𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

33 || Banana

I gain her fathers approval to push the deal forward for a place high in the ranks of his company and Greta got to use me to keep up public appearances.

And so I had allowed her to use my name and the title of my 'first official girlfriend' to get us both places.

It was a simple trade off, really. To the public we were an item but behind closed doors we had no obligations to each other.

Only I hadn't considered just how much of a head case Greta could be. I was growing sick of her.

Whether it was her high pitched laugh, her need to shriek out at almost anything unexpected or her all out disrespectful behaviour, I always found myself debating if it was all worth it.

It needs to be done.

There was a bigger picture to this all, I needed to push through, lives were at stake.

I needed to hold off until the contracts were signed, declaring me majority owner in Arnold's company. Then it'd be over and the head case would be out of our lives for good.

But until then I was stuck with headaches and shitty days. Like today.

My day didn't start out horrible. I'd tasked my security team with making sure Giana's digital footprint was safe enough.

Only when my cursory had gotten the best of me and I'd logged online to take a look for myself, my mood had gone to shit.

Those harmless outfit pictures she'd been talking about weren't harmless. But I didn't have an issue with the way her clothes did little to hide the curves and dips of her body. I had an issue with the engagement she was receiving.

There were hundreds of saves on her posts. Most of which came from profiles of middle aged men. And the knowledge that random men had pictures of Giana and her body saved to their phones didn't sit right with me.

In fact it made me more upset than I'd thought it would because it was yet another fact that proved how much I cared.

Lines had blurred, temptation was getting stronger and I couldn't control it anymore. I told myself that it was just the circumstances we were put in. My muscles were tense the last time I spoke to her days ago, and she was just that good at giving a massage.

When in reality it was just an excuse to feel her hands on me and have her in my lap.

My control was hanging by a loose thread and I was going to snap. Give into her.

But then that little voice in my head, the one that knew the truth, knew that there were secrets to unpack, and things that'd break us washed over me like a cold shower and I did the only thing I could.

I pushed the blame.

It was easier to hone in on the fact that she was behind all my mixed emotions. A mass manipulator, trying to seduce me, and it was working but only because she was conniving.

My feelings weren't real, nothing but a byproduct of the way she'd played with them.

Even after she'd stormed out, I'd convinced myself that everything she did was to get a reaction out of me.