Lochlan

Besides a few of the more iconic locations, diners in New York City were interchangeable—long counters with barstools filled with grunting regulars, coffee that only grew stale during the wee hours of night, and grease so thick in the air consuming the food to taste it was optional. The Reeds had a standing Saturday morning appointment at the diner near their penthouse, and since my father was rarely home, I went with them more often than not. Until this moment, entering one filled me with happy nostalgia.

But until this moment, I'd done nothing that caused such self loathing, and the woman at the center of my bad behavior sat in a back booth, her heels kicked off under the table while she massaged the bottoms of her feet gently, likely to avoid the wounds acquired this morning.

How had it only been this morning that I'd set her on my kitchen counter and tended to her feet? It felt like a lifetime ago. It blew my mind even further that barely twenty-four had passed since Millie and I bumped into each other in the coffee shop. Somehow, she had battered down walls I'd spent my entire life building.

Not just walls to protect myself, but walls of control. Walls to cage in the animal I was afraid lurked inside. I'd felt it stirring in the parking garage, and it awoke fully when I saw her pushed on the sidewalk. Every atom in me had vibrated with fear and rage that someone dared attempt to harm her because there was no mistaking the push was intentional. I pushed aside all those thoughts when I saw she wore nothing underneath her dress, and in that moment, I went feral. None of that was an excuse for how I treated her.

Millie's lips pursed when she spied me approaching. She put her fingertips on the edge of the white saucer holding her coffee cup, and spun it in slow circles while she avoided looking at me. Cracked vinyl creaked as I sat down, and I remained silent until she finally looked up. Hurt and wariness made her brown eyes dull, and I groaned internally.

"I would like to..." I drew in a deep breath and spoke quickly on the exhale, "Apologize."

"Mmhmm," she said, curling her shoulders around her ears. "What exactly are you apologizing for?"

Irritation sparked in my chest, but it was laced with amusement. Good for her. She would not let me get away with this easily, though this would be better if she were a man. It was easier to get punched in the face than it was to speak these words.

"First and foremost..." Shame rippled through me. "I would never force myself on you. If for one second I had thought you didn't want my touch, I would have never. And that's not an excuse. A real man would not have grabbed you in anger. He would have asked—"

She cut me off with a raised hand. "Stop. I said that to hurt you, and because I was mad at myself. You... you didn't misread the situation. I let you touch me because I wanted it. The moment I didn't, I shoved you away, and you stopped."

"But—" It was difficult not to focus on her admission of mutual want. That was not the point, but damn if it didn't make me wish I'd kept my fucking mouth shut while I had my fingers inside her. Perhaps, I would have gotten a taste...

"What really pissed me off is your insinuation that I get off on being a tease, and then after a minute, I got even more pissed because so what if I do? I don't, but if I did, that's none of your damn business. If a man can get off on being dominant and controlling, why can't a woman get off on getting a man so twisted with lust that he almost loses his shit because he can't touch her? It's its own type of control and dominance, is it not?"

She spoke in a barely intelligible rush. Her hands fluttered in front of her face while her cheeks turned pink, and strands of hair stuck to the corner of her lip. Without intending to interrupt her, I leaned forward and brushed it away and found it impossible to pull my hand back without running my thumb along her bottom lip.

Her tongue darted out to swipe along her lip, and the warm, moist tip brushed against my thumb. I realized in that moment this was the hand I'd had between her legs earlier, and I wondered if she could taste herself there.

"Can I get you anything?"

The waitress' nasally voice broke the spell, and I jerked my hand away. Clearing my throat, I flipped over my coffee mug. "Black coffee, pancakes, and a couple of eggs over medium." The waitress jotted it down and walked off without speaking to Millie. "Are you going to eat?"

"I ordered before you got here." Her normally crystalline voice had a harsh rasp to it.

"You are absolutely right, by the way. I shouldn't have judged you for what happened with Matt. Even if you'd been into it and not acting, that's your prerogative..."

"Why do I sense a but in there?"

I crumpled a cheap napkin and then smoothed it out on the speckled formica surface of the table. "Because I'm not a fan of sharing, and Matt wasn't the only man in that room you had twisted in lust."

I stopped just short of telling her as long as she was in my home, she belonged to me. People called me many things, but a liar was not one of them. And I would begin by lying to myself. It didn't matter who she was or what her game was, I'd wanted her from the moment I saw her, and now that I knew the feeling was mutual, I would have her. If she ended up being the con woman I suspected she was, I would deal with that later.

"So," I prompted after letting her process my words to ensure the meaning was not lost, "Care to explain what happened back there? Did you just pull Grace Forest out of a hat?"

Thick lashes fluttered as she pulled herself out of her thoughts. On any other woman, I might think she was trying to look coy and flirtatious, but I'd seen her in action in Matt's office. Millie's seduction skills were far more refined.

