Dangerous Dreams

by Roxanne Riley

  Dangerous Dreams:

  A Modern MMF Bisexual Ménage Fairy Tale Retelling

  Copyright © 2020 by Roxanne Riley

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction and any portrayal of any person living or dead is completely coincidental and not intentional. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the author, other than brief excerpts for the purpose of reviews or promotion.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Rory

  Chapter Two

  Griffin

  Chapter Three

  Phillip

  Chapter Four

  Griffin

  Chapter Five

  Rory

  Chapter Six

  Rory

  Three Weeks Later

  Chapter Seven

  Rory

  Two Days Later

  Chapter Eight

  Phillip

  Chapter Nine

  Griffin

  Two Weeks Later

  Chapter Ten

  Rory

  One Week Later

  Epilogue

  Rory

  Special Inside Look into Forbidden Fruit!

  Chapter One

  Rory

  I peered out the window for what felt like the millionth time. Not that it made a difference. High as we were, all I could see for miles was blue sky and a blanket of fluffy white clouds beneath us.

  “Staring isn’t going to make us get there any faster, you know,” my manager, Griffin, chides me.

  I turn and look over at him. Unlike me, who dressed comfortably for the flight, Griff is still all business in a sleek gray suit, but somehow he still looks more relaxed than I feel. I know it’s a façade, though, he hates flying.

  But even so, that suit is draped, miraculously wrinkle-free, on his muscular frame, perfectly tailored and drop-dead sexy. I tear my eyes away from him before he catches me staring, though.

  I’ve had a massive crush on my manager as long as I’ve known him, honestly. But while we’re closer than most manager-client relationships, I have a nasty feeling he’s always going to see me like some kind of little sister figure or something.

  “I’m just excited,” I protest, “I haven’t gotten to visit in forever.”

  “It has been a while,” he admits.

  I can’t help but think, a little bitterly, that I would have been away even longer if Griffin had gotten his way. I’d auditioned for a movie role he was pushing, hard, but when I found out the filming schedule would require me to be in New Zealand over my best friend’s eighteenth birthday, I’d turned it down.

  A girl only turns 18 once, and I’m what kind of best friend would I be if I weren’t there to celebrate with her?

  Griffin had disagreed, and we’d had a nasty argument over it. Admittedly, the role was a great one, the first in a massively popular book franchise with the potential for multiple sequels. But honestly, though I couldn’t admit it to Griff, the idea of getting involved in a big box-office series like that didn’t really appeal to me anyway.

  I’ve been acting since I was in diapers. My parents had both been in the world of film, my dad a director and my mom was a makeup artist who’d had a few small roles on screen. So at six months old, I was in my first television episode, and it had been the first role of dozens.

  So I know, to an extent, that I’m always going to be associated with certain characters I play, but those big, iconic roles intimidate me. It feels like some characters are just too big, like I’d end up losing my identity and just become “that girl who played so-and-so” for good.

  “You know, I got another call from Ocean last week,” Griffin remarks absently, drawing my attention.

  “What did they want?” I ask.

  “Same thing they’ve wanted for a while, for you to sign on for an album.”

  I sigh and bring my thumbnail to my lips, ready to bite it, but looking down, I see that the nail is already too short from my bad habit for me to gnaw it down further. “Stop,” Griffin warns, “Do I need to get that bitter stuff again?”

  I make a face. Griffin had been trying to break me of nail-biting for years, and on one occasion, had bought some kind of nail polish stuff that tastes absolutely foul. It had worked, for a little while, but eventually it wore off and I wound up drifting right back into the habit.

  I tuck my hands under my thighs, glaring at him. “No, mother,” I spit sarcastically at him.

  He sighs and shakes his head, and I feel a tiny niggle of guilt in my stomach. I shouldn’t be such a snot to him, but it frustrates me that he still sees me as the ten-year-old girl he first met. That was almost ten years ago, but no matter what I do, I can’t shake his perception of me as just a kid.

  “What did you tell them?” I ask finally, dragging him back to our discussion of the record label.

  “That I’d talk to you,” he replies simply.

  “And what exactly does that mean? Like, ‘I’ll talk her into it,’ or like ‘Don’t call us, we’ll call you’?” I ask, leveling him with a skeptical gaze.

  “It means let’s talk, Rory,” he sighs, “I’m not making that decision for you.”

  I want to go for it. I love to sing, and recording an album is honestly my dream. I’ve been in multiple musicals, and I’ve been the speaking and singing voice for an animated princess, and I’ve loved every minute of it.

  But when it comes to a real album, fear’s been holding me back. While I’m confident in my voice, I’m not nearly as confident as a songwriter. I feel like I’m just lacking that inspiration, that heart behind the words.

  I’m scared that I’ll take it, get this dream, and when I put it out to the world, I’ll be laughed at. It’s stupid, and I shouldn’t be so insecure, but I am. I wish I could be more like Lumi, actually. This party isn’t just for her birthday, actually, it’s also a release party for her debut album.

