Page 30 of The Southern Submission

My heart hammers against my ribs as I let out a sound that’s a cross between a sigh and a frustrated snarl as I slide into my car, wincing when I burn my hands on the hot steering wheel that’s been baking in the sun all day. I crank the engine of my old Toyota to life and turn the AC all the way up, knowing it won’t cool down for several minutes.

Double date? Can’t wait to get his hands on me?Holy shit, this is really happening, and I’m kind of into it.

I type out a text to Della, letting her know plans have changed.

Me: Hey, is it okay if we meet up with Payton and a friend of his for drinks tonight instead?

It takes a few minutes for my phone to vibrate back with her reply.

Della: HELL FUCKING YES! Have you seen who he associates with? The men of Olympus are hot as fuck. It’s about time you dating him worked in my favor. I’m so glad I finished early and went home to shower.

I shake my head in resignation and send her the address. If she’s on board, I guess I can't argue. And now I’m about to play his fake girlfriend in front of my friend and I have to make it convincing. I sigh and let Della know my arrival time so she won’t beat me there, and begin the drive.

It takes me half an hour in Atlanta traffic to make it to thebar and another five minutes in the car to talk myself into going inside. Archer texting me out of the blue after years of not hearing from him still has me rattled. Knowing my connection to Payton is what caused him to reach out makes me nervous to be seen with the billionaire because this PDA-filled evening will absolutely make it into the gossip pages again, as planned.

A thought strikes me, and it has me considering the situation from a different angle. Maybe this is exactly what Archer needs to see after all this time, me moving on with someone he hates more than anything. I’ll just keep blocking him if he continues contacting me. I don’t actually have to interact with him. That’s enough motivation to resolve to be as convincing as possible that I’m falling head-over-heels for Payton Olsen.

I slick on my vanilla-scented lip gloss, making sure the rest of my work-appropriate attire and makeup are still in place. I walk toward the bar, knowing I’ll be bombarded with Payton’s annoying cheerfulness as soon as I find him, and I’ll like it more than I care to admit.

Seventeen

Ainsley

The bar, Dionysus, is close to Olympus International Tower, so I’m not surprised Payton would come here. It’s blessedly cool when I walk in. The walls are exposed brick, brass fixtures gleaming against black accents, with sconces casting warm light all around as I take in the room while looking for Payton.

Ifeelhis presence and turn, finding him leaning against a booth across from me. His large, powerful body perfectly relaxed, hands in the pockets of his immaculately tailored navy suit pants highlighting his thick thighs, muscled forearms showing below the rolled-up sleeves of his crisp white shirt, setting off his tan skin in stark contrast. My gaze travels up his body, making it to his strong jaw, faint dimples popping in hischeeks from his indulgent smile as he drinks me in and knows he affects me in turn. Finally, I meet his stupid ocean-deep eyes that drown me and I can’t look away. I need to be a better swimmer to spend time around Payton Olsen.

His head tips, beckoning me to the booth behind him where a man with cool blond hair and ice-blue eyes lounges, and my feet are moving before I realize I’ve decided for myself.Traitors. I hesitate for a moment when I reach him, not sure what version I’ll be getting tonight after several days of not hearing from him. Will he be the constantly joking, can’t-stop-smiling fool I met in a silly café, or will he be the Dom I’ve only heard about? I look up despite wearing heels that usually help give me a bit of height to my short stature.

“Go with it,” he whispers in my ear as he bends down to pull me in close and molds our bodies together into a tight hug.

It feels lush and indecent, despite being a fully clothed embrace in public. One of his hands slides down my back, resting just above my ass. The other comes up to my neck and presses me close longer than friendly, ensuring we establish this is more than casual. My arms naturally reach up to his shoulders, fingers threading into the soft hair at the nape of his neck like they’re meant to be there, eliciting a quiet groan from him that sends a tremor through me in return. I sigh and relax in his arms, feeling restored just from this small bit of touch that I must have been craving.

I look up at his face in silent question while it’s so close to mine. Is he going to kiss me, right here like this? My lips part, and I breathe raggedly against the hold he has on me, my eyes dipping between his eyes and mouth. I don’t have to pretend very hard to enjoy this.

“I missed you, Muffin,” he says with a gentle brush of his lips against mine in answer before running his nose along mycheek to my ear.

“I’m sure you did.” My words come out quick and uncertain, still wanting to put up walls despite how good it feels to fit this well in his arms.

I shiver involuntarily in his hold, my body responding to him dropping kisses along my jaw and pressing closer. He tightens his grip when he feels my reaction and I get a sick thrill that we somehow keep doing this to each other. My eyes widen as he pulls out the pen that’s securing the bun at the back of my head, causing my hair to untwist and fall down my back in a heavy cascade.

“That’s some fucking hot-for-teacher shit, Ainsley. Don’t wear your hair like that around me again unless you want me fantasizing about roleplaying a classroom scene with you, or better yet, setting up that scene for you,” he says, voice gravelly and low against my ear. “Especially not in an outfit like that. Fucking hell, woman. Are you trying to kill me?”

He runs a hand over my ass in my tight pencil skirt and looks down as he finally lets me go, but not before I feel the effect I’ve had on him pressed tightly against me. I’m not the only one reacting to this embrace and hereallylikes my outfit.

This is a perfectly professional blouse that doesn't show any cleavage and a pencil skirt that hits just above my knees. It’s business casual and fine for the office. I look back at him as he struggles to compose himself, smiling in triumph to see him lose a bit of the control he always seems to have over every situation.

I reach up and pat his cheek with satisfaction. “You’re cracked. There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing or using a pen to hold up my hair when it’s hot as balls out and I don’t have a hair tie.”

He catches my wrist and lowers it to my side, raising darkbrows at my sassy attitude. “Don’t mistake me, Princess. There’s nothing wrong with it. I just like it a little too much to stay in a public place if that’s how you’re going to respond when I mention it. Now sit down before I march you out of here and show you what I really think.”

I smirk as I brush past him and slide into the booth, his hand smoothing over my ass before he follows closely behind me. I eye the other man in the booth warily before turning back to Payton for the introduction.

“Ainsley, this is Luca DaSilva, the SVP of operations at Olympus International. Luca, this is Ainsley Montgomery, my gorgeous girlfriend,” Payton supplies the introductions for us.

He officially claimed me. My heart races at the thought of people knowing for real now about our fake relationship.

“Nice to meet you,” I offer.

---