"I did a little research on my phone during the drive over. Figured out exactly what kind of business Pritchard Medical Center was involved in. A dozen famous men and women popped up when I searched their name, but the model, Heidi Forest, was the only one who had a very private younger sister. Grace doesn't have any kind of social media, and I couldn't find a picture more recent than 2017."

"Kind of a risk picking a family that big. Not to mention, what if he had contacted the family directly? He would've found out you weren't really Grace, and then I would have really looked like a desperate dumbass."

Millie grinned and shrugged sheepishly. "Gotta take risks sometimes. If it failed regardless, you were going to look like a desperate dumbass, but I went off with what you told me about Mr. Pritchard. I figured we were fairly safe either way. He's too prideful to call the Forests directly because he believed Grace was the only one aware of his plans to change, but if I was wrong and he called them, he would tattle on himself. From what I could tell of the articles I read, Heidi would have sued the company for everything if her medical records got out, proving she had work done. Her face is her job."

Impressed even as my suspicions about her solidified, I said, "That was another risk. What if she really hadn't had work done?"

She snorted. Putting a finger against her nose, she pushed it so it bent at an awkward angle. "I saw the before pictures. No way that woman didn't have work done."

"And your ability to drop into character like that?"

Some of her humor faded, and she looked at her coffee as she spoke. "I was a theater kid."

Two plates of food clattered on the table, and our waitress walked off without checking if we needed anything else. Millie picked up a fork and dug in, eyes rolling back in her head as she licked syrup from the tines of her fork. The crotch of my pants grew tight.

"So about tomorrow," she said after demolishing her pancakes.

My food was barely touched. My appetite had shifted to something else watching her eat, and when I replied, it was a bit more harshly than I intended, "What about tomorrow?"

Her brows dipped into a sharp V, and a bit of her earlier acerbic tone returned. "You promised I could have free time."

The image of hands shoving her toward the concrete blossomed in my mind, and I shook my head before opening my mouth. "I don't think—"

"Lochlan, you promised."

"It's not sa—"

She grabbed her phone off the table as it rang. A familiar number scrolled across the screen. "Hello. Oh, of course. Tomorrow is perfect."

My knuckles turned white around my mug. She ended the call and went back to her food. Finally, I snapped, "Who was that?"

"That was Anna. We're going shopping tomorrow. So you don't really have a say in my day."

I let her finish her food without another word. Let her think she won because there was no fucking way I was letting her spend the day alone with Mrs. R without some kind of protection. For the both of them.Besides a few of the more iconic locations, diners in New York City were interchangeable—long counters with barstools filled with grunting regulars, coffee that only grew stale during the wee hours of night, and grease so thick in the air consuming the food to taste it was optional. The Reeds had a standing Saturday morning appointment at the diner near their penthouse, and since my father was rarely home, I went with them more often than not. Up until this moment, entering one filled me with happy nostalgia.

But up until this moment, I'd never done anything that caused such self loathing, and the woman at the center of my bad behavior sat in a back booth, her heels kicked off under the table while she massaged the bottoms of her feet gently, likely to avoid the wounds acquired this morning.

How had it only been this morning that I'd set her on my kitchen counter and tended to her feet? It felt like a lifetime ago. It blew my mind even further that barely twenty-fours had passed since Millie and I bumped into each other in the coffee shop. Somehow, she had battered down walls that I'd spent my entire life building.

Not just walls to protect myself, but walls of control. Walls to cage in the animal I was afraid lurked inside. I'd felt it stirring in the parking garage, and it awoke fully when I saw her pushed on the sidewalk. Every atom in me had vibrated with fear and rage that someone dared attempt to harm her because there was no mistaking the push was intentional. All those thoughts were pushed aside when I saw she wore nothing underneath her dress, and in that moment I went feral. None of that was an excuse for how I treated her.

Millie's lips pursed when she spied me approaching. She put her fingertips on the edge of the white saucer holding her coffee cup and spun it in slow circles while she avoiding looking at me. Cracked vinyl creaked as I sat down, and I remained silent until she finally looked up. Hurt and wariness made her brown eyes dull, and I groaned internally.

"I would like to..." I drew in a deep breath and spoke quickly on the exhale, "Apologize."

"Mmhmm," she said, curling her shoulders around her ears. "What exactly are you apologizing for?"

Irritation sparked in my chest, but it was laced with amusement. Good for her. She wasn't going to let me get away with this easily, though this would be better if she was a man. It was easier to get punched in the face than it was to speak these words.

"First and foremost..." Shame rippled through me. "I would never force myself on you. If for one second I had thought you didn't want my touch, I would have never. And that's not excuse. A real man would not have grabbed you in anger. He would have asked—"

She cut me off with a raised hand. "Stop. I said that to hurt you, and because I was mad at myself. You...you didn't misread the situation. I let you touch me because I wanted it. The moment I didn't, I shoved you away, and you stopped."