  I’ve heard it already, of course, I’ve been listening to it nonstop since she sent me the samples, and one of the tracks is set as my ringtone. It’s amazing, with tracks that run the gamut from catchy bubblegum anthems to the raw, heart-wrenching ballad that literally brings tears to my eyes every time.

  And I’m so jealous it makes me sick.

  I wish I was that brave, to put my heart on the page like she did with those lyrics.

  “You liked doing the tracks on Stone Soul, right?” he asks, naming a movie I’d been in recently where I had also recorded several songs for the soundtrack.

  “Well, yeah, but-“

  “And you’ve told me over and over how this was your dream. You’ve been dying for this as long as I’ve known you, and now it’s right here and you’re balking,” he reminds me.

  “I know, I know,” I groan, “It’s just…it’s one thing to dream about something and to actually do it.”

  “Yeah,” he agrees, but then adds: “And plenty of people never even get close to getting to do something they’ve dreamed of like this.”

  I shoot him a glare. “Thanks for the guilt trip.”

  “That’s not what I meant, Rory,” he sighs, clearly exasperated, “I’m just saying, you’ve got a huge opportunity, and we both know you’ve got the talent to do something amazing with it.”

  He drops the words so matter-of-factly, they don’t even sound like a compliment. But that alone kind of makes the words mean more, because it’s just completely genuine, and it gives me a little wave of the warm fuzzies.

  “Thanks, Griff,” I whisper,
looking down at my hands.

  He bumps his shoulder lightly against mine. “Hey.”

  I look up at him. Griffin is devastatingly good-looking, and honestly it’s a wonder he doesn’t get behind a camera, himself, at least as a model or something. His blue-grey eyes meet mine levelly, something some people struggle with.

  I’ve got heterochromia, which is just a big, fancy, intimidating word that means my eyes are different colors. The right is green and the left is blue, and people seem to find it distracting sometimes, feeling like they have to focus on one eye or the other.

  But Griff is one of only a handful of people in my life who’s never had any issue.

  “I’m not trying to push you into this if you don’t wanna do it,” he tells me softly, “That’s not my job. But I don’t get it. What’s holding you back, Ror?”

  Honestly, aside from Lumi, Griffin really is my closest friend. Hell, he’s closer to me than my own family, and part of me wants to share my fears with him. But before I can bring myself to do it, the flight attendant makes her way to us, collecting drink cups and trash before we land.

  The distraction gives me just enough time to chicken out, and when she walks away, I’ve lost the nerve. “Just give me a little longer to make up my mind, ok?” I tell him.

  He nods, still regarding me seriously. “And you know I’ve got your back no matter what you decide, right?” he asks.

  Another wave of warm fuzzies washes over me. “Thanks, Griffin,” I tell him again, “I know.”

  “Just don’t wait too long, all right? Ocean won’t wait forever, even for you.”

  I nod, then turn my gaze back out the window. To my delight, we’re finally below the clouds and I can see the sprawl of a city below. So for now, I push my insecure worries to the back of my mind and instead try and focus on the fun at hand.

  Chapter Two

  Griffin

  When I make my way back to the table from the restroom and find it empty, all I can do is let out an annoyed sigh. I should have known better than to let Rory out of my sight. Although at least normally when Lumi is around, she tends to be on slightly better behavior.

  And unfortunately, I’d gotten hijacked at least four times on the way there and back, so what was supposed to be a quick trip had turned into almost an hour trying to drag myself away from business chatter.

  I’ve been working with Aurora Rayne since she was ten years old. I was 19 at the time, a new hire at her management company, and I was working directly under her former manager. I didn’t officially take over managing Rory full-time until about four years ago, when she was sixteen.

  She’s an incredibly talented young woman, and for the most part, I enjoy working with her. She’s not like my other clients, she’s almost more like family to me. I love her, and honestly, I’d be lost without the brat, but sometimes, like right now, I kind of want to wring her neck.

  Something about party scenes like this just brings out Rory’s wild side. She’s not nearly as out-of-control as the tabloids like to paint her, though. In print, they make her look like a spiraling former child star who needs her ass dumped in rehab, when the reality is that she’s just like any other girl her age, sneaking a few underage drinks and dancing.

  As I’m scanning the crowd for her, I spot Lumi, standing beside her father and talking to a producer I vaguely recognize, but her blue eyes keep darting to the left. I follow her gaze and see a familiar blonde head dipping through the crowd.

  “Damn it,” I mutter, trying to weave through the throng to get to her.

  I lose sight of her, however, and my annoyance flares. Part of me wishes I had just sent her to this thing alone, since she’s dodging me anyway, but I can only imagine what kinds of headlines she’d create if I weren’t around to do at least some level of damage control.

  I don’t like being the wet blanket. Shit, when I was her age, I was getting into way worse. I remember spending my days on set with her and other clients and my nights exploring some of Hollywood’s crazy side.

  But the difference is that my life isn’t under the microscope. I don’t have paparazzi hounding my every move the way she does. I move through these circles unseen, even now, in a way that she never will. And on some level, I know it’s not fair, but it also frustrates me to have to chase her when she knows the consequences as well as anyone.

