“Gross.” Even without being able to see her, Olivia knew Cassie was rolling her eyes. “Enough about my boring life, tell me about this place you’re living in. What’s it like?”
“Very . . . modern. And cold. At least what I’ve seen so far, which is pretty much only the front door and the living room.”
“No way, really? I’d have thought you would have gone all Nancy Drew on the place.”
“Some big dude, who I’m fairly sure is packing a gun, let me in. Didn’t want to wander too far and end up getting myself shot.”
“Doubt that.”
“Hey, guns in homes are twenty-two times more likely to be involved in accidental shootings.”
“Have you been watching Jim Jefferies again?”
Olivia smiled. “No, but that sounds like an excellent idea.” Although irreverent and crass, Jefferies’ stand-up never failed to make her laugh. And since there was little doubt his humor would drive Cole absolutely batshit, firing up his latest Netflix special on the flat screen would be a win-win for the night. Olivia glanced around the room for a television before deciding it probably lowered from the ceiling like something out of the Starship Enterprise.
“Promise me you’ll at least go check out the kitchen.” Olivia could hear the envy in Cassie’s voice. Neither one of them cared too much about money, but for Cassie cash meant cooking. It had taken her nearly a year to save up for the stand mixer she’d had her eye on, and Olivia knew for a fact she bought the occasional lottery ticket in the hopes of designing her dream kitchen.
“I will,” Olivia said. “And who knows, maybe I’ll find a giant stash of that Le Creuset stuff you like so much and stick one in my purse.”
Cassie laughed. “No cookware larceny on my account, please. But say the word and I’ll be glad to come over and bake up a big mess.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Olivia hung up the phone and headed off to find a glass of water and to follow through on her promise to fully investigate the culinary situation. After several wrong turns—how big was this place anyway?—she finally found the hallway that lead to the kitchen.
When she walked through the doorway, she came to an abrupt stop. Thanks to Cassie, she’d seen more than her fair share of cooking shows, but Cole’s kitchen put them all to shame. Modern cabinets with black lacquered doors spanned the length of two walls, while an island with a marble slab top sat in the middle beneath brightly colored blown glass lights. The whole place looked like it had been plucked straight out of a luxury home magazine, but what really left her awestruck was the array of professional-grade appliances. Cole’s kitchen could have easily run any number of Rush Street eateries.
Olivia whistled through her teeth. Cassie was going to lose her freaking mind. There was a twelve-burner cooktop—the kind with the bright red knobs—a convection oven, an indoor grill, an espresso maker to rival the one at Cole’s beloved Starbucks, and two dishwashers. And as if the double door, stainless steel Subzero the size of a small car wasn’t enough, there was also a full-height, glass door beverage fridge with enough bottled water to stock a 7-11. Evian, Fiji, Voss, VEEN . . . the list went on and on. And that was just the still water. From the looks of it, Cole could have eased the California drought from his kitchen alone. And she didn’t even want to think about where all that plastic would end up. She’d once read a study that estimated U.S. landfills to be overflowing with two million tons of discarded water bottles, a statistic made all the more believable by the outlandish display in front of her.
In protest, Olivia grabbed a glass from one of the cabinets and filled it from the tap before making her way back to the main room. Cole was standing in the entryway flipping through a stack of mail someone had left on a table by the door. Olivia took advantage of the unguarded moment, watching him with a curious eye. His light blue tie had been tugged loose and his hair was in a total disarray. Maybe it was the unruly mane, but something about him reminded her of the small child from the photos, and for a fleeting moment she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him.
But then he looked up and the facade of an innocent boy fell away, leaving nothing but the scowl of a hardened man.
“By all means, make yourself at home,” he said as he sauntered into the room. The snide tone of his voice instantly negated any compassion she’d been feeling for the man. He might have been a cute kid, but that wasn’t the person standing in front of her.
The sight of his new roommate had Cole fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn’t accustomed to sharing his home with anyone, much less someone wearing a SpongeBob T-shirt.
“Your butler let me in.” She set her glass of water on the table next to her laptop. “Who has a butler anyways? What are you, Bruce Wayne or something?”
“Jonathan is not my butler.”
“Either way, you’re late.”
“Nagging wife? Guess I should have expected that given our courtship.”
“Funny.” She smirked. “But if you’re going to summon someone to your house, you could at least have the decency to be there when they arrive.”
“Disappointed I didn’t carry you across the threshold?”
“Hardly. Although common courtesy would be nice.” Her gaze dropped to the garment bags draped over his arm. “But I guess you had a Macy’s coupon burning a hole in your pocket.”
“First of all, I’ve never used a coupon in my life. Second, I’ve never been to Macy’s.” He paused as a long-forgotten memory surfaced at the corner of his mind, then corrected himself. “Once, but it was Marshall Field’s then.”
“Let me guess, stepped in to get out of the rain?”
Cole frowned. “If you must know, my mother took me to see Santa Claus and eat chicken pot pies under the giant tree in the Walnut Room.”
