Page 4 of Bryce

“Bryce, this isnot a good time.” Her expression turned pleading. She felt thefamiliar tug of lust and embraced it. If one did not feel anythingwhen in the presence of a man like Bryce, one would have to be blindor dead, or both.

He had bulked up forthe lead he played in his latest action flick, ‘Crossfire’.His shoulders had always been broad and his physique, a well-tonedsix-foot one; had that hungry lean look that reminded one of a wolfon the prowl.

But with the addedmuscles, the bunching of them and with his hair – wild and darklike silk raining around his face in a sexy dishevelment, it put theblood to stirring and she might be old enough to be his mother, butshe was human and a woman. Not that he would look twice at her thatway, she thought with regret. She wasn’t his type.

And as much as shecould feel the saliva pooling inside her mouth, she was aprofessional and aside from the awareness as a woman, she felt thematernal as well. Not that he would appreciate the thought of it.

Bryce’s ownmother, a cold woman at that had never encouraged any sort ofmaternal feelings. That much she knew. And his father… Well,that man was as cold as ice.

“if you couldwait a few weeks - perhaps until the end of September, sometime inOctober, I will personally see to it that you disappear without atrace.” She warmed up to the idea. “There’s alittle village in Italy…”

“No!” Hedragged restless fingers through his tangle of hair. Ever since thedrunken night he had found himself in the bed of the actress, he hadbeen doing some thinking. He had a meeting with his old man latertoday and the thought of it was making his insides curdle withdistaste. He knew what the meeting would be about.

He was a bloodysuccess in his field, but it still wasn’t enough for hisparents. His mother viewed his career as a frivolous way to make aliving and his dad thought he could do better.

“Your actingskills are adequate at best, but you lack the killer instinct to makea lifelong commitment of it.”

Bryce had notbothered to remind the man that his acting skills were so damnedgood, he was now a billionaire in his own rights and had no need foranything they had to offer. Not that they had or would offeranything. His parents believed in their only child working and makinghis own path.

He was sick of thelack of love and appreciation. Sick of his life. Everything feltempty and inconsequential. He wanted more. He was tired of themeaningless affairs that lasted until the orgasms were over. Hewanted someone he could sit and talk to, someone who was not dazzledby his fame and fortune.

If Hollywood hadtaught him one thing, it was that there wasn’t a real body torelate to. He hated the sham and the pretenses. No one spoke what wason their minds and the bed hopping was becoming very distasteful tohim.

If he didn’tleave now, he was going to be go crazy. “Make thearrangements.” He ended abruptly as he strode from the room.

Chapter 2

The very last thinghe wanted was to have dinner with his parents. He had been avoidingit for the past two weeks. But he could not put it off any longer.Besides, he was planning on going off the grid and he had to tellthem something. Not the where of it and not even the why, but he hadto give them something.

He was veryuncomfortable around them, and it felt weird, since they were the twopeople who had known him all his life and had given him life. Butgrowing up in that household had made him hard and cynical. He hadbeen brought up by a series of nannies, because in Hollywood it wasthe thing to do.

Hire someone else toraise your child, while you spend your time heaping up the praise andaccolades. His parents’ careers had taken precedence overraising him and it had taken him many painful years to realize thatwas who they were.

Blaine Whitlock wasfamous for his work; he had made his mark. There was a star to proveit, and the many awards displayed on shelves made especially for thegolden statues. His mother was famous in her own field. They wereoverachievers, which had pushed him into trying to be one as well.

But it was exhaustingand as his therapist had pointed out during one of their sessions,trying to get their approval and their love was taking its toll.Nothing he did had ever made them proud. He had excelled in school,got mostly A’s. He had been a sports enthusiast, joined almostevery game possible and still it had never been enough.

It took him a whileto figure out that they just did not care. So, he had stopped tryingand started to live his life for him, not giving a damn what theywanted from him.

Now he was havingdinner with them, and he could feel the sweat pooling at his armpits,something that pissed him off enough to light a fire in his goldeneyes.

The maid took hisjacket with a silent nod of her head. A new one, he noted withoutsurprise. His mother ran a very tight ship and the staff member whodid not meet with her approval would be gone in a minute.

She was the ultimateentertainer, had to be since she was married to a very popular man.Bryce was surprised that their marriage had lasted this long. He knewhis father had affairs, with actresses, lawyers, singers –Blaine Whitlock was not discriminatory.

And women gravitatedto him. It wasn’t his looks, which was not the pull, but thepower that emanated from him drew them like magnets.

“Ms. Maxinesaid to come straight to the dining room.”

“Thank you.”

Taking a deep breath,he headed down the wide hall, with its silky walls and expensiveartworks. He had been brought up here, in this coldly sterile luxurythat had hardly changed over the years. He had been sent away ofcourse, for school and he considered that a blessing.

They were alreadyseated at the twenty chairs dining table, sipping on pre-dinnerdrinks. Maxine Whitlock was a stunningly beautiful woman and hadpassed the looks to her only child. Her raven black hair was brushedruthlessly back from a creamy unlined face and secured at the back ofher head in an elegant chignon.

Long golden eyeswatched as he entered the room, face expressionless. A string ofpearls nestled at her throat and the raw silk of her blouse made herskin looked luminous. Her makeup was flawless.

“You’relate...!” Her voice was smooth and cultured and could stop aperson in their tracks.

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