by Tribue,Alice
His nostrils flare, but he doesn’t argue. He can’t because he knows I’m right. He knows that not once did he stand up for me the way I would have stood up for him had the roles been reversed. He knows that I would have been more than happy to share the reins of the company with him, that success and power were never as important to me as they were to him. Our rivalry and competition were not one that I created. Most importantly, he knows that our father’s approval was not something that I lived to get or keep because I’ve always known they came with conditions that I wasn’t willing to follow.
“This is getting us nowhere.” He stands up straight, his eyes locked on mine. He’s trying to gain control of the situation, but I’m not about to fall in line just to make him feel better.
“Seems like you and I are pros at getting nowhere with each other.” I do not attempt to hide the contempt in my tone. I’m through with hiding what I really think and feel around the members of my dysfunctional family.
“Oliver.” He says my name on a defeated sigh, running a hand through his now disheveled hair.
“I need you to go,” I say, suddenly feeling just as frustrated as he looks. “I have to get to Mom.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Try to convince her to get the fuck out of there and leave that bastard for once and for all.”
“Where would she go?”
“She had money before she met our father, you know? She’s not exactly poor. She’ll be just fine without him, and I’ll help her.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Excuse me?” I question wide-eyed. Now, I’m the one who’s in disbelief.
“I’m coming with you. She’ll be more likely to leave if we both suggest it.”
“You’re actually advocating for her to leave Dad?”
“You might think I’m an asshole, and you’re probably right, but this is our mother. Do you really think I’d be okay with knowing that she’s being abused?”
“Well, that’s good to hear, but you understand that if Dad finds out, you’re putting your career in jeopardy,” I tell him because if he thinks he can cross our father and come out unscathed, he’s sadly mistaken.
“I know you think my career means everything to me, and maybe that’s how it seems, but you’re wrong.”
I’d like to believe there’s more to him than what he’s shown me. Is it possible that he’s not quite as bad as I thought he was?
“All right, we’ll go get Mom. Get her out of the house, and bring her back here. Once she’s out of there, maybe she’ll be more willing to listen to us.”
“Let’s do it.”
“I’m going to tell Riley I’m leaving then we’ll go.”
He gives me a nod, and I turn away heading to my bedroom so that I can see to Riley, but I stop when I hear Jacob speak again.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and at the sound of his unexpected apology, I turn back to him. “I’m sorry that I was so self-involved that I missed what was happening with you and especially with Mom. Mostly, I’m sorry that my obliviousness made you hate me.”
“I’ve never hated you,” I say before turning and walking away. I’m sure I could say more to put his mind at ease, but this is the best that I can give him right now.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
RILEY
I was still busy looking through bags of clothes, makeup, toiletries, and accessories when Oliver snuck up behind me. He wrapped his hands around my waist, pulled me back against his chest, and gently kissed my neck. Very unexpected. He told me to make myself at home while he went with his brother to check on his mom. I’d told him that I wanted to go with him, but he said it was something that he needed to do with his brother and that I would meet his mother when he got back. I agreed, and when I did, he just gave me a sexy smile and then he kissed me. He kissed me the way a man kisses a woman that he’s taken with, the way a man would kiss a woman that was his. His fingers gripped my waist, keeping me tethered to him, and I couldn’t stop myself from melting into him, from wrapping my arms around his neck and taking everything he was giving me.
Oliver is a walking contradiction, coercing me into this strange relationship with him and then treating me as if I mean something more. It’s confusing, and it doesn’t help that I’ve developed feelings for him. It doesn’t help that I want him to be that something more for me. But I don’t think Oliver wants the same thing. I don’t think he wants that from anyone, and when I consider the obviously tumultuous relationship of his parents, I can’t say that I blame him. The best thing for me right now would be to end this … whatever it is, as soon as possible, to minimize the damage to my heart.
