Page 34 of One Twisted Lie

“Bikes? That’s what does it for you?”

“Or Iceland,” I laugh as it all unfolds in my head. “Can you picture it? We could be in the middle of nowhere on a farm with those weird-looking horses. I could do all my meetings through Zoom, and you could work on your video games, uninterrupted. Just the two of us.”

“Since when am I in this picture?”

I pause as my ears burn hot. I did saywe, didn’t I? A fluttery sense of panic fills me. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

“It could be a flat in London. That’s more realistic,” he says, tightening his legs around my waist, splaying his hands up and down my back. “I could work for CCP Games, and you could set up a branch there. We could get a cat.”

My chest swells and a tentative smile makes its way to my lips, something akin to hope and longing lining it. “I’m allergic to cats.”

“Fine,” he huffs as if I’m being difficult for difficulty’s sake. “We’ll get a bird.”

I can’t resist the urge to tease him. “Not a dog?”

“Why are you messing with my fantasy?” he laughs, lightly slapping the back of my head.

That sobers me up quickly. Carter continues to laugh when unbeknownst to him, I’m at a razor’s edge.

That flat in London filled with birds and gaming systems? That Icelandic farm isolated except for the two of us? That’s what it is.

A fantasy.

Chapter 17

Carter

“Go for Carter.”

“What the fuck? Who answers the phone, Go for Carter? What century are you from?”

“Princess?”

I scrunch up my nose. Ozymandias is calling me? It’s a few days into spring break and I haven’t heard from him at all. It feels odd that it’s actually bothered me. Well, obviously not enough to call him myself.

Even though my thumb has hovered over his contact information more often than I’d like to admit.

“Who else would be calling you this fucking late at night?”

There’s an edge to his voice that sends a pleasant fluttering through my stomach. I glance at my watch. It’s notthatlate. It’s only eight. I smirk. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you.”

He huffs on the other end of the line.“Not fucking jealous, you arrogant ass.”

I roll my eyes. My ass is arrogant? Please. My man spends all his free time staring at his—

Wait. What the fuck?Myman?

“Why are you calling?” I ask, swiveling in my desk chair, abandoning my work. “Miss me?”

“W-What?”he stutters, and I can just imagine that blush coating his cheeks.“No. I just—”

“I miss you too,” I blurt out before I can think better about it.

Fuck, how did we get here? But I do. I kind of, sort of, maybe miss him. I miss that cocky fucking smirk I can always manage to wipe away with my cock. I miss the way his ass feels, hot and tight, and all mine.

But I also miss the way he always rests his ear on my chest afterward, right over my heart. I miss the way he snores in his sleep, so uncharacteristic for such a regal guy.

And, maybe most of all, I miss the way he makes me feel—vulnerable in the best way, excited like I’ve never been before, and safe in a manner I’ve never imagined I could be.

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