Jace doesn’t seem to care about that. “You mean aside from the fact his parents probably hated him because they named him ‘Semen’?”
I like this man.
I allow a smirk. “Yes.”
Jace settles into his chair. “He spent a lot of time with Crawford. He seems to hold a general disdain for HR because they keep trying bust his chops, but, while Crawford was here, Lana couldn’t do much about him. The man has two steady clients he works with. He’s prone to taking long business lunches, and the ladies despise him.”
Jace clearly seems pleased with the last part.
“That seems to be general information. I’m asking about his work.”
Jace shrugs. “Our projects don’t overlap that much, but he’s often signed his name on my work a few times. It doesn’t hold because I have ten times more clients than he does, and they refuse to work with him.”
When I don’t say anything. Jace arches a brow. “You don’t believe me? I can show you piles and piles of evidence.” His smile is thin. “You’re going to have a field day with the number of emails I can forward you.”
My lips curve.
8
Lana
The weekend with my father should have been a nice break. Instead, he spent half the time attempting to interrogate me about my love life. I couldn’t exactly tell him that I’d spent a night getting my brains fucked out by the foreign CEO whom I had just started to warm to.
Speaking of Oliver makes my mind shift toward the thought of the tall man. I felt an ache in my chest when I remember his face after I outright rejected him.
Lies, a part of me hisses in disgust. You want him so desperately it’s embarrassing. You’re a fucking liar.
I had spent the better part of the week trying to figure out a way to return things between us back to normal. He had been nothing short of gentlemanly while I was awkward and nervous, not knowing how to meet his eyes. I’d spent my nights dreaming of his large hands tracing over my body, his fingers sliding into me, his cock in my mouth. I would wake up wet and panting, and I despised myself for it.
I know there is something wrong with me.
But I mean what I said. I don’t want to jeopardize my career. But, at the same time, I don’t want to lose the one man whose presence curls around me, both suffocating and helping me breathe.
I use my foot against the desk, propelling my chair in a circular motion as I stare at the ceiling, “You’re overthinking this, Lana. You always overthink everything.”
I hadn’t expected Oliver to hire the pretty assistant who glares every time I march into his office unannounced. Scowling, I wonder at their history.
He calls her ‘Val’, a nickname, not just her first name. Using a nickname implies affection, history, or some personal relationship. It makes me jealous.
And I have no right to be jealous.
I have no right to want something I personally tossed out the window.
Yet, here I am, wanting to crawl into Oliver’s arms to kiss away his anger and indignation, wanting to tell Val the man with the smoky accent is mine, to lay my claim over him.
“You’ve lost your marbles,” I huff at the ceiling. “Get your shit together.”
Then I repeat it loudly because somebody needs to offer me this sterling piece of advice. Might as well be me.
“You’re going shit-faced over a man.” I’m still spinning in my chair, talking to the ceiling, in the hope that maybe my brain will register these comments as life lessons.
At some point, I decide there has to be more to life than lecturing the ceiling, so I lower my head, promptly feeling the dizziness take over as I stop the chair from spinning.
The knock on the door has me blinking, and a familiar face peeks in. “Miss Hill? Got a minute?”
I wave Jace in and raise a hand, shaking my head. “Sorry. A bit dizzy. Give me a second.”
It takes more than a second for me to gain my balance, and I hold on to the edge of the desk to steady myself. “Sorry. How can I help you, Jace?”
Jace appears concerned. “You all right?”
I can hardly tell him that I had been talking to the ceiling and spinning around in my chair, so I just give a vague smile that feels pained. “I’m okay. Thanks.”
It’s clear from his face he doesn’t believe me, but he lets it go, moving on to his reason for showing up. “Oliver offered me a promotion.”
A beaming smile breaks out on my face. “That’s fantastic. Congratulations.”
He gives me a dry look. “Well, technically, you’re supposed to officially offer it to me tomorrow from what he said. But I wanted to thank you for what you did.”
I pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about. “You got here on your own.”
He leans forward, his eyes earnest. “No, I mean it. You told him about my projects, and you handed my file to him. I appreciate it.”
My ears turn red. “Yes, well. You were long due for a promotion.”
He tucks his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for that. You’re not all that bad.”
“Gee, thanks. It’s been my life-long dream to hear someone say that to me,” I say wryly, my grin softening my words.
He chuckles. “Yeah, well, I aim to please.”
I see an email pop up on my laptop. It’s from Oliver.
“I have to go, Jace. But I’ll let you know as soon as I have the contract drawn up.”
I watch him stroll out before opening the email.
I’m not surprised to see the summons, but it pinches when I notice it has been sent from his assistant’s email.
You did this, I tell myself. You made your bed. Now lie in it.
Except I don’t want to.
Sighing, I’m about to stand when the door opens to reveal a frantic Hanna. “There are two men here to see you.”
She makes it so sound so ominous that, for a moment, all I can imagine is two sinister-looking mafia men about to barge into my office. However, my active imagination is shoved aside when I recognize one of the men who pushes opens the door completely, edging past my assistant.
“Fred…” I narrow my eyes. “What are you doing here?”