  When I finally catch sight of her again, I see that Lumi has managed to extricate herself from her father and has chased Rory down herself. They’re talking to a man who looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place.

  I start to push through the throng towards them. “Rory!”

  Her head whips around and even across the crowd, her eyes meet mine. For a moment, I completely forget my annoyance and forget that she’s my client, and I’m just struck by how beautiful she is. Her blonde hair glows around her face like a halo and her cheeks are flushed a soft pink.

  It’s no wonder she’s been sought after as a model all her life. She’s got the face of an angel and a body made for sin, and the combination is downright lethal.

  But even as far as I am, I can read the swear on her lips when she realizes she’s been spotted. She turns back to Lumi for a moment, then I see her zip away.

  How the hell is she so fast? She’s wearing six inch heels, for fuck’s sake!

  It snaps me out of my stupor, though, and I feel disgusted with myself. Not only is Rory my client, she’s way too young for me, right?

  Some twisted part of my mind reminds me that she’s nineteen, she’s an adult, but even so, she’s almost ten years younger than me, that has to be out of line.

  “Griffin? Griffin Wells?” a female voice calls.

  Reluctantly, I tear my eyes away from Rory, swearing under my breath as I plaster a smile on my face and turn to see who’s calling me.

  I’m rapidly sucked into another chat with a casting director Rory’s worked with before, who’s raving about a role she desperately wants to put her in.

  When another glance shows me that I’ve lost Rory in the crowd yet again, I resign myself to the inevitable damage control and decide that since I’m here anyway, I might as well see what I can do for her and my other clients.

  So I slip into “manager mode,” schmoozing casting directors and other agents. Not just for Rory, but for my handful of other clients as well, although I’ll be the first to admit that Ms. Rayne takes up a good majority of my time.

  And I’m not really sure I’d want it any other way.

  Chapter Three

  Phillip

  “Lumi Leblanc sure as hell knows how to throw a party,” my friend Charles muses as he takes a swig from his drink.

  “No shit,” I agree, looking around.

  I wasn’t actually expecting to enjoy myself at this thing, but Lumi’s a cool chick, so I had dragged myself here anyway. We’d done a movie together earlier this year, with me playing her older brother. We didn’t have a lot of scenes, and not many where we were on-screen together, but I’d had the chance to hang out with her a little.

  She was a sweet kid, about four or five years my junior, and wicked talented. Even though it’s awfully pop-y for my tastes, her new album is pretty killer.

  And despite being a record release-slash-birthday party for an eighteen-year-old, there were plenty of cocktail waiters circling around with some truly excellent drinks.

  Speaking of which, I see a gentleman passing by now with a tray, but when I reach for a glass, my hand is met with warm, soft skin instead of glass. “Oh, sorry!”

  The hand I’d brushed draws back. I take the glass I’d been reaching for, and reach for another in my other hand. “Nothing to be sorry for,” I say, turning to the woman whose hand I’d brushed and offering her the second glass.

  Whoa.

  My arm reaches out to offer her the glass completely of its own will, because I’ve lost any kind of control I had over my mind.

  All I can think about is the stunning, striking beauty standing in front of me. Th
e long locks framing her delicate face shine like pure gold, and her voluptuous curves are wrapped in an iridescent party dress that seems to shift from pink to blue.

  The effect is downright ethereal, especially when I take in the sight of gemstone-colored eyes. One is a soft jade green, and the other is a beautiful pale blue. Not sapphires, but something paler. Aquamarine, maybe, or some kind of topaz. All I know is they sparkle with more fire than any stone I’ve ever seen.

  “Who are you?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  She looks surprised, but before she can speak or take the glass I’m offering, Charles steps in, plucking the glass from my hand. “Phillip, allow me to introduce the lovely Aurora Rayne. The lovely and definitely not twenty-one yet Aurora Rayne who I’m sure has already had more than enough liquor,” he remarks.

  The girl looks at him and a smile spreads across those petal-pink lips. Fuck, she’s even more beautiful when she smiles, and for one brief moment, I’m so jealous of Charles that I want to deck him, because he was the one to make her smile like that. “Charlie!” she squeals delightedly, throwing her arms around him, “How are you?”

  “Good, gorgeous, I’m good, how about you?” he asks, laughing and hugging her back.

  “Better now that I’ve slipped the leash,” she mutters, rolling her eyes and glancing over her shoulder.

  Charles snickers. “Poor Griffin. You put that man through the ringer, kid.”

  “Hey, I didn’t do anything, I’m just here to celebrate my best friend’s birthday!” she exclaims, “It’s not my fault Sergeant Sourpuss doesn’t want me to have any actual fun.”

  “You mean he doesn’t want some upskirt shot of you drunk-dancing on the bar splashed all over the gossip blogs tomorrow morning,” Charles corrects her.

  I nearly choke on my drink.

  Aurora glares and smacks his arm. “It happened once!” she exclaims before turning to me and offering her hand, “And it’s Rory, by the way.”