I was starving after perusing through the bags of unnecessary items Oliver had his assistant purchase for me. I made my way to the kitchen to see if there was anything at all edible, and upon opening the refrigerator, I realized that his assistant must have also had food delivered. I decide to make dinner because I know Oliver and his brother will be coming back, and hopefully, their mother will be with them. The last thing they need to worry about is dinner, so I pull the ingredients for a simple Chicken Francaise dish and begin to cook. I think about how, when my dad was sick and Mom was busy working and taking Dad to his doctor’s appointments, I would often cook dinner in order to make things easier on them. I began to experiment with recipes that I’d find on the internet, and before long, I found that not only was I actually pretty good at cooking, but I really enjoyed it as well. It became a way for me to take my mind off what was happening in my life, how my dad’s health was failing him, and how my mom was overextending herself in order to make ends meet.
“Who are you?” A man’s voice breaks me out of my thoughts and startles me. I let out a yelp, drop the knife that I was holding onto the counter, and look up. I’m confronted with an older man, handsome with salt and pepper hair, and it doesn’t take me long to realize he’s Oliver’s father. I can easily see the resemblance. He stands statue-like at the entrance of the kitchen staring at me as if I’m his sworn enemy.
“I’m Riley. I’m a friend of Oliver’s.”
He scoffs at my introduction, looking vacantly around the room before casting a second glance at me.
“Where is he?”
“He said he wanted to check in at his office,” I lie. I don’t think it’s a great idea for me to tell him that his two sons are currently trying to convince his wife to leave him.
“He’s actually decided to work for a change?” he questions smugly. I take a step toward him, really looking at him. I don’t like what I see; he’s arrogant, standoffish, and mean. Everything I thought Oliver was before I actually took the time to get to know him. I can see why he tries to portray himself that way—it’s all he knows. It’s who his father showed him to be, but it’s not who he really is. Even if he doesn’t believe it himself.
“You know he’s actually very good at what he does?”
“Is he now?” he says with a grin. I can see I’ve piqued his interest now. He’s not used to people coming back at him or countering his opinions. The fact that I’ve said something contrary to what he believes to be true has probably intrigued him. “And how would you know this?”
“Because I’ve seen it,” I say a little too haughtily. I’m likely inviting his ire, but someone needs to tell him that he’s wrong about Oliver, and it’s clear that his brother is not the one who’s going to do it. “He’s doing an amazing job in Savannah.”
“If you think finishing a job past schedule and over budget is good, then yes, I’m sure he’s doing amazing things in Savannah.”
“Maybe if you knew everything that went into doing what he does, you’d understand that the quality would suffer if he didn’t do things the right way. Even if that means a delay in the schedule.”
“Well. It seems my son’s picked a live one to occupy his time. Maybe you’re the reason his work has been delayed,” he drawls out, and I honestly want to grab hold of his shoulders and knee him where I kno
w it would hurt the most.
“You don’t know anything about me; in fact, I don’t think you know anything about your son, either.”
“I’ll tell you what I do know. What I know is that my son is engaged to be married.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I tell him, feeling winded by his words. He’s just trying to hurt me, even though it shouldn’t hurt, even though I shouldn’t care if it’s true. I do, though; I can feel the pain start to creep into the recesses of my heart just at the thought of Oliver being engaged.
“No. What’s ridiculous is for you to think that my son would be interested in someone who obviously has no class or tact. He’s just using you, getting it out of his system before he marries Stephanie.”
I turn away from him not wanting him to see how affected I am by what he’s telling me. He knows, though; he knows, and wastes no time in digging the knife in.
“She’s educated, she’s rich, she comes from a good family, and she is stunningly beautiful. You could never even begin to compete with her.”
His words are painful to hear. What hurts the most is knowing that I was completely wrong about Oliver. I head back into the kitchen and lower the heat on the stove, not wanting to burn the food. Taking a deep breath, I try to regain my composure, and only when I’m sure that I won’t cry, I turn back to him.
“Would you like me to tell Oliver you stopped by?” I ask blandly. I’m sure he can hear the defeat in my voice. He knows he’s won.
“Don’t bother. Lovely to meet you, Riley, I trust we won’t meet again in the future,” he says before turning and walking away with his head held high and dignity intact, even though he’s practically obliterated me.
Oliver’s engaged. He’s getting married, and of course, he is, why wouldn’t he be? He’s perfect. He’s rich and handsome and gentle when he wants to be, and of course, he would find someone equally perfect to settle down with. Even though I always knew he would never pick someone like me, I couldn’t help but hope. Hope that one day maybe, he’d see me and realize that I could be something more than a girl he blackmailed into sleeping with him.
