t believe she’s twenty-five. That face of yours could deceive the masses, sugar.”

That’s what I thought too … until I’d seen the picture on her phone. And when I looked over, I was surprised to see her zooming in and cropping it.

“What the fuck are you doing?” My eyes followed each thumb swipe, and my mouth watered at seeing her ass again.

“I’m writing an article, and I need this picture to show enough of me to get my point across without disclosing my identity.”

Against my better judgment, I finally sat down next to her. I’d brought a beautiful woman and her sister to this wedding, and I knew they were down to fuck tonight. Still, I found myself texting them that I wouldn’t be meeting back up with them and they could enjoy the rest of the reception on their own.

Olive was taking up my time. I couldn’t leave her to her own devices. “Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

“Without great risk, there’s no reward,” she threw back.

“Normally, I live by a phrase just like that, but—”

“What’s the phrase?” she asked as her thumbs moved lightning fast, typing away on that phone like she was reporting an emergency.

“It’s ‘take a chance and enjoy the damn dance’, but—”

“Oh, that’s perfect.” She nodded without looking up.

“But,” I emphasized my hesitation now, “what could possibly need to be written so quickly tonight?”

“Give me a second.” She glanced up and narrowed her eyes at me. “By the way, don’t you have something better to be doing than hovering over me?”

“As a matter of fact, I did invite a few guests to the reception.” I smirked at her golden eyes rolling. She saw the women I was with earlier. “They’re willing to wait while I finish making sure my friend doesn’t do something she regrets tonight.”

She blew a raspberry and I could feel her emotions skittering around in her head, like she couldn’t trust her relationships at all anymore. Rufford had already changed her perception and it was a fucking shame. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about me, Dimitri. We’re not that close.”

That was a bold statement for her to make. She normally was cordial with me, even if we mostly made small talk. Her cheeks reddened, and it was clear she thought so too as I stared at her, waiting to see if she’d apologize.

“It’s just … we hang out because of Kee.”

“Kee is a mutual friend of ours,” I confirmed. Keelani Hale, now Hardy and now my sister-in-law, was the glue to our group. Olive was her PA, and I was her childhood best friend. It’d been that way for years. “We’ve hung out enough for me to care about you, Olive. Don’t say otherwise.”

She shrugged her bare shoulders and looked away. “Okay.”

“Would you disagree?” Now I was curious. Did she think she didn’t matter at all to me? Had it come off that way?

“I think you see me as a nuisance. Young. Naive. I think you indulge Kee’s wishes of me being around, but you wouldn’t entertain my presence otherwise. You see no value in me, and …” She took a deep breath. “You try to replace value in everything and every person you surround yourself with. So, I’m irrelevant to you.”

“Interesting.” It was the only response I could make. I wasn’t a liar, and she’d pretty much hit the nail on the head with our relationship up to that point. Except now, tonight, with her in front of me, it felt like something more. “That’s what you believe I think of you. What do you think of me?”

“I think you’re egotistical. You get to be because you’re smart—you didn’t get lucky with your investment choices. You’re a workaholic. You don’t commit to anything except that … and your friends and family. You’re a great friend to Kee. An amazing brother to Dex. But I’m not your friend or a part of your family, so I’m confused as to why you’re still sitting here.”

“Call it curiosity.”

And her laugh rang out through the bar. Her eyes twinkled and her hair almost bounced as she shook with giggles at my statement. “I’m curious. You’re not. You couldn’t care less about the people who don’t add value to your life. Time is money to you, and you love money, Dimitri. So, again, I’m confused,” she threw out. It made me respect her even more.

“Honestly, let’s blame it on Kee.” It was the only rational answer I had right then. “She’ll be worried tomorrow if you do something tonight, and she’ll call me because of it.”

“You act like I can’t make an informed decision.” Her bottom lip pouted out, and I found myself wondering how soft it would be against my mouth. My thoughts were still on that photo obviously. It was the only excuse I had.

“I’m not sure you can right now.” I pointed to her phone again.

That’s when her big, doe eyes narrowed, and she bit her lip. “Okay, since you’re the mature one, tell me how it sounds.”

