Systematic Seduction

by Ravenna Tate

  P.S. I really did have a fabulous time. I’m kidding about the burger giving me heartburn. Can’t wait to see you again.

  Oliver, The Undiscovered Playwright of SouthCentral

  How could any woman resist such a man?

  Monday morning at work, he kept coming to her office with so many bullshit excuses that she was certain everyone on her team and most of the others noticed. Marisol had the office next to hers, and poked her head in before lunch.

  “You have plans today?”

  “You mean for lunch? No.”

  “He’s not taking you to some fancy restaurant? You won’t come back to work slightly drunk about three, then leave a half hour later with him, giggling the entire time?”

  Blair grinned. “Sounds like you’ve been down that road before.”

  She laughed. “Not me. He’s not my type.”

  “Really? What’s wrong with him? What do you all know that I’ve missed?”

  Marisol perched on Blair’s desk. “Nothing’s wrong with him, if you don’t mind used goods.”

  “Ouch.”

  “You know what I mean. He’s been around the block more than a few times.”

  “Haven’t we all?”

  She frowned slightly. “Just be careful, hon. All right? You know I worry about you. You don’t go out a lot. It’s easy to get swept along by someone larger than life like him. He’s very charming, very handsome, and very wealthy. But don’t let him break your heart.”

  Blair forced her expression to remain neutral. She was quite practiced at that. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

  Marisol rose and walked toward the door. “It’s Roy’s turn to get sandwiches. You want one?”

  “I’ll take tuna salad.”

  “Okay.”

  After Marisol left, Blair closed her door so she could think. She knew Oliver’s reputation. Everyone did. There were several women still working for him that he’d dated. This wasn’t a shock to her, but hearing Marisol tease her brought reality crashing down.

  Is that what she was now? His flavor of the month? That was exactly what she had not wanted to become.

  “Most of the women I date only go out with me because of that reason. Because they know we’ll have our picture taken, and they’ll get their faces and names on the tabloid websites, linked with mine. They go out with me because I’m stinking rich and they think I’ll take care of them for life. They go out with me because they want expensive things. I can count the number who have cared about me—the person inside—on one hand.”

  Wonderful words. She had no reason to doubt them. He wouldn’t feed her a line like that because he knew how easy it would be to catch him in a lie, or discover he’d said the same thing to everyone in this building he’d ever dated.

  “That’s why I’ve wanted to go out with you for two years. You’re not like that. You’re genuine and unaffected. Plus you’re one of the most intelligent women I’ve ever met and I admire that. It attracts me to you, as much as your looks do. More, in fact, because I know I can carry on a conversation with you that has nothing to do with designer clothes or rare gems. I know you won’t be glancing around to find the paparazzi waiting to snap a picture.”

  Those words told her all she needed to know. He liked her because she was different. Maybe he was ready for that? He was over forty now. Perhaps he was tired of dating around? She shouldn’t let things Marisol or the others said get to her. She had a right to make up her own mind about Oliver, as much as he had a right to make up his mind about her. Neither one should have to take into account what others said or thought about the situation.

  Hadn’t he said it didn’t matter if she wasn’t ready to talk about her past? That he would be there when and if she was? Shouldn’t she give him the same considerations where his past was concerned? She didn’t need to dwell on the other women. He wasn’t dating anyone else but her right now. She only needed to enjoy herself for once with a man who was romantic enough to write her a silly play and give her flowers.

  Oliver was charming and confident, not to mention gorgeous. He wouldn’t try to force her to have sex with his friends, he didn’t use drugs, he’d never committed a felony, and he wouldn’t get drunk and try to hurt her.

  She hugged herself as her heart raced. No! Not this time. No panic attacks today. The memories were not allowed to control her.

  A soft knock on the door made her jump. She rose and opened it, smiling at Oliver. He held out her sandwich, one of his own, and two bottles of iced tea. “Roy said you wanted tuna salad. May I join you for lunch?”

  “I would love that.”

  She closed the door behind him. Let the others talk. They would anyway, so she might as well make it easier for them to find something to say.

  ****

  Blair didn’t have one episode of overwhelming memories or panic attacks the entire week. Oliver ate lunch with her every day, and stopped by her office or texted her often. On Thursday afternoon, almost as soon as she arrived home from work, a package was delivered to her apartment with something in it she could hardly believe existed underground. Where had he found it?

  It was a bound script of “The Flick”, and she knew enough about scripts and plays to know it wasn’t a fake. As she paged through the beginning, a text came through on her phone.

  I received a notification your package was delivered. What do you think of it?

  She called him. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have via text. “Where on earth did you find this?”

  “I didn’t. One of Addison’s teams did. He’s had it for a while. It was one of those things that nobody had paid them to find, but they came across it while looking for something else. Because his team members recognized how rare such a thing was, they brought it when them. He has several offices in one building filled with treasures like this.”

  “But … I mean…”

  “When you mentioned the play, I emailed and asked him if he’d ever run across anything related to it. He found the script and sent it over here Monday morning.”

