It seems Oliver isn’t the only one with a protective streak.
* * *
“I could have taken a cab,” I say through a yawn to the man next to me. He’s focused on the road, his hands on the steering wheel.
He avoids my statement. “Have you had breakfast?”
I shoot him a venomous look. “I would have if someone hadn’t insisted on waking me up so damned early.”
The man doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty. He just shrugs.
“There’s a few things I had to discuss with you about a project that was undertaken just before Crawford left.”
I stretch my legs, ignoring the way Oliver’s eyes dart toward them with unhidden interest.
“Eyes on the road, perv,” I mutter, wishing I had listened to my first instinct and let him bang on the door until my alarm had gone off.
He’s oddly cheerful for six in the morning.
“It’s too early for work, Oliver,” I complain loudly. Hopefully, he’ll get so annoyed by my whining he’ll stop the car, toss me out, and let me take a cab back to the penthouse and sink into that soft mattress.
But he’s back to playing his new game of ‘I’m going to ignore this unprofessional colleague of mine’.
Most of my frustration is to conceal my embarrassment at the man in question having seen me in my sleepwear.
A long T-shirt and Bambi pajama pants with my hair sticking up at every odd angle as I had gaped, barefooted.
The bastard had chosen to smirk, raking his eyes over my form in a deliberately provocative way.
When he doesn’t say anything, I scowl. “This isn’t even the way to the office. You missed the first exit.”
“We’re not going to the office,” he says shortly.
I settle into my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. “Well, if this is a kidnapping attempt, you should have told me beforehand. I wouldn’t have changed into office wear.”
That garners a reply, apparently.
“As charming as your attire was,” Oliver says with relish. “I doubt it would have been appropriate for where we’re going.”
I pounce on that. “You still haven’t said where we’re going.”
“You’ll see,” he replies mysteriously.
“I don’t even have enough savings to pay ransom,” I mutter in protest, still going along with my kidnapping theory to his obvious amusement.
When he doesn’t deign to say anything, I curl up as best as I can with a seat belt around me and close my eyes, attempting to catch a few more minutes of sleep with a last warning, “I expect my own bathroom.”
Oliver isn’t the only one who isn’t an early riser.
It’s a beautiful house with a sprawling lawn, the entire place having been converted into a restaurant or breakfast place of sorts, with elegant tables and chairs and shrubbery that is adorned with spring flowers.
It’s like walking into a fairy tale, so much dazzling color I’m left speechless as the host guides us to an empty table. A few are occupied, but the place is mostly empty.
“You want to discuss work here?” I ask, taking a seat and dazedly looking around.
Oliver appears incredibly pleased with himself. “Yes, and no. I wanted to try the breakfast menu here. It’s owned by a previous client of mine who designed this into a proper English experience. I thought you would appreciate it.”
I raise a brow. “Are we going to have tea and crumpets?”
Oliver gives me a pleasant smile. “Awfully stuck on those crumpets, aren’t you? Do you even know what one looks like?”
A blush creeps up my neck, but I refuse to give in, meeting his eyes head-on. “Nope.”
He laughs then, a short burst that is rich in sound. It makes me forget how to breathe for a moment. Giving me an affectionate look, he reaches out to lightly touch my hand. “Then, I’ll take one of your firsts today by feeding you a crumpet.”
The image his words bring to mind is an erotic one where he’s feeding it to me while I sit on his lap. The way he drawls ‘take one of your firsts’ is making my overactive imagination jump into overdrive as well, with other images that should carry an over-eighteen warning. When he gives me an odd look, I shake my head, getting rid of the sudden mental images crashing into each other.
A server comes around to serve coffee, leaving behind a basket of bread, butter, and jam. After he takes our order, he promptly disappears.
I sip at the hot coffee, nearly moaning at the exquisite blend.
“You look better,” Oliver suddenly says.
I lift my head, surprised by the change in his tone, then nod somberly. “I did some thinking last night. I don’t understand what my family is trying to do, but I’m not going to stand for it. I’ll give it a few months, but I might consider putting some distance between myself and them.”
Oliver lowers his cup, stilling. “Distance?”
I shrug. At most, I’ve flirted with the idea.
“Maybe change jobs at some point. I’ve been here for five years. With all this restructuring, maybe I should also consider a change.”
Oliver’s expression is impassive. “Nobody’s firing you, Lana.”
I smile wanly. “I know. But a change of scenery might be good for me. I should start thinking of setting down roots, away from my family. It’s getting too toxic.”
He considers my words before slowly saying, “That’s a lot of soul searching for one night.”
I flash a quick grin. “Maybe. It’s just something I’m toying with. I’m still here as long as Caleb needs me. If I abandon him right now, he won’t let me hear the end of it.”
“You and Caleb seem close,” Oliver remarks, reaching for a bread roll, his tone casual. He’s obviously probing for information.
I hesitate. “He took some business classes at a night school. I was also enrolled in them. It was years back. We just sort of became friends.” I snort then. “Not that Caleb has friends. He’s a manipulative piece of shit, and he knows it.”
There is no venom in my tone, just fond exasperation, and Oliver picks up on it.
