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“We assumed it would be fine because it was about the match.” I managed to keep any venom out of my voice. I despised being treated like a child. Ordered not to speak to someone. Even if that someone was Vince, who I didn’t want to interact with anyway.

I wished none of it had happened. I wished I’d just stuck to the script, because then Vince would have had no reason to accost me in my dressing room after the match.

And we wouldn’t have…

I cringed and gulped down a mouthful of my drink, trying not to think about it. Every time I did, heat gathered in the pit of my stomach and my cock reacted.

My win in the match didn’t even feel like any kind of victory. I’d still lost. I’d still ended up humiliating myself, once again turning into that mindless, desperate, pathetic mess with him. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I didn’t know why or how he could make me act like that. I didn’t know what to think about any of it.

“You’re just a dirty little slut, aren’t you, Crossbody? Your highness?”

A shiver raced up my spine, so I gulped down more of my gin and tonic. I wasn’t. I wasn’t that. I was a prince. I was refined and dignified.

When I had sex—admittedly, it had been a while before Burke—I was in control. I was graceful and elegant. Sensual. Alluring. Not messy. Not… gagging on a cock with spit running down my chin or humping the other person desperately because I’d lost all rational thought.

I wasn’t the needy, slutty thing he somehow managed to make me become. I wasn’t. Not usually.

But I’d also never responded to someone so strongly before. And I hated it.

“Well.” Corey’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts, making heat rush to my cheeks as I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “At least your request for Holt to pair you up seems to have achieved what you hoped it would, if you were able to have a civilised conversation.”

“Yes. Working together seemed to help.” My voice was hoarser than before.

“And that’s fortunate, seeing as you and Vince are fighting again this weekend.” Corey raised a brow at me.

I tensed at the reminder. We’d gotten the match line-ups this morning at work, and Holt had indeed paired us up again for what he called our ‘redemption match.’

“Do not fucking deviate from the script this time,” he’d told us sternly. “You two are going to set an example. Follow the fucking script, follow Hogbody’s instructions, and behave like the damn professional wrestlers you are. If I see so much as a foot move an inch further than what you practise in rehearsal, I swear to god I’ll… Well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but it’ll be bad. Like, really bad. I’m super serious. Do not make me become a tyrant, because I will. I have the outfits for it already and everything.”

Vince had not looked happy. I wasn’t either. But neither of us had dared to argue.

There had been this disgusting, uncomfortable sensation in my gut since the night of our match. Almost like… guilt. Which was ridiculous. I hadn’t asked Vince to try and get me out of trouble. I’d been fully prepared to take the fall for my foolhardy actions.

For once, he’d been blameless.

But that didn’t mean I could bring myself to thank him. He’d still humiliated me that night. Calling me those names, making me mindless, taunting me.

Stroking my cock and rutting against me until I’d been sobbing with pleasure.

I loathed him for making me act that way. For getting me to expose myself so much in front of him. For, once again, taking back all the power and control.

I loathed him.

“Anyway, enough about work.” Corey picked up his martini and held it out to clink his glass against mine. “What have you been up to? Any dates?”

I tensed but tried not to show it. Dating and relationships were an extremely touchy subject for me. For multiple reasons. When Corey asked me about it, I usually just lied and said I’d been seeing someone but it had fizzled out.

I did the same now. “I’ve been out to dinner with a few people, but no one really held my attention.”

He laughed, sipping his drink. “You’re so picky, darling. I understand. I am too.”

“I don’t think I’m picky, I just… have expectations.” I shrugged lightly. “It’s hard to find someone with the same interests as me.”

I knew that wasn’t an easy feat. I was a fae prince who wrestled professionally. That alone was a juxtaposition that people struggled to understand. And I knew that many people would consider the few hobbies I had as dull or isolating, but I preferred them that way. I liked doing them alone, because they were the things that soothed me.

Corey cocked his head. “I think I’d get bored if someone I was with only liked the same things as me.”

“But you at least need some common interests. Like preferring a nice restaurant over”—I curled my lip and waved a hand—“picking up a greasy burger at the drive-thru of a cheap fast food place and calling it a date.”