She handed me her phone to read the email.

Professor Rufford Butson has been a tenured faculty member at Alcove University for ten years. His research on social media and its impact on teen girls has provided companies with substantial data.

He first liked my social media page four years ago and sent me a private message about how I would be a great addition to the journalism department. I was young, moldable, and gullible. My social media platform showed my life story. I documented my ups and downs in a way that someone could easily assess my weaknesses and strengths. It’s apparent now that Rufford Butson took advantage of that.

Our last string of correspondence includes the attached messages and photos.

Yes, I’m a woman scorned. But I’m also a woman seeking justice. I spent most of my time in graduate school in the journalism program working on research with him. Again, please see attached documents. I would like my name to remain on the works I helped to research and publish. I also would like the record to show I requested this and would like to finish my thesis under the supervision of another professor and without Professor Butson being a part of its presentation, submission, review, or defense.

Signed,

Olive Monroe

“You’re putting your name?” I asked in surprise as I scrolled up to see the picture she attached. “You cropped your face from the picture to—’

“Yeah, I could hide my identity but, let’s be honest, they would figure it out anyway. I just want my degree now. I can’t go through a whole new program.”

“The university is going to tear you apart,” I told her because someone had to.

She sighed and then pulled at the little fake flower behind her ear that she always wore like she was thinking about it. “So be it. Better enjoy the rest of my night before the staff and chancellor read their email tomorrow.”

“Alcove University, huh?” I knew the name, knew who funded it, knew I would have ties outside of hers. Yet, I didn’t say a thing. This was her battle. For now. “I underestimated you I think.”

She chewed the side of her cheek before her chin wobbled. “Most people do. Including my ex, I guess.”

“What’s your plan for the rest of the night?” I asked her.

“Gearing up to take that bartender back to my hotel room.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me and without her glasses obstructing the view of her eyes, I saw how they sparkled with mischief. “Can you believe Rufford didn’t even sleep with me when he got to town yesterday?” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Okay I’ve come to the point of the night where I’m sharing too much with you.”

I hummed. “Or maybe I’m more of a friend than you first thought.”

She chuckled. “In that case, friend, I was really looking forward to screwing my boyfriend, but since he’s now my ex, I’ll be taking home the bartender if he’ll have me.”

“You’re not taking some random guy home.” My voice was low as I said it, and I couldn’t help how my muscles tightened in anger at the thought.

“It’ll be fun.” She shrugged and smiled a lazy smile at me. “I’ve never had a one-night stand before.”

Fuck me, she was cute tipsy. I stood up and looked down at her. “And you’re not going to have one with him tonight.”

Her stare was determined, and I saw the fire light in her eyes. “I’m living my life and getting over Rufford tonight, Dimitri. I’m fucking someone who will make me forget.”

“Not him.”

“Oh.” She licked her full lips slowly. “You offering instead?”

“No.” I shook my head, taking a step back immediately, because my dick jumped with her idea even though it was a bad one. “You’ve had way too much to drink.”

“Three shots. And a glass of champagne from earlier tonight is hardly too much.”

“Don’t make me take you to your hotel room and watch you all night. I have two women and work I could be doing instead.”

“Go on then.” She waved me away and leaned on the bar. Her damn cleavage was on display, and Mr. Mohawk’s eyes were laser focused there.

“That’s it. We’re going.” I put my arm around her shoulders, but she didn’t budge.

“I’m not, Dimitri.” She looked up at me, and her face was so close now, those lips pouting out lushly like she wanted me to taste them. “I can’t leave without someone.”

She said the words softly and painfully.

“Olive—”

“I really, truly can’t. If I’m alone tonight, I’ll just think of him. I’ll want only him, and I don’t want to want him ever again. I know that sounds crazy but … I just can’t.” I saw her vulnerability then, not the determination or the strength. Or maybe that was where her strength came from. She admitted her truth even if it hurt her to do so.

I hated being around women who cried or anyone who was too emotional, honestly, but even the tears in her eyes didn’t make me want to back away. Instead, I was mesmerized by them, by the depth in them that I hadn’t seen before.