God, what does it say about me that I’d even want that? He treated me like I was nothing from the start, and in return, I go and fall for him. I’m just as screwed up as he is, completely and utterly stupid. For a moment, I think that I’ll leave, take myself to the airport and catch the first flight back home. It would be the easiest thing for me to do. Just get away from him as quickly as possible. But if I do that, he’ll know. He’ll know that he hurt me and giving him the satisfaction of seeing me in pain is not an option.
I decide instead to finish cooking, get through the day, and take it from there. One thing I know for sure is that I will not let him touch me, not ever again. It’ll kill me if it costs my mom her job, but even I have limits. Even I can’t pretend that the man I’m sleeping with is single when I know he’s not. Then there’s that nagging voice in my head telling me that maybe his father was lying. Maybe he was just trying to hurt me because he couldn’t stand the fact that I actually stood up for Oliver. But he gave me her name, Stephanie. Could he have just made it up? Probably not, I think to myself, now convinced that what he said is true.
Once I’ve finished cooking, I head back to Oliver’s bedroom, pick out a simple dress from the pile of clothes he bought me, and take a shower. I don’t know how long I’m in there, but it feels good to let the warm water wash away the stench of this long day. Once I’ve finished, I quickly get dressed, comb and dry my hair the best I can, and apply a little bit of makeup. I’m just about finished when I hear a knock on the door and Oliver calling my name. I’m about to tell him that I’ll be right out when the door opens, and he strides in, eyes heated and on me. I open my mouth to speak, but he’s on me before I can get a word out. His hands grip my waist, and with no effort at all, he lifts me up onto the counter and kisses me. I try to push him away, angry that he’s kissing me at all after what I’ve found out about him, but he grabs my hands and pulls them behind my back.
I gasp as he transfers both my hands into one of his then skillfully uses his free hand to pry my legs apart, squeezing his body between them for better access to me. It doesn’t take long for me to forget my promise to myself not to let him touch me. It doesn’t take me long to forget that he belongs to someone else before I’m kissing him right back. It’s reckless and stupid, but I throw myself into it, kissing him as fiercely as he’s kissing me. God knows I want to say no to him, but my body wants something completely different. My body wants him because he’s the only person who’s ever really made me feel alive. Once he’s confident that I’m not going anywhere, he releases my hands, and immediately, they find purchase in his hair. I want him; I’ve wanted him since the moment I saw him sitting at a table in my restaurant, and it’s only gotten worse. If I have to say goodbye to him, is it really that wrong of me to have him one more time? To feel him one more time? To feel like he’s mine, even if it’s a lie?
I can hear the clinking of his belt as he undoes it, and I should take that as my cue to stop this. I should push him away and tell him to leave me the hell alone, but I don’t. Instead, I revel in the feel of him as he slides inside me, taking me right here in the bathroom as if he owns me. I guess in a strange way, he does; he owns more of me than he knows, more than I’ll ever let on. His strokes are quick and rough, frenzied and manic. I don’t know if I can find my release this way, but he somehow maneuvers a hand between us and begins to rub my clit. It’s like he knows exactly what to do, exactly the right amount of pressure to use to light me up.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispers into my ear as I begin to whimper. He circles his finger, pushing harder on my clit, his rhythm relentless until I can’t take anymore and I let go. His hand covers my mouth as I come hard, crying out and clutching his shoulders as I do. He begins to thrust faster, harder, keeping his hand over my mouth as he pounds into me. I can feel his body go taut just as he buries his head into the crook of my neck and groans through his own release.
He remains there for a minute, catching his breath, and as he does, the sense of euphoria starts to dissipate, and I begin to come to my senses. I realize what I’ve just done, and I let out a disappointed sigh. Not for him, he is who he is, a flawed man clearly incapable of change. No. The disappointment is for me, all for me, because I can’t claim ignorance anymore. I know his truth, and it still didn’t stop me from falling right into his arms.
He recovers, sliding out of me and kissing me on the forehead before quickly cleaning up and fixing his pants. I want to say something, tell him that he’s a monster for what he’s doing, what he’s done to this fiancée of his and what