The room is dark. For a few moments, there’s disorientation that often accompanies waking in a new place.
“W-what?” My voice is incredibly hoarse, and my body hurts in a way that is delicious and satisfying. Still sleepy and satiated, I glance down at the man who has me in his arms. The events of last night come back in the most horrifying of ways.
“Oh, fuck,” I moan, collapsing into Oliver’s arms. “Oh, fuck me!”
“I think I already did,” comes the amused response.
Oliver’s eyes are open, and he seems tired. I see the dark circles under his eyes, the ones I’ve been seeing for weeks now.
“We fucked up,” I say bluntly.
He doesn’t let go of me. “Did we?”
“Yes.”
Burying his face in my shoulder, he mumbles, “Go back to sleep. We’ll deal with the consequences in the morning.”
I sigh, honestly wanting to listen to his advice. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
He releases me. I clamber over him, then run to the bathroom, wincing at the pungent smell of vomit. It also reminds me to call Lucas to find out what happened.
When I return, Oliver has pulled on his pants. He’s on the phone. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”
“Was that Lucas?” I ask, reaching for my dress. I ignore the way my abdomen tightens at the appreciative glance he sends my way. “How’s Elise?”
Oliver gives me an inscrutable look before replying. “Turns out there was no stomach bug. Elise is pregnant. Three weeks.”
I freeze at the news, my mouth drying, “What?”
“She didn’t want anyone to know. She’s quite distraught.” Oliver’s features are strained, and I recall him telling me about his unborn child. He hadn’t even been given the chance to celebrate before he’d had to grieve.
“I should go see her,” I murmur.
“It’s late.” Oliver doesn’t bother putting on a shirt, his expression haunted. “It’s four in the morning.”
“Why is Lucas—”
“He didn’t want to leave her alone.”
Sighing, I run my fingers through my hair, my mind shifting to the events that had just taken place on the couch. My mind still isn’t altogether, and I feel slightly off kilter.
“This shouldn’t have happened,” I say again. Oliver doesn’t correct me.
“I didn’t—”
I cut him off with a frustrated look, “I was there, Oliver. I know what happened. I’m not blaming you. I know how to take responsibility for my actions.”
He frowns. “We were both a little drunk. You don’t have any right to play the martyr, despite it being your favorite role.”
“Oh, shut up,” I say lightly. His grin is unexpected, and it makes him boyishly charming.
“This was a one-time thing,” I declare, sinking onto the coffee table. “This can’t happen again.”
He doesn’t seem pleased by that. “What’s wrong with—”
I quell him with a squinted glare, quietly saying, “I’m not the type to sleep around, Oliver. No matter what people say. And, in a way, you are my boss, which makes this highly inappropriate.”
I can see the protests rising on his lips he quells them and finally settles on, “I won’t be your boss forever.”
My head snaps toward him. There’s something new in his eyes, something I hadn’t bothered to see before. Interest.
“What are you saying?” I feel uneasy.
He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “Just pointing it out.”
After a few brief moments of silence, I say slowly, “Right.”
“I’m not in the market for a relationship, Oliver. I’m focused on my career. And if what happened tonight comes out, one of us will have to leave.” I meet his eyes now, my own troubled. “And we both know it will be me.”
I rise, feeling uncomfortably awkward. Mostly, I feel shaken.
“This job is important to me. I can’t sacrifice it. I’m sorry.”
As I step away from him, there’s a flaring pain in my chest. I bite my lip when I reach the door, glancing over my shoulders to see him studying me, his expression inscrutable expression.
He lets me leave.
On the other side of the door, I smile bitterly.
Look at how good I am at ruining things.
7
Oliver
It’s been a week since Lana and I slept together.
A week of polite hellos and averted eyes.
I take it in stride, even though the sting of rejection hasn’t faded.
As I walk into the building, I see Elise sitting behind her desk, her usual smile missing.
“How’re you feeling?” I approach her. A forlorn expression on her face, she lifts her eyes to mine.
“Awful,” she mumbles.
She’s short by stature. Right now, she appears even smaller. I feel a protective urge rise in me. She’s usually so bubbly and happy. To see her like this unnerves me.
Only Lucas, Lana, and I are aware of Elise’s pregnancy, but she’s refused to share any further details—not even with Lana. Lucas hangs around like a mournful puppy that has been kicked, and the dismal atmosphere is starting to get to me.
“It’s not the end of the world, Elise,” I say, trying and failing to sound supportive.
Her eyes widen in shock at my curt tone, so I try to soften it.
“You’re having a child. Knowing you, even only for this brief time, I have a feeling you will be a fantastic mother, so the baby is incredibly lucky.”
There’s a rawness to my tone, a string of hurt I try to suppress.
“Of course I’ll love my baby.” Hands creeping over her flat belly, she appears slightly offended.
“And nobody’s going to fire you because you forgot to use a condom.”
I should really work on my communication skills, I berate myself when her face turns red. However, she just fidgets miserably.
“I told him to.”
The words were whispered in shame, and probably not meant for my ears, but I stiffen in cold rage when they reach me.