Fred, my older brother, grins, his green eyes twinkling. “I came here to see my baby sister.”
“Thank you, Hanna. It’s okay.” I dismiss my worried assistant, then turn to glare at my brother. “Your baby sister has a meeting. Don’t just show up at my office.”
I survey the man accompanying Fred.
He’s quite attractive with a dimpled smile, light brown eyes, and rakish brown hair. However, he stirs nothing in me.
“Hi, I’m Matt,” he offers, introducing himself.
I give him a cautious smile before settling my eyes on my brother almost accusingly, who, in turn, is staring at my glasses in disgust. “What the hell are those? Since when do you wear glasses?”
I touch the frames in a protective manner, my tone defensive. “Since forever. Mind your own business. Now, why are you here?”
Fred purses his lips at my shitty attitude, and I have the hysterical urge to show him my middle finger. “You’re hardly being welcoming, Lana.”
I bare my teeth. “This isn’t a social setting. It’s my workplace. I have an important meeting in a minute.”
Casually, Fred sinks into the seat across from me. “I’m sure it can wait. Matt’s a friend of mine. He just moved to D.C., so I told him that you could show him around.”
A surge of self-righteous indignation overwhelms the sting of how he’s just dismissed my meeting, as if it’s just a trip to the grocery store that can be delayed. “Excuse me?”
Fred doesn’t seem to understand he’s crossing a line. “Well, yeah. You can take a few half days—”
I slam my hands on the desk, suddenly furious. “This is my job, not a fucking hobby. I can’t just take random half days off because they suit you!”
Suddenly, everything is too much.
Oliver.
My feelin
gs.
My family.
My own fucking insecurities.
Fred’s face tightens dangerously. “Watch your language, baby sister.”
Matt isn’t smiling anymore, but something like interest flares in his eyes. Suddenly, I want to take off one of my heels and throw it in his face.
“I will if you stop offering me around like the bloody family whore!” My voice is loud. To my growing horror, my eyes flicker to a familiar figure entering my office.
As always, Oliver’s presence dominates the room, but the unearthly anger in his expression robs me of my voice.
“What is going on here, Lana?” He doesn’t raise his voice or make any elaborate gestures, but the chilling fury in his tone grips everybody in the room.
Fred stands as if sensing a threat, and Matt’s eyes narrow.
I take a deep breath, having never seen this side of Oliver. Appallingly, I find myself fascinated by it.
My brother, having adopted the stereotype of the macho male, takes a step forward. “This is a family affair.”
Oliver’s eyes shoot to me. I see the inferno raging behind his glittering eyes, and I suddenly fear for my brother.
“This is Fred, Mr. Thornton. He’s my brother. And he was just leaving.”
However, Fred doesn’t move and neither does Oliver, the men staring each other down. The latter is bigger in size. Although he’s leaner, the menacing aura that surrounds him would subdue a weaker man.
It’s Fred’s voice that makes me blink.
“Come on, Lana!”
It’s a sharp command, one he’s clearly expecting me to obey. Incredulously, I find myself repeating, “Excuse me?”
He turns to glare. “We’re leaving.”
I’m trying to figure out if my brother is just stupid or if he really doesn’t comprehend this job is my livelihood. I can feel Oliver’s gaze on me, so I slowly say, “No, you’re leaving. You and your friend.”
Hysterical laughter bubbles in the back of my throat, and I try to contain it. “I have to fix whatever damage you’ve managed to cause me.”
Fred is suddenly rounding the desk to reach me. Even as I flinch away at the naked fury and humiliation in his eyes, he reaches out to grip my wrist in a painfully tight hold that has me whimpering at the sheer violence of it. “That’s enough, Lana. Pack your stuff.”
For a few agonized seconds, it seems that everything has come to a halt. Fred has never been this harsh with me. Right now, his thick fingers are digging into my wrist so tightly that tears are springing to my eyes. There is an overwhelming shame in having Oliver witness this situation.
And just like that, my eyes shimmering with tears caused by the pain, everything suddenly speeds up as the scene snaps back to life. I watch with dazed disbelief as Oliver suddenly crosses over to me, and, in an eerily fast movement, snakes his hand out to twist Fred’s, forcing my brother to release me with a harsh sound. Before I can register the transition, I’m being shoved behind Oliver as he snarls at my brother. “Do that again, and I’ll have you arrested for assault.”
By now, Matt is frowning at Fred. “Fred, come on, man. This isn’t worth it.”
I can’t see my brother with Oliver’s broad shoulders blocking my view, but I hear him growl, “That’s my sister! What I do with her is none of your business.”
“The hell it isn’t.” I hear the wealth of emotion in Oliver’s voice, which is buried under layers of murderous rage. “Touch her again… and you’ll be leaving this building in a body bag.”
Not knowing what to do, having never been in a situation where I’m being protected and fought over, I go with instinct, curling my fingers into Oliver’s shirt and murmuring his name.
I feel the way his shoulders tense. Matt starts tugging at Fred, dragging him away. Fred’s gaze locks with mine. For the first time in my life, I fear the man who’s wearing my brother’s face.