  He spoke so matter-of-factly, as if he lavished women with rare and unusual gifts everyday. Maybe he did, but to her, this was so special and thoughtful, she didn’t have words.

  “Oliver, seriously, I don’t know what to say. Thank you isn’t enough. My goodness. You’re spoiling me rotten.”

  “I like to spoil you rotten.”

  His voice was so soft and tender it took her by surprise. “Did you read it before you sent it to me?”

  “No. I want to enjoy it for the first time with you next to me.”

  Oh, he was getting laid tomorrow. No way could she resist him now. She’d never been treated like this. Not even close. He was a keeper.

  Chapter Seven

  Oliver popped into her office Friday just before noon, and asked if she wanted to have lunch outside the building and then take the rest of the afternoon off. Blair nearly laughed out loud as she remembered what Marisol had joked about Monday morning. “That sounds wonderful.”

  They ate at the same deli around the corner where they went out for their sandwiches nearly every day. It was crowded and noisy, but Blair didn’t mind. She loved being seen outside the office with Oliver, and she didn’t even mind people giving them curious looks. Briefly, she wondered how many other women he’d had lunch with here over the years, but then she pushed those thoughts away. It didn’t matter. She was here with him now, and she was going to enjoy herself.

  After they ate, they walked back to her apartment to retrieve her script. She told Oliver she hoped some of the cast would sign it. Once she had it, they walked into the center of town where vendors had booths set up, and Oliver stopped to admire a necklace made with real rubies and topaz.

  He held it up to her. “This would look perfect with your coloring.”

  She agreed. It was stunning, and Blair asked the woman behind the booth where she’d found the gems because she had quite a large collection of jewelry that was real.

&nbs
p; “I brought a lot of them with me when I moved underground, but some of them I paid to have brought here. Do you know a company called Carlyle Imports?”

  Blair grinned at Oliver. “Yeah, I do.”

  The woman frowned slightly, then her eyes widened as she recognized Oliver. “Oh. I’ve seen your picture online. Addison Carlyle is one of those Weathermen, and so are you.”

  Oliver extended his hand. “Oliver Fairchild. Nice to meet you.”

  The woman blushed like crazy as she chatted away with Oliver like she’d known him forever. To his credit, Blair didn’t see him do or say anything she could interpret as flirting, but the encounter did remind her she was out with one of the most sought after men in the entire country. Was she truly ready for this? She’d spent years avoiding all men, and now in the past week she and Oliver had somehow become an item.

  He insisted on buying her the necklace, and Blair wasn’t sure whether that was because the woman had talked his ear off, laughing at everything he said and touching his arm every few seconds, or because he had seen how much Blair truly loved the piece. It was ridiculously expensive, and she imagined that was because this woman had paid Addison Carlyle a hefty price for finding all those gems.

  Blair thanked Oliver graciously, but as soon as they were out of earshot, she asked him why he had bought the necklace.

  He frowned. “Because you liked it.”

  “Not because she was flirting with you?”

  Oliver laughed. “No, that’s not the reason.” He cupped her face and kissed her, tongue and all, right there in the middle of the walkway, with all those booths and people on both sides. When he released her mouth she didn’t dare glance around, but swore she could feel hundreds of eyes watching them.

  He leaned close, and his breath was warm and sweet on her face. “Now you listen to me, Blair Adams. I like you. A lot. And I like spending my money on people I like. So you might as well get used to this. Got it?”

  “Got it. Thank you. The necklace really is stunning.”

  “I only wish she had matching earrings. I like things in sets.”

  Of course you do. “Engineers are like that.”

  “Yes, we are.” He stroked her face gently, sending a shiver down her spine. “Except about our women. We only need one. The right one.”

  Blair’s pulse raced. Was she the right one for Oliver? She wanted to ask, but the words would not come out. They locked gazes for a few more seconds, and then he smiled and they continued walking.

  They arrived at the theater early, but Oliver said he didn’t mind because that would give them a chance to go backstage before the play started. She’d never simply waltzed in and gone backstage as if she had a right to do so, and she stood there with her mouth open as Oliver chatted with everyone like they were old friends.

  A few of the cast members were already there, as well as the director, and a bubbly couple who had funded most of the production. They all recognized Oliver from his presence online, and when he presented the script for them to sign, they were amazed by it and asked all kinds of questions about where it had been and how he’d acquired it.

  Blair stood silent, watching this exchange, marveling at the ease with which this man engaged strangers in lively conversation. If it hadn’t been for the story he’d told her about huddling inside that dark, empty building, with no food or water, waiting for flood waters to recede, she’d have been tempted to assume everything in his life had come easily and he’d never had a day’s worry.

  It also made her realize that while he may never have gone through what she had experienced, he had still overcome extreme adversity and come out the other side to lead a fulfilling, productive life. That meant she could do the same. And it meant he had a right to know what was in her past she’d worked hard to keep secret.

  How could she make love to this man without first telling him everything? It wouldn’t be fair. She’d talk to him after the play, when she was fairly certain they’d end up back at his apartment. She had to tell him, because the thought now of not making love to him wasn’t something she cared to entertain, even for a brief moment. He’d captivated her—all of her—and she had to have him.

