LUCAS‘ POV
I think Lara Ellington is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known. She’s perfect, flawless, lovely–boring.
What makes jewels so valuable is that they’re rare, hard to find, coveted by everyone. But a diamond in a vast sea of diamonds is
worthless.
Lara is worthless.
45
I think that as the door to her family’s mansion swings open and she comes into view. Gorgeous as usual, in a stunning dress her mother probably designed, not a hair out of place.
Unbidden, an image of April Farrah appears in my mind–her on the first day of the competition, standing between her sister and the loud one, a fierce look in her eyes, a bit of cupcake icing on her dress.
If you were running your hands through a bag of diamonds and came across a pebble, would you not stop to stare? Would you not be intrigued, wondering how it got there?
“Hi, Luc,” Lara greets, smiling with her perfect white teeth. I take her hand and bow, pressing a kiss on the back.
“Lara,” I murmur against her skin. It smells like jasmine. “You look beautiful as always.” She’s probably heard that compliment more times than the dollars in my father’s bank account. Yet, she flushes, her gaze lowering slightly.
Because those other compliments don’t matter–only mine does.
It’s a different kind of feeling, knowing that a girl as beautiful and unattainable as Lara Ellington wants you. And ye ordinary as April Farrah doesn’t.
1 as plain and
“So,” she says when we’re in the car on our way to the restaurant. “Did you really pull out my name by chance, or is it all part of the charade?”
I smile. “You sound perturbed. Are you worried that the truth will be uncovered?”
“No.” She shrugs. “I don’t care either way. I just… I don’t understand why bother. Why can’t you and I just get married without all this fanfare and showmanship?”
I chuckle. One thing that baffles me about Lara, which makes her perhaps not so boring, is her honesty. She’s blunt–says what she thinks when she thinks it. It’s a trait that would make life difficult for her if she didn’t have the shield of her family’s wealth and influence.
If I told her the truth about the competition, she wouldn’t get it. Her perfect nose would wrinkle in confusion, and she’d ask, Why can’t you just be honest?
Boring and naïve.
Our ‘date‘ is nothing different from what we’ve had before. Over the many years Lara and I have known each other, we’ve had countless dinners. Conversation is easy, fluid–travel (a tale of her previous summer in Milan), hobbies (she’s picked up knitting; somehow manages to make her fingers bleed on a blunt needle), family (Julian might come home in a couple of weeks; he’s been dying to catch up).
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Chapter 125
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If you ask Lara, she’ll say I’m a good listener. Because I smile and nod, interjecting the right sounds and questions at the right time. But I’m a multitasker, and as she drones on and on, my mind drifts.
I imagine a different girl–blonde hair, grey eyes. April wouldn’t chatter like Lara. She would stumble on her words, blush throughout, fumble with her cutlery.
Although now that she knows what I like, she might go mute on a date for a different reason.
Play with me?
No.
The memory still makes anger boil in my belly–anger and arousal.
No one, not Sarah or the countless maids I’ve had my fun with, have ever dared say no. It makes my mind race with all the ways I could
turn that ‘no‘ into a moan.
Playing with April would be fun, I think. She would be scared, unwilling. I would have to force her. She would struggle, try to scream, but I’d gag her.
I’d hold her down and press my stiffness into her. She would fight, but it would only excite me further. At some point, would she beg? After she’s screamed and fought to no avail, would she-
“So, would you?”
I blink at Lara. I don’t usually get distracted; my mind is perfectly capable of splitting into two. But thoughts of April Farrah have consumed it wholly, keeping me from focusing on boring Lara.
“Forgive me,” I say. “What did you say?”
Her perfect brows furrow. “Are you okay? You seemed like you zoned out.”
A smile I know is charming slips out as I reach out and take her hand. “You have my full attention, Lara.”
She exhales. “Okay.”
For the rest of the date, I don’t slip up. I keep my attention solely on Lara, the perfect gentleman. It’s an easy role to play–I’ve been playing it my whole life. When I drop Lara off at her house, I walk her to the door.
She blinks up at me, and I know what she wants–what comes next. I step in close, her scent wafting around me softly. There’s no strand of hair to tuck behind her ear, and I can’t touch her face so as not to mess up her makeup or ruin the effects of her expensive, luxurious
skin care.
So I take her hand, lean in, and place a chaste kiss on her lips. Her breath catches, and she sighs when I pull away.
“Good night, Lara,” I whisper.
“Do… Do you want to come in?” she asks softly, “Mother’s out, and Father is away on another trip.”
I give her my best regretful smile. “I’d love to, but it’s late.”
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Her sigh of disappointment is obvious.
She should be grateful, though. She would be terrified if I showed her the extent of my depravities. Plus, she wouldn’t be able to give me
what I want.
It’s the thrill of watching someone at rock bottom descend even further, to see just how low they can go. Someone I can exert complete control over. Lara will chafe and resist, scrunching her nose in disgust. And if I force her, she’ll scream in outrage. I’ve tried it before with an heiress and didn’t care for it.
But my maid has to do what I ask, no questions.
I stand at the door till she goes in before turning on my heels, relieved to be free.
When I return home, the mansion slumbers. Except I know–father is probably up working, mother on her third glass of chardonnay as she
rewatches Love Island.
As I walk into the house, a maid scuttles across. “Oh!” she exclaims, bumping into me. Her eyes widen when she sees me, and she shuffles
backward.
“I’m so sorry, Master Lucas,” she gasps, bowing. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
1 tilt my head, studying her. Maids–naturally submissive. Perfect playthings.
She looks familiar.
“You serve one of the contestants, don’t you?” I ask.
She lifts her head slightly. “Yes, Sir. Miss April.”
The smirk blooms on my lips before I even register it.
She blinks. “Is everything alright, Sir?”
I step in closer. “Not exactly what I want…” I let my eyes roam the expanse of her body as anticipation runs through mine. “But I’ll manage. For now.”
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