I’m frozen in place, my hands falling numbly to my sides.
I take a step away, the back of my knees hitting the edge of my chair before I heavily fall into it, cradling my wrist with my other hand.
Eyes closed, I hear footsteps and then the closing of the door. The footsteps return before pausing as Oliver crouches in front of me. Fluttering my eyelids open, I meet his gaze.
I know I should say something—try to do something to repair whatever just happened—but I can’t find the right words.
Oliver reaches out for my wrist, and I let him examine the indentations of the finger marks left there.
“Does it hurt?” His voice is so uncharacteristically gentle I’m overwhelmed with the sudden urge to weep.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“Lana,” he murmurs. Closing my eyes against the tears I can’t seem to stop, I bury my face in his chest, feeling his voice vibrate through me. “It’s okay. I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”
I cry and I cry, my entire body shaking with the force of my wretched sobs.
Oliver wraps his arms around me, and I can’t stop the cries that are forced from my throat. He’s patient throughout, holding me tighter and tighter until it feels like I’ll be absorbed into him.
The sense of safety that flows through me at this gesture slowly calms me until I’m pressed against him, breathing audibly.
I could stay like this forever, I muse wearily. But I have to face reality at some point, so I pull away. He lets me, but he cups my face in his large palms and uses his thumbs to wipe away the lingering tears.
I lean into his touch, too tired to fight my attraction to him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He phrases it like a request, but it’s obvious he wants me to. He has a right to know.
But I don’t know what to tell him.
Because something like that has never happened before.
“I don’t understand myself,” I finally say, my voice almost a whisper. I pull away from his touch, feeling its addictive qualities soak into me. “My brothers, they sometimes introduce me to guys they think I should date, but it’s never gone this far. And Fred…” I run my hand over my face, miserable, confused. “He’s never acted that way before.”
“What you said before, just as I entered, explain that.” He’s carefully concealing the cold menace lurking underneath his skin. This time, his question is phrased as an order.
My lips twist in a self-loathing smile, and I bitterly spit out, “Do you know how dirty it feels, how demeaning, to have your brothers bring around guys, then point at me and say, ‘Please date her.’ I feel like a two-bit whore on display.”
Oliver’s teeth bare in response to my confession, and I can’t stop myself from continuing. “I know they love me, but they treat me like property they own. My job, my apartment, my life, none of it seems to matter to them. It didn’t—” Pleadingly, I trying to get him to understand. “It didn’t use to be this bad. It started after I graduated, when Glen started his business. Dad sold his repair shop to help him with the funds, then things started going downhill from there. They’d bring around their rich friends I’d never seen before, then encourage me to go out with them. Initially, I did.”
My hands are clenching and unclenching, a clear sign of my agitation. “I went out with a few once or twice. But they weren’t my type. And then, when it was the same conversation over and over again—I should marry; I should settle down—I moved out.”
Anger and upset a driving force, my words are harsh. “And then I bring home a guy, Sandler. I’d been dating him for a few months. He was sweet. One look at him and my brothers started asking him questions—where he lived, who his parents were, what he did, even how much money he made.”
Still disbelieving their actions, I spit out, “And they chased him off. I was so angry. So hurt.”
Oliver studies my face, his hands now on mine. His mind is working in overdrive, but he doesn’t offer to share his thoughts, nor do I ask him to.
“Does Lucas know?”
I shake my head. “He h
as an idea. But he doesn’t know the entire situation.”
I tug at his hand to get his attention. “This is why I can’t be with you, Oliver. My family is fucked up. And what’s worse is I still love them. I don’t want you to be around that. This job is my ticket to freedom. I can’t screw this up. I can’t afford to get fired. I can’t afford a relationship because I don’t want my family knowing about you.”
Oliver raises a brow, smiling faintly smile. “Well, they know about me now, don’t they?”
9
Oliver
I don’t know why I’d decided to go see Lana just minutes after getting Val to send her that email.
Whatever the reason, I had not been expecting Hanna to be outside wringing her hands, looking uneasy. When I had asked her if she were all right, she told me that two men had shown up to see Lana and the head of HR didn’t look happy.
My instincts had buzzed, and I walked into the room to hear Lana say in a loud voice, “Stop offering me around like the bloody family whore.”
Things had only gone downhill from there.
Now, as I watch the pale-faced woman sitting before me, I’m starting to understand why she’s so insistent on pushing me away. She’s on the phone with her father, rubbing her free hand over her face.
“I don’t know, Dad. Just keep him away from me!”
I’m leaning against the desk, standing next to her. I have the urge to stroke her hair, to do something to offer her some relief, some comfort.
“I don’t care. I could lose my job for this, Dad… That’s your opinion!” Lana lifts her head, her voice a growl now. “All of you just need to give me some space. I can’t deal with any of you. If Fred comes after me, I’m going to call the police. I mean it, Dad.”
Lana cuts the call, then tosses the phone onto the desk. She shoots me an angry scowl now, and it’s obvious she’s chosen anger in favor of misery to hold on to. “He’s defending him! He actually—” She chokes on the last word.
Resisting the Brit Page 7