However, I can do nothing more than offer my support to this young woman—the only who has not treated me like a leper since I got here.
“Whatever you need, you let Lana or me know,” I say gruffly. As an afterthought, I say, “And maybe Lucas.”
“Thank you, Mr. Thornton.” A small smile tugs at her lips, and it cheers me up that someone’s day is looking up.
I nod. “I mean it. You’re good at your job. We’re not letting you go because of this.”
The verbal job security I’ve offered her makes her shoulders relax.
“I wanted to let you know. There’s a young woman arriving in half an hour. Send her straight up to my office.”
Her face scrunches at the strange request, but she nods. “Sure thing.”
I walk away from her, feeling a bit more satisfied.
* * *
It’s the afternoon when I hear voices outside. I glance up to see Lana wearing a scowl, my new assistant trailing behind with her lips pursed disapprovingly.
“I told her to wait, Mr. Thornton.” She looks annoyed, and I wave my hand.
“That’s quite all right, Val. Can you send me the Zaran Reports after you’re done with them?”
She nods and retreats, but not before throwing Lana another hostile scowl.
Lana doesn’t appear happy. “Who’s that?”
I choose to ignore her, continuing to flip through the reports I already have before me. “My assistant, Valerie.”
When I don’t offer any additional information, she makes a huffing sound. “I thought you didn’t have time to train an assistant?”
Distractedly, I glance up. “I don’t. I’ve worked with her before. She used to be my PA when I worked in the US a few years back. I gave her a call.”
Lana appears unsettled, throwing another look over her shoulder at the opaque glass. “Why didn’t you call her before?”
Now, I lean back and study her. “At first, I was committed to working on this company for a year. Now, I want to wrap this project up as quickly as I can. Valerie is efficient enough to make that happen.”
Lana’s obvious shock soothes the injured hurt I’m nursing inside my chest. Her voice isn’t steady. “You’re leaving?”
“Not yet,” I reply. “But maybe in a few more months. I have no reason to prolong my stay here if I can finish the restructuring early.”
Her face is pale. Her brain is working overtime, clearly trying to figure out the right response. Finally, she hoarsely asks, “Is this because of what happened between us?”
I eye her for a moments before lying through my teeth. “No. That was a one-time thing. Those were your words.”
Lana struggles to say something, and I raise a brow. “Will that be all, Miss Hill?”
She blanches at the way I’ve put up a barrier between us, the same one she had been intent on building since I arrived here.
It satisfies me to see that, however she might pretend, the night between us had meant something to her, no matter how miniscule, and she’s taken aback by how I’m so openly rejecting her.
It’s vicious and petty, but my insides have been savaged once before. I’m not going to hand my heart over to somebody who doesn’t want it, not for a second time.
However, Lana isn’t one of those women who just rolls over without a fight.
She adjusts her glasses, giving me a cold look. “Okay, then. Fine. However, anyone you hire has to go through me. So, tell your assistant to send her paperwork to me by the end of the day so I can process her into the system.”
“I’ll make a note of that,” I retort.
We glare at each other, stuck at an impasse, then she turns on her heel and leaves.
When she’s gone, I realize I never asked her what she wanted from me in the first place.
After brooding for another half an hour, I get up and grab my coat. “Val, hold my appointments for the next hour. I’m going out.”
Valerie gives me a nod. “Sure thing.”
It’s nearing April. As I exit the building, I let the breeze play with the ends of my coat. It’s almost refreshing. The apartment Caleb has given me is close by. It’s comfortable enough for my needs, but I find myself missing London.
I don’t have any family left, I muse as I find an empty bench in the park nearby. It’s not like I have anyone left. And yet, being here makes me feel empty.
I think of Lana now, ferocious little thing she is, who refuses to let anyone tame her.
It should annoy me that she feels resentful toward me for attempting to move on, especially after telling me that she wants nothing to do with me. But it doesn’t.
It gives me hope.
Hope I want to squash.
Because hope means another opportunity to let someone crush my heart.
And yet, I stare longingly at the couples who are scattered across the park. Does it make me strange I yearn for that again, that connection I thought I had with Nyla, the connection that is vivid and strong and so vibrant with Lana, the way it never was with my wife?
Nyla never opposed me.
She never questioned anything I did.
She liked playing the housewife, preferred leaving the major decisions to me.
Lana is the polar opposite, so fiercely independent, yet trying to hide such stark vulnerability. Yet, she refuses to be coddled. If anyone dares to attempt it, they won’t survive the encounter.
I hadn’t known it was possible to be this enamored by a woman after knowing her for such a brief time. But here I am, so helplessly drawn to this infuriating woman, unable to protect my own heart, which is slipping through my grasp.
Gaze dull, I watch a mother chase her exuberant toddler around the tree across from me.
I hadn’t been lying when I told Lana I intend to leave as quickly as possible. I had lied about the reason, though. I don’t want to give her more time to tighten her grip on my heart.
I need a clean break, I tell myself. A clean break from everyone and everything.
Am I running away?
Maybe.