“I’ll stay with you, Olive,” I said against her ear. “Come on. You don’t know that guy,” I coaxed her.

“You’ll stay with me?” Her eyebrows knitted together. “In my bed?”

Goddamn, she was serious. “You don’t want me in your bed, pretty girl. I don’t do relationships or sweet nothings or any of that.”

“I’m not asking for that. I’m just asking for someone to help me forget the best sex of my life. Rufford was it for me.” She said it so seriously and held nothing back at all. Had she always been this honest with me and Kee? “He was all I needed. I hate saying that knowing he used me, but it’s true. I can admit that.”

“All you needed? There are billions of other men in this world and that’s all you needed? You’re selling yourself short. And there’s no way he was the best you’ve ever had.” Why was I arguing this? I shouldn’t care if her best was that asshole.

“Why? Because he’s older than you?” She chuckled. “Maybe my bartender will top him.”

“He won’t because you’re not leaving with him.” My jaw clenched. “You’re leaving with me.”

“I’m not leaving unless you’re giving me what I’m asking for.” She tilted her head and lifted one of her dark little brows at me. “Are you?” She wanted clarification, which was smart considering I didn’t intend to offer her any of what she was asking for.

“I’m aware,” I said through clenched teeth just thinking about running my hands up her dress over that delicious ass I’d seen in the picture. It wasn’t going to happen, but I was still thinking about it as I threw money on the bar and grabbed her purse. “Let’s go to my hotel room.”

“What?” She glanced around suddenly, like she was nervous. “Well, are you sure? What about your dates?”

“Having second thoughts?” I smirked at her. She might have had a bit of liquid courage in dealing with her university email, but not when it came to me, live and in person. So, I leaned in to cement her hesitations. “Don’t worry about my dates, Olive. If they want, I’ll have them join in on delivering the best sex of your life for real.”

It was a blatant fucking lie. I’d never do that with Kee’s friends. I kept my family and business completely separate from my vices and pleasures. Olive was practically both by proxy.

We were here for Kee not to fool around with each other. But then she lifted her chin and stood, straightening that A-line bridesmaid dress before she hooked her arm in mine.

“Sounds like a great time, Casanova,” she said condescendingly before pulling me toward the elevators. “Show me the way. I’m ready.”

Once I got Olive out of the reception, I’d explain to her that she was going to sleep. Alone.

As soon as the elevator door shut, Olive looked up at me, licked her lips, and wrapped her arms around me. When her mouth met mine, she tasted like liquor and sweet apples. Her tongue slid between my lips because I let it, her hands roved over my chest because I let them, and her hips pressed against me as she moaned because I didn’t push her away.

My body was experiencing something foreign, something completely shocking, and something astronomically wrong. I wasn’t attracted to Olive. How could I have been? I barely noticed her half the time, but in that elevator, I reacted. My cock instantly hardened against her, so quickly that I held her hips for actual support. I couldn’t stop tasting her sweet lips even if I tried. And I fucking didn’t. I indulged instead. This desire was fierce and wrong. She was young and barely on my radar. Yet, I wanted to explore why the hell I was suddenly craving her.

Finally, she pulled back and opened her eyes. They sparkled with mirth. “Yeah”—she patted my chest—“I think you might do, Dimitri.”

“I might do?”

“Sure, the kiss was okay enough.” She shrugged and leaned against the railing of the elevator. “So, you’ll do just fine at making me forget my ex for a night.”

“If I sleep with you—and that’s a big if, Olive—you’ll forget him forever,” I told her.

She shook her head and stared at me for a second before a smile so big whipped across her face. “Oh, gosh, I thought that was a joke. You’re serious?”

“Of course I’m serious.” I frowned at her.

“I don’t think so. The kiss wasn’t that great. Rufford could do better than that.”

Now she was goading me. That was fine. I stepped close to her and put a hand on either side of her hips to grip the railing and cage her in. “I have five more floors to prove to you that what we did right there wasn’t kissing,” I growled, like I cared. I hated her mentioning me in comparison to her damn sorry excuse of a boyfriend. “It was just a sample. A taste. When I kiss you, you won’t compare me to anyone else.”