Olivia’s expression turned from smug to contrite. He should have been used to it by now, the woman had an uncanny knack for opening her mouth and inserting both feet, which for the first time he realized were bare. What was it about women and shoes? They couldn’t buy enough of them, yet never seemed to have them on.
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” she said in what was clearly an attempt to change the subject. “What’s with the shop-a-thon?”
“They’re for you.”
She stilled. “You went shopping for me?”
“No. My assistant went shopping. And believe me, this is as much for me as it is for you.”
“I swear, Cole, if you sent your assistant out to buy some kinky fetish costume—”
“If you will shut up for two minutes, I can explain.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and pressed her lips together.
“Hmm, progress,” he murmured. His gaze dropped to her chest where her new pose had pushed her tits together in what his cock saw as a goddamn invitation. Down boy, he thought, not worth the aggravation.
After a quick adjustment, Cole strolled over to the dining room table and laid the garment bags across the top. Olivia waited impatiently, tapping her foot while he slowly and methodically took his dark suit coat off and draped it over the back of one of the chairs. When he finally spoke, his tone was grave. “My grandmother wants to meet you.”
She exhaled a sigh of relief. “Jesus, is that all? From the look on your face I was expecting something really bad.”
Cole knew from experience that Olivia could go toe to toe with an asshole like him. But in this case, she had no idea what she was up against. “It would be a serious mistake to underestimate my grandmother. That’s when she’s at her most lethal.”
“Look, I know Granny Dearest just put you through one hell of a legal battle and that had to have taken its toll on your relationship, but how bad could it be to break bread with a little old lady?”
“For starters, don’t ever refer to her as old.” He raised a brow. “Then again, the ensuing stroke would solve all our problems.”
“I’m sure it will be fine. We can have tea or something. That’s the sort of thing you
rich folks do, right? Tea with little sandwiches that have the crusts cut off?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Sure it is. I’ll be on my best behavior. I’ll sit there quietly and sip tea. I’ll keep my elbows off the table and stick my pinky out. And if you say please, I’ll even manage to smile.”
Cole laughed out loud. “It would almost be worth setting up a second meeting just to witness that because for the life of me I can’t picture you quietly doing anything.” He gazed down at her, and his voice lowered intimately. “Unless of course you were gagged.” The image of Olivia’s smart mouth quieted by a bright red ball gag was making his efforts to keep his dick under control damn near impossible. Time to redirect. “Assuming of course you’re not banned from the Drake for staging some sort of protest. Are you on any lists I should know about?”
“You know what, forget it. Tell your grandmother thanks but no thanks. One Grant in my life is one too many. I don’t need another.” She turned to leave the room, but Cole was tight on her heels.
“No isn’t an option, Olivia.”
She looked down to where his hand held her arm just above the elbow and arched her brow. He released his hold on her, but the intensity of his gaze never faltered.
“Meredith isn’t your typical grandmother. The only maternal instinct the woman ever had was towards money.”
“I’m familiar with the greedy corporate types,” she said, fixing him with a pointed stare.
“This isn’t some battle over endangered wetlands. This is personal. She’s spent her entire life manipulating people to get what she wants. Threats, bribes, intimidation. Whatever it takes. Nothing is off limits.”
“Sounds like she’s a real bitch.”
A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Cole’s lips. “Indeed.” He grew somber once more. “Her back is against the wall now, which is when she’s her most dangerous. I know how she operates. She finds the weak spot and then she attacks like a viper in pearls.”
“Nice image.”
“There won’t be anything nice about it. Make no mistake, you are the weak spot, Olivia. This marriage of ours is the only thing keeping my grandmother from getting what she wants. She’s going to try to take us down and she’s going to use every available resource to do it.”
“You really think she’d try to disgrace her own grandson just to have more money? At a certain point aren’t there enough millions to go around?”
“Billions,” he corrected matter-of-factly.
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Right, I keep forgetting you’re not the average rich guy. But that goes even more to my point.”
“It’s not about the money, although make no mistake, that’s a close second. It’s the power it brings. The control. And it’s the family name on top of the building. The Grant legacy means more to her than any one of its members. Collateral damage.”
“Fine.” Olivia shoulders sagged. “What do I need to do?”
“As I already said, my grandmother wants to meet you.”
“What, to like size me up, see if I’m worthy?”
“She already knows you’re not worthy.”
Her mouth popped open.
“But I wouldn’t take it too personally,” Cole quickly added. He needed Olivia’s head in the game, not out for revenge. “In her opinion, no one would be. And as for sizing you up, I’m sure she’s already had a file put together that tells her everything from what pre-school you attended to what you had for breakfast yesterday.”
“What does my oatmeal and granola have to do with anything?”
“Nothing. That’s just due diligence.”
“You people really like your business references.”
“She wants to watch how we interact,” he said, ignoring her comment. “And she wants to do it in a very public arena.”
“To see if we can pull it off?”
“Exactly.”
“When?”
“Saturday.”
Olivia’s eyes grew wide. “That’s in four days.”
“I’m aware.”
“Just tell her we’re busy.”