But I remember the torture I went through two years ago, the way I had hit rock bottom, and how I had crawled my way inch by inch to get where I am now. I knew I was gruffer, my attitude harsher, but I was still trying to walk away from a betrayal and a loss that had torn my world and beliefs into shreds.
My instincts scream if Lana ever got this close to me, the damage she could wrought would be permanent.
So, yes. I’m willing to take the coward’s way out.
“You look like the neighborhood pervert,” comes a familiar voice from my right. I glance over to see Lucas, and he plops next to me.
“Weren’t you supposed to be with Caleb?” I ask idly.
The lawyer stretches his long legs, sighing. “I picked him up from the airport. He’s getting us some hot dogs from the stand.” When I raise my brow, unable to imagine Caleb eating hot dogs like a normal person, Lucas misunderstands my look and adds, “I saw you from where I parked the car. Told him to get you one as well. So…” He gives me a long look. “You seem like you could use a hug.”
“Touch me and I’ll break your hands,” I threaten mildly.
“His hands sign contracts for me,” Caleb cuts in. His tone is light as he takes the seat next to me, suggesting, “Go for the nose. He’s especially proud of it.”
“What is this, a fucking support group?” I ask with disgust, taking the hot dog held out to me.
“Lucas says you’ve been distracted lately,” Caleb says, biting into his food with relish.
For a few moments, I allow myself to imagine them, hunched over their phones while gossiping about me. The vision is so funny that I smirk.
“I hired an assistant,” I inform Caleb.
“So I heard.” After pausing to wait for me to say something else, he asks, “How’s Lana?”
What he’s implying is clear, but I pretend not to understand. “I’m not her babysitter.”
Lucas grins. “I sure hope not.”
I’m not sure what they think they know, but I’m not telling them jack shit.
“How was your trip?” I ask, knowing Caleb is immersed in some personal affairs that have him a little on edge.
Just as I had anticipated, his expression grows dark, and the conversation is guided into neutral territory by Lucas.
* * *
When I head back to the office, Lana’s in a deep discussion with Elise, who seems tense. The former glances in my direction, her posture turning rigid.
Internally, I get firm control over the way my chest throbs in response.
I nod to both before Lana’s voice stops me in my tracks. Shifting sideways, I see her striding determinedly toward me, her expression set.
I wait until she reaches me. “Yes?”
Now that she’s in front of me, she appears agitated. “Jace Hunter. He’s a junior executive in the Finance department.”
I recall the name. I’ve been reviewing some of his projects.
Lana plows on. “Ever since the first few files you had me go through, I’ve been sorting the employee files. I’ve highlighted some, and I left them with your assistant.”
The resentment in her eyes at the mere mention of Valerie shouldn’t delight me. But it does.
“Jace has been passed over for a promotion several times. I’ve started hearing he’s receiving offers from other firms, firms that he’s worked with as a liaison.” Lana takes a deep breath. “His file is the top one. His supervisor is Siemens Warte.”
I can’t help but snort at the name. I was aware of him as well.
“It’s an odd name, I agree.” Lana’s lips twitch even as she tries to control them. “I’ve left my notes on both files. They might be of help. You might want to interview them.”
From her expression, it’s like she wants to say more. I wait, patience a gift I possess unlimited amounts of. �
�Is there something else on your mind?”
Her sulky pout on her lips is the most endearing thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I have the urge to kiss it away, but she’s not mine, and she doesn’t want to be.
She struggles, an almost visible effort, then asks, “Valerie… how long have you known her?”
Jealousy?
“A while,” I say nonchalantly. “Like I said, she used to work with me. She knows all my habits and quirks. Plus, she’s easy to talk to.”
I don’t know why I added the last part, but the flare in Lana’s eyes makes it worth it.
After I watch her leave, I ask myself whether this is the game we’re destined to play, both trying to hurt the other.
I make my way to my office. When Valerie hands me the files, I skim through Jace’s file. I’ve seen it before, but the man has potential and he’s an asset to the company.
“Call Jace Hunter up to my office, Val.”
An hour later, I’m sitting across from a serious-looking man with intelligent brown eyes and a full head of hair that is perfectly slicked back.
“Why have you been passed up for a promotion, Mr. Hunter?” I ask easily, his file open in front of me.
He doesn’t seem intimidated by me, only crossing his legs in response. “I’d suggest you ask Crawford that. Or Lana Hill.”
My mouth twists at the sardonic tone laced with carefully veiled anger.
A spark of annoyance blazing at the blame being cast toward Lana.
“Miss Hill sent me your file, highlighting this fact,” I inform him, trying to keep my tone genial.
There’s surprise in his eyes at that.
That’s right, you little asshole. Go on, say something nasty about Lana, I dare you. My thoughts are dark.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” he admits, and I feel a surge of satisfaction. But then he continues. “I pointed out some discrepancies in the financial statements to the auditor when I first got here. The man was on Crawford’s payroll. The rest is, well…”
He doesn’t bother to elaborate, and he doesn’t have to.
“What can you tell me about Siemens Warte?” I ask with a vague smile, congratulating myself on having the moral courage to say Siemens out loud without being overcome by an urge to laugh.
Resisting the Brit Page 6