"But—" It was difficult not to focus on her admission of mutual want. That was not the point, but damn if it didn't make me wish I'd kept my fucking mouth shut while I had my fingers inside her. Perhaps, I would have gotten a taste...

"What really pissed me off is your insinuation that I get off on being a tease, and then after a minute, I got even more pissed because so what if I do? I don't, but if I did, that's none of your damn business. If a man can get off on being dominant and controlling, why can't a woman get off on getting a man so twisted with lust that he almost loses his shit because he can't touch her. It's its own type of control and dominance, is it not?"

She spoke in a barely inteligible rush. Her hands fluttered in front of her face while her cheeks turned pink, and strands of hair stuck to the corner of her lip. Without intending to interrupt her, I leaned forward and brushed it away and found it impossible to pull my hand back without running my thumb along her bottom lip.

Her tongue darted out to swipe along her lip, and the warm, moist tip brushed against my thumb. I realized in that moment this was the hand I'd had between her legs earlier, and I wondered if she could taste herself there.

"Can I get you anything?"

The waitress' nasally voice broke the spell, and I jerked my hand away. Clearing my throat, I flipped over my coffee mug. "Black coffee, pancakes, and a couple of eggs over medium." The waitress jotted it down and walked off without speaking to Millie. "Are you going to eat?"

"I ordered before you got here." Her normally crystalline voice had a harsh rasp to it.

"You are absolutely right, by the way. I shouldn't have judged you for what happened with Matt. Even if you'd been into it and not acting, that's your prerogative..."

"Why do I sense a but in there?"

I crumpled a cheap napkin and then smoothed it out on the speckled formica surface of the table. "Because I'm not a fan of sharing, and Matt wasn't the only man in that room you had twisted in lust."

I stopped just short of telling her as long as she was in my home, she belonged to me. People called me many things, but a liar was not one of them. And I would begin by lying to myself. It didn't matter who she was or what her game was, I'd wanted her from the moment I saw her, and now that I knew the feeling was mutual, I would have her. If she ended up being the con woman I suspected she was, I would deal with that later.

"So," I prompted after letting her process my words to ensure the meaning was not lost, "Care to explain what happened back there? Did you just pull Grace Forest out of a hat?"

Thick lashes fluttered as she pulled herself out of her thoughts. On any other woman, I might think she was trying to look coy and flirtatious, but I'd seen her in action in Matt's office. Millie's seduction skills were far more refined.

"I did a little research on my phone during the drive over. Figured out exactly what kind of business Pritchard Medical Center was involved in. A dozen famous men and women popped up when I searched their name, but the model, Heidi Forest, was the only one who had a very private younger sister. Grace doesn't have any kind of social media, and I couldn't find a picture more recent than 2017."

"Kind of a risk picking a family that big. Not to mention, what if he had decided to contact the family directly. He would've found out you weren't really Grace, and then I would have really looked like a desperate dumbass."

Millie grinned and shrugged sheepishly. "Gotta take risks sometimes. If it failed regardless, you were going to look like a desperate dumbass, but I went off what you told me about Mr. Pritchard. I figured we were fairly safe either way. He's too prideful to call the Forests directly because he believed Grace is the only one aware of his plans to change, but if I was wrong and he did call them, he would tattling on himself. From what I could tell of the articles I read, Heidi would have sued the company for everything if her medical records got out proving she had work done. Her face is her job."

Impressed even as my suspicions about her solidified, I said, "That was another risk. What if she really hadn't had work done?"

She snorted. Putting a finger against her nose, she pushed it so it bent at an awkward angle. "I saw the before pictures. No way that woman didn't have work done."

"And your ability to drop into character like that?"

Some of her humor faded, and she looked at her coffee as she spoke. "I was a theater kid."

Two plates of food clattered on the table, and our waitress walked off without checking if we needed anything else. Millie picked up a fork and dug in, eyes rolling back in her head as she licked syrup from the tines of her fork. The crotch of my pants grew tight.

"So about tomorrow," she said after demolishing her pancakes.

My food was barely touched. My appetite had shifted to something else watching her eat, and when I replied, it was a bit more harshly than I intended, "What about tomorrow?"

Her brows dipped into a sharp V, and a bit of her earlier acerbic tone returned. "You promised I could have free time."

The image of hands shoving her toward the concrete blossomed in my mind, and I shook my head before opening my mouth. "I don't think—"

"Lochlan, you promised."

"It's not sa—"

She grabbed her phone off the table as it began to ring. A familiar number scrolled across the screen. "Hello. Oh, of course. Tomorrow is perfect."

My knuckles turned white around my mug. She ended the call and went back to her food. Finally, I snapped, "Who was that?"

"That was Anna. We're going shopping tomorrow. So you don't really have a say in my day."

I let her finish her food without another word. Let her think she won because there was no fucking way I was letting her spend the day alone with Mrs. R without some kind of protection. For the both of them.