  ****

  Oliver beamed as he handed Blair the script. All but a few of the cast members who had not yet arrived had signed it, as had the director and the couple who had funded this production. He and Blair had seats in the front row, and because the media was covering this play, they’d had their picture taken twice already.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice a bit hesitant. “I don’t know what to say.”

  He leaned close. “Just say you’re happy. That’s all I care about.”

  “I am happy. I’m overwhelmed, but happy.” She took a deep breath. He felt it rather than saw or heard it, and a sliver of fear ran down his spine. Had he blown it already? But how? “I need to tell you a few things later.”

  His heart stopped. “Like what?”

  She shook her head. “Not here. Not now. After the play.”

  Well, all right. That’ll make me enjoy it better. He chided himself for thinking like that. Whatever it was, it probably had nothing to do with the way he’d treated her this week. Maybe she was finally going to open up about her panic attacks? It wasn’t like him to be so self-centered. He really had it bad for this woman, and it was making him paranoid.

  He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Then we’ll talk later. Whatever it is, if I can help, all you have to do is ask.” The grateful look she shot him put his mind at ease. He was right. This wasn’t about them.

  The play was incredible. Oliver was very impressed with the acting, and thought the concept clever and poignant. He kept sneaking glances at Blair to find her captivated. Doubt tried to creep in as he imagined what she needed to tell him later, and he tried to keep it at bay. Intellectually, he knew this wasn’t about him. They’d only spent a week together. It had to be about her past.

  Once more, he realized he was already smitten. He had to have this girl. No matter what she told him, he would find a way to make this work because he’d never met anyone like her. Now that he’d spent time with her outside of work on actual dates, and kissed her, there was no going back. He would have her, no matter what. She was his, and that was that.

  The cast took five curtain calls, and Oliver’s hands hurt from clapping by the time they were finally done. The media were still snapping pictures when Blair smiled up at him, her face filled with joy, and then hugged him tightly.

  His damn dick sprang to attention, and he hoped like hell they made it outside without anyone catching a photo of the bulge in his crotch. That would make a great online picture. He could see the headline now—Billionaire shows his obvious appreciation for latest girlfriend and the play!

  Once they were outdoors, he took Blair’s hand and led her down back streets and alleys until he was certain no one had followed them. He wanted to grab a quick dinner and some privacy.

  They passed a pizza place, and she suggested they take one back to his apartment. Oliver had been wondering how he was going to ask her to come to his place without sounding insensitive to the fact she’d said she wanted to talk to him, so he was grateful she’d made the suggestion.

  They ordered pizza and garlic bread, then chatted about the play while they waited for it. Once it was ready, they took it back to his apartment, and he was certain no one had followed them.

  She whistled softly as he gave her a quick tour of his place. “Oliver, this is incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You could fit half my building in here.”

  “It’s a lot of space, but I wanted something that made me feel as if I was in a house, not simply a box inside a high rise.”

  “You don’t have to justify it to me. I’d look for the same thing if I could afford it.”

  He bit his tongue to stop himself from suggesting she could move in tonight if she wanted. Too much, too soon.

 
They returned to the kitchen, and she sat next to him at the counter while they ate their pizza and garlic bread. “Here we go again,” she said. “Only instead of onions and peppers, this time it’ll be garlic and sausage.”

  He laughed. “At least we’re consistent.” Oliver was desperate to find out what she wanted to tell him, but he didn’t want to spoil the mood.

  As if reading his mind, she drank the rest of her water and then cleared her throat. “There are some things I need to tell you before we … well, before we do what I assume we’re going to do later.”

  “I have no expectations about tonight.” It was right to say so, although he prayed they would make love. He wanted her so badly, but what was most important was her happiness, and that she felt safe with him.

  “I know you don’t, and I can’t tell you how much that means to me, but the truth is that I do want to make love to you, Oliver. I can’t, though, without telling you this first. I just hope you won’t change your mind once you hear it.”

  Whoa. What the hell had someone done to her? “Blair, I’m here to listen, whatever it is. And I won’t change my mind about you. Nothing could make me do that.”

  The look she gave him tore him apart. It was a combination of hope and uncertainty. He took her hand, not surprised to find it cool. “Come on. Let’s go get comfortable so we can talk.”

  Cleaning up the remnants of dinner could wait.

  Chapter Eight

  Blair was more afraid right now than she’d been at twelve, the first time one of her mother’s boyfriends tried to crawl into bed with her. But this was Oliver, not some drunk stranger her mother had brought home.

  She’d known this man for seven years, and she was here with him, in this ridiculously lavish and expensive apartment. They’d eaten pizza, and now they sat side by side on the sofa. The expression on his face showed interest. He really wanted to hear this, even though he had no clue what it was. How could any woman not fall head over heels in love a man this charming and patient?

  “Okay.” She shifted slightly so she was facing him, and then tucked her legs underneath her body. “I guess starting at the beginning would be best.”