“Impossible. Saturday is the annual gala hosted by the Grant Foundation. Proceeds from the event fund the many charities we oversee. Everyone who is anyone in the city will be there, as will most of the press.”
“And skipping it this year isn’t an option?”
He shook his head. “I’ve never missed one. Doing so now would be a major red flag.”
“Okay, so we get dressed up, drink free booze, and pretend to like each other.” She flashed him an overly sweet smile. “Two out of three won’t be so bad.”
“It’s black tie optional,” Cole said, choosing to ignore her dig. “But most will be in formal attire.” He turned back to the glass table and unzipped one of the bags. “Which is why I asked my assistant to pick these up.”
“I do own nice clothes, you know.”
“Lack of evidence to that notwithstanding, the gala has a theme. This year it’s ‘A Night in Casablanca.’ So while I’m sure you could scrounge up something nicer than what you wore say, to our wedding, I doubt you have anything appropriate for the 1940’s.”
“How did you even know what size to get?”
His lips curved into a lascivious grin. “I did a bit of hands-on research while we were in Vegas. Size six if I’m not mistaken. And,” he narrowed his eyes on her breasts. “34B.”
Olivia straightened. “C, thank you very much.”
He chuckled. “If you say so.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Maybe. But I’m an asshole bearing gifts. My assistant has impeccable taste. I’m sure one of these will be to your liking.” His gaze shifted from the stack of garment bags to the laptop that sat open beside them.
Olivia quickly moved to close the screen.
He raised a suspicious brow. “Worried I’ll discover all your corporate secrets?”
“We’re not exactly on the same team, Cole.”
“Well, for now at least we’ve called a truce. I might be a bastard, but my word is my bond. I meant what I said in Vegas, Olivia. I’ll take the necessary steps to protect those little snot-nose rats.”
“Bats” she corrected.
“Rats with wings,” he countered.
“I know you think the world revolves around Coleman Grant, so it might surprise you to know you are not the only corporation I lobby. How do I know you won’t tip off your rich buddies at the next meeting of Moguls Against Humanity?”
A deep laugh vibrated in the back of his throat. “Is that what you think the one percent does, get together to play squash and swap plans for . . . what did you call it? Ah yes, global destruction.”
She glared at him. “Screw you and your self-righteous attitude. I’m right, and I have the facts to back it up.”
Judging by the look on her face, Cole was about to hear each and every one. Great.
“The use and damage of the environment has reached an unprecedented level in terms of pollution and the rapid loss of freshwater, fish, and fertile soil. And it’s people like you who have gotten us in this crisis. According to a recent United Nations study, the world’s biggest companies would lose more than one-third of their profits if they were held financially accountable for the pollution and damage to the natural environment they’ve directly caused.”
“As fascinating as that Wikipedia monologue was, let’s take a step back, shall we? How many other CEOs have you been stalking? And do you always sleep with them if things aren’t going your way?”
Her cheeks flamed. “Did you really just imply I’d trade in sexual favors? Unless . . .” Her expression shifted from indignation to arrogance. “You’re jealous!”
Cole snorted. “Hardly.”
“Must drive you crazy thinking you’re not so special.”
“On the contrary. Just wondering if I should see about some penicillin.”
“Oh, you’re one to talk. Googling your name brings up the g
oddamn Victoria’s Secret catalog.”
His brows shot up. “So you’ve googled me?”
“Due diligence.” She smirked at him, then pressed on. “Tell me, exactly how many supermodels have been up here?” Her gaze shifted to the entryway. “Gotta admit, I’m kind of surprised you don’t have a revolving door. Then again, it was an express elevator.”
He shook his head. “You’re just pissed that I have more sex than you do.”
“Had,” she corrected.
“Come again?”
“Not anytime soon.”
His eyes narrowed. “What the fuck are you talking about?
“Fidelity. I’m sure it’s a foreign concept to you, but it was one of your terms, remember? I believe you referred to it as ‘taking myself off the market.’”
Cole’s entire body stiffened. “That was meant for you, not me.”
“Fake marriage or not, same rules apply.” She leveled her stare. “To both of us.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
Her chin tilted up. “Does it look like I’m joking?”
He moved a step closer. “You’re deluded.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“You’re a bitch.”
They were only inches apart. Close enough for him to hear her breath coming quick and shallow and to see the fire flash through her eyes. But it was more than rage he saw burning in her hazel eyes; it was hunger.
“You’re a—”
He was on her before she could hurl the next insult. In a flash of movement, he caught her around the waist, hauling her against him. Her mouth fell open on a gasp, and he took full advantage, his lips finding hers and his tongue filling her with a deep, searing stroke.
“You drive me fucking crazy,” he growled before once again claiming her mouth in an unforgiving kiss.
A battle he was destined to lose waged inside him. He’d sworn to himself that what happened in Vegas was nothing more than a drunken lapse in judgment. A one-time event never to be repeated. But even though a part of him already knew he’d regret it later, all he could think about was how much he wanted her.
“Really?” she rasped. “’Cause I don’t give you a second thought.”
Black Tie Optional (Wild Wedding Series Book 1) Page 10
