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

“You know what really sucks?” I sniffled, not at all worried whether Dimitri wanted to listen to me rant or not.

He’d been around long enough. He had to call me a friend, even if it was begrudgingly. Sure, more so he was now my best friend’s brother-in-law, but before that, we’d all been sort of friends. Dimitri was there to support her, of course, and he mostly endured my presence more than anything as I navigated Kee’s business. “This was my fallback after Kee. I was supposed to finish my thesis and continue researching with Rufford. I mean, we never said it out loud, but that was the plan.”

“You’ll come up with a new plan,” he told me, completely uninterested. He was already glancing back toward the reception. The man was a well-known part-owner of a hospitality empire and a ruthless real estate investor. He didn’t have time for me.

I didn’t have time for this either. I might not have found my way to the right man, but over the past year, I’d thought I’d finally found my way in what I wanted to do. I’d enjoyed researching with Rufford. I thought it was the start of my career. I’d formed that path, dedicated myself to it, and now it was like he was snatching it away. “What if I don’t?” I whispered, a sudden ball of fear building in my gut. “I loved him, and he took advantage of that. I wasn’t even a smart enough journalist to see—”

Dimitri’s green stare hardened as he looked down at me. “Olive, he’s most likely been doing this to women since he became a professor a million years ago.”

“Well, thanks for making me feel better,” I said sarcastically as I glared at him.

He tapped his expensive loafer on the pavement of the alley like he didn’t have time for this. “What I’m saying is he’s a damn expert at being a dick. The playing field was uneven.”

“But—”

“A man that’s supposed to love you made you cry. That alone gives you enough reason to walk away from him. Even worse, he did it in the alley of your friend’s wedding reception.”

“She’s my best friend.” I nodded, starting to believe what he was saying.

“Well”—he tilted his head and his eyes sparkled—“technically, I think I’m her best friend.”

My jaw dropped before a giggle slipped out. “You’re kicking me when I’m down?”

“I’m being honest.”

“It doesn’t suit you.” I threw back as I crossed my arms.

He hummed like it was a challenge then suddenly stepped close to me. The night air shifted as the cool wind whipped between us. “Is that so, Ms. Monroe?”

It was definitely not so.

Our height difference, him being close to six six and me being only five four, along with the tension between us was suddenly amplified. And his arrogant ass knew that everything suited him while he stood there so close to me in the moonlight. Most women—including myself, even though I avoided the pull—were irresistibly drawn to him. His dark wavy hair framed a face that was somehow rugged and refined, every strand falling perfectly into place without effort. Even though he stood there in an expensive tailored suit, he didn’t have to try to own the space. He just did with his broad shoulders, his confidence, and a smile that held familiarity but also mystery.

My heart and libido lurched at the same time. For a second, I forgot my heartbreak and that I should be dwelling on that. Closing my eyes, I took a step back to break our connection. “It is. I’m just as much Kee’s friend as you are. And probably more so now since I’ll be working with her forever after Rufford gets through with me.”

“Yes, well, it is probably just best to let it go and do your thesis over,” Dimitri said as if it didn’t matter much either way to him. “Should we go back to the reception?”

Yet his words rattled me. “Let it go?” I murmured and then, I said it again, “Let it go?” And that’s when the ball of fear turned to fury, warped from pain and heartbreak to wrath. I’d let it go with my father, let the rage over him not being the man he should have with my mother go. And I’d regretted it ever since.

I took a deep breath and balled up my fists. “No. You know what? I’m not going to just let it go.”

I stomped past Dimitri back toward the reception doors and whipped them open without looking back to see if he was following. I didn’t have time to wallow. I needed a new plan, and I felt it deep in my bones. I could cry later, but tonight I was making sure I had a place in the master’s program that I’d put so much effort into. And I was going to put Rufford in his place at the same time.

I just needed to get some liquid courage to do the deed.

“I’m not letting it go with anyone ever again,” I grumbled as I made my way through people dancing and went immediately to the bar. I plopped down on one of the velvet upholstered barstools and leaned over the dark mahogany bar with intricate carvings. “Sir, I need a drink.”

I said it loudly enough that the bartender glanced over but then his eyes flicked behind me to Dimitri waving him away. “Hold on a second. Slow down, Olive. Jesus, what do you mean you’re not letting it go?”

I glanced at the bartender who had immediately listened to him, and I narrowed my eyes back at Dimitri. “Are you telling him I can’t have a drink?”

“I just waved him off for a second.” He looked at me with concern. “Let’s take a minute—”

“Just because you own this place doesn’t mean you get to regulate what I’m doing,” I spit out, irritated he was trying to control me.

He smirked. “I regulate everything I own, Olive. If you’re standing foot in my investment, I control what you do.”

I glanced around the resort. Everything about the HEAT property reeked of opulence and elegance. Suited men moved around the reception, flowing with the crowd, all very aware of the man I stood with. The bartender listened to him without hesitation, no matter that I was a wedding guest who wanted a drink. Dimitri controlled it all. And it made me want to wreck it.

Rufford had controlled me. He’d manipulated and molded me just the way he wanted me. I’d sent that man hundreds of pictures in the lingerie he’d bought, risked my education to be with him, and now he had the audacity to leave me like I hadn’t done a thing for him. “You all think you have control of everything, don’t you?” I ground out before I waved at the bartender again and leaned over the bar. He came this time, and I purred, “Give me a shot of Fireball, please.”

The man didn’t make eye contact with Dimitri and poured the shot fast before he slid it my way. I downed it as I stared at him.

Then, I pulled my phone from my purse and scrolled through my texts to make a point. I clicked the one I wanted to show Dimitri and turned my screen. “Can you believe I sent him this last night because he begged for it?”

It was a picture I’d taken of myself bent at the waist in my torn nylons, looking over my shoulder.

I wasn’t at all embarrassed to show Dimitri. He’d seen me and Kee get ready before, and I had to show someone how screwed up it was that Rufford had been able to control me so easily, that I’d been so naïve to believe he loved me. Yet, Dimitri’s eyes widened in shock.

“What the fuck, Olive?” He swiped my phone from my grasp, and I thought he’d turn it off right away, but he stared as if he couldn’t believe it. I saw how his knuckles turned whiter and whiter from his tight grip.

“Erm … Can I have my phone back?”

“Fuck,” he growled before shoving it back toward me. “I’d tell you to delete it—”

“But what for?” I shrugged. “Won’t do me any good considering I sent it to him. He has it.”

“Jesus Christ.” He was shaking his head in disgust. “Don’t you understand that you risked your whole degree by doing that?”

“It was fun at the time!” I defended myself. “I … well, I thought I was in love. Plus, he called to tell me this whole cute role-playing thing about how I was a bad student and if I sent him something to show how hard I was trying—”

“Is that request in messages?”

I blew a raspberry. “No.” I sounded so dumb now. “He called.”

And I’d felt like we were having so much fun too. Now, I stared at my text to him and wondered how many other students he’d gotten to do stupid shit by saying those things to.

“Of course his ass did.”

“He said he was teaching me a lesson, Dimitri. But maybe he needs to be taught one.”