“You, Lucas, and Caleb, there’s a bond there.”
I take the bread roll he’s buttered up and is now offering me. “I introduced him to Lucas. Like I said, Caleb doesn’t do ‘friends’. But he does understand loyalty. Which is why I’ll stay as long as I’m needed.” I sigh. “But if I get a better opportunity and the time is right, I might go for it.”
Oliver is silent, absorbing this information. “Your absence would be a huge loss to the company.”
I smile at that, flattered, yet realistic. “No, it won’t. Aside from handling employees—”
“You’re wrong,” Oliver cuts in, and I’m startled by his intensity as he watches me. “You’ve built a culture here. I have never seen a company with such an exquisitely managed HR department. Your shoes would be hard to fill.”
The warmth that seeps into my soul makes me go silent.
I’ve put my heart and soul into this company—to have it acknowledged like this? I have no words for this feeling of happiness.
“Thank you,” I murmur instead of getting any deeper.
The topic is changed when the server brings our breakfast. As I’m surveying the heap of food in front of me, I realize I’m already half full what with Oliver lathering the bread rolls with jam and butter and handing them to me.
He gives me an innocent look when he catches my withering gaze, then nudges my plate toward me. “Eat.”
He tells me about the project Warte had been working on with Crawford and the financial repercussions of it. I ask questions, not knowing why he’s involving me as I’m not involved with the finance side, nor was I aware of that particular project.
It’s as we’re polishing off the last cup of coffee he finally tells me, “There were a lot of female staff involved with that project, employees who were fired or resigned immediately after going on short trips with Warte that were classified as ‘business trips’.�
�
I’m just bringing the cup to my lips when my hand stops mid-air, gaze sharp. “What are you implying?”
His eyes not wavering, he just steadily says, “Nothing and everything.”
I breathe out a heavy sigh. “I’ll have to check the files. This will also mean following up with these women.” I put down my cup and lean heavily against the back of my chair, my good mood having evaporated. “If what you’re thinking is true and sexual harassment took place, Lucas is going to be very busy for the next few months.”
Oliver goes grim, mirroring my posture. “Check the files first, then we’ll take it from there.”
As we leave for the office, after I insist I pay my own share but Oliver smugly slides his card to the server, I feel like our delicate friendship we had ruined by sleeping together is stitching back up, one thread at a time.
It doesn’t seem like enough, but I’m willing to take what I can.
11
Oliver
I should have known that nothing with Lana is ever easy.
She’s pacing in my office, furious. “Harassment, blackmail, threats! What the hell is wrong with these people? The girls are still terrified. Two even moved!”
I’m leaning against the edge of desk, a cold numbness in my chest at the confirmation of what I had already suspected, tracking the agitated woman.
“Why were they not reported to you?” I ask.
Lana whirls around, her eyes glittering with a fury that makes her beauty almost incandescent, like an avenging goddess. Her glasses are on my table, and it doesn’t escape my notice she’s started to remove this one barrier between us whenever I’m around.
It speaks of a fragile trust I want to exploit, yet I have to tread lightly.
“Crawford hated me,” she spits out. “He tried to get me fired a few times, but the board wouldn’t let him since I came highly recommended. So, he started blocking my employee access, moving my office around until it was in a place where he would know exactly who had come to me. When employees would bring issues to me, that fat bastard would make sure their lives were made into a living hell! He even had someone monitoring all emails!”
“You can’t approach Warte yourself. Unless these women agree to a lawsuit, the only thing we have at the moment is to dismiss him on terms on incompetence.”
Lana throws her hands up in the air, frustrated, angry. “I have a good mind to go up to his office and tell him that I’m going to pit a lawsuit against him on the girls’ behalf.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” I say sharply, drawing myself up to my full height.
She glares, but doesn’t say anything.
I take a step toward her. “Lana, you are not getting in Warte’s way. The man is very well connected.”
“So am I,” she hisses, not backing down as I stalk her.
I can’t help the thrill that runs down my spine as she bares her teeth. My hand brushes an imaginary strand of hair from her face, making her eyes darken. Cupping my palm around her nape, my thumb rubbing her cheekbone, I say almost fondly, “You’re absolutely deadly. But I don’t want Warte to go after you. Let me handle him. After all, that is why I’m here.”
She doesn’t protest the way I’m touching her, and the silence that settles between us is heavy with meaning. Her eyes move to my lips. I want to kiss her, but I need her to make the first move.
The heady scent of her perfume, jasmine and wild berries, curls around me, and I want nothing more than to push her against the door, hike up her proper pencil skirt, and bury myself in her over and over again until she’s mindless and gasping and begging.
But I step back, releasing her. To my utter delight, she automatically takes a step forward before realizing what she’s doing and stopping in her tracks, a bewildered expression on her face.
The sound of the door opening is a welcome distraction. Lucas walks in, stopping to watch us with curious eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing!” Lana’s voice is high pitched, and I try not to roll my eyes.
Good job of trying not to look suspicious, sweetheart.
“O-kay then…” Lucas narrows his eyes. “I’m just here to get Oliver’s signature on a few items, then interrogate you about an incident that took place in your office a few days ago, along with asking you why you are staying in Oliver’s penthouse.” He flashes a smile in Lana’s direction, who glowers. “But I can do the rest later. Oliver, got a pen?”
Another knock on the door, and Valerie peeks in. “Miss Hill, you have a guest waiting for you in your office?”
I freeze from where I had been reaching for the pen. “Who is it?”
Two pairs of eyes turn to me, Lana still staring at Valerie, who clears her throat. “I don’t know. Her assistant just called to let me know.”
Lana takes a step toward the door, then she glances at me uneasily. I find myself saying, “I’ll be right there.”
Lana nods, relief flashing on her face. As she leaves, it occurs to me that she’s leaning on me. This wildly independent woman is looking at me for help, and she doesn’t even realize it.
Satisfaction and triumph sours through me. Lucas isn’t even trying to hide his curiosity. “What’s going on? Since when do Lana’s guests concern you?”
I grab the pen, then start signing the contracts. “It’s between me and her.”
When I glance up, Lucas’s gaze is serious. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Lana isn’t just anybody.”
“I’m handling it,” I say vaguely. To my annoyance, he trails after me when I make my way to Lana’s office.
* * *
Jealousy is a relatively new emotion for me.
But it burns in my gut like hellfire, along with a cold fury, making me want to mark my territory.
So, when I walk into Lana’s office and see her pressed against the wall, a man’s hands holding her wrists to her side as he kisses her, I don’t hesitate.
Chilling anger overtakes me as I see her try to struggle.
The entire scene is like a blur of movement where I stride over and yank the man off my woman before punching him in the face while snarling.
In the back of my mind, I understand this is going to land me in shit-ton of trouble, but my body is acting of its own accord.
Lana is at my back and Lucas is observing the situation, aghast, before his expression changes to one of pure fury when he glances at the woman I’m concealing behind me. And then I’m being shoved aside as Lana makes an inhumane sound and jumps on the man who’s trying to stand, her hands ready to claw his eyes out.
I have to contain my own temper as I catch her by her waist, dragging her back.
“You asshole,” she shrieks. “How fucking dare you?”
She’s thrashes in my grasp. I tighten my hold on her, recognizing the man as the one who had accompanied Lana’s brother.
“I’m going to kill you,” she howls, almost choking, her rage such a tangible thing I could almost close my fingers on it.
“Get him out of here,” I growl at Lucas, who has gripped the indignant man by the arm is and dragging him out.
“Back off.” The man tries to shrug Lucas off, but the lawyer is stronger. Grimly, Lucas says, “I don’t think so, pal.”
It’s only when he is hauled from the room and the door shuts behind him that Lana goes limp in my arms, her breathing fast.
Worried, I turn her over. Before I know it, she has seized me by the lapels of my suit and crushed my mouth under hers.
It’s a desperate kiss, tongues and teeth clashing against each other, and I’m responding almost immediately, the taste of this woman so addictive. She shoves me against the wall. I try to gentle the kiss for her sake, but she’s not having any of it, aggressively taking and taking and taking some more.
My head is reeling when she releases me and stumbles back, her breathing harsher than before. Then, she’s dropping her head against my chest, her hands clenched into my shirt, trying to breathe, and my hands ar
e rubbing her back.
“I’m sorry,” she finally says roughly. “I’m sorry. I wanted his taste out of my mouth.”
“No harm done,” I assure her, trying to smile, but more fury ignites at the image her words invoke. “Feel free to use me anytime.”
She makes a small sound that sounds like laughter, but it dissolves into gasps. It has me cupping her face, trying to calm her down. Her eyes are wild, filled with anger and disgust and a ripple of fear.
“He said he came to apologize,” she says, still holding onto my shirt. “For Fred’s behavior. And then he asked me out.” Her mouth opens as she tries to find the words. I move my hands to her waist. “I said ‘no’.
“He laughed, and said he wasn’t here to accept ‘no’ from me. I told him to leave. When he refused, I got up to open the door and kick him out, then he just grabbed me—”
I instantly cover her mouth with my hand, my tone dark. “Don’t tell me anything else if you don’t want me to go out there and kill him.”
Eyes widening, she nods.
I lower my hand, my blood boiling, and I want to mark this woman, claim her, and while I know I can’t do it, I stare at her mouth, then look at her eyes, my tone soft. “Can I?”
She understands.
Vulnerability in her features, she nods. I carefully bring her toward me, our lips meeting in what begins as a chaste kiss. However, the urgency builds as she twists in my arms and makes a moaning sound. I stroke my palms along her back, reaching her hair, where I grip a fistful of her dark hair in a dominant hold, pulling our faces apart.
She is flushed with desire. Her lips tremble as she gazes at me, not protesting as I hold her in place by her hair.
When I tighten my hold almost painfully, her eyes darken.
Interesting.
I swoop in. This time, the kiss is filthy with open mouths, stabbing tongues, and a hunger we’re both trying to satiate. Her moans are making me hard. I kiss her desperately, demanding everything and then taking it. As I lick inside her mouth, making her go limp in my arms, she bites my lower lip in retaliation.
Resisting the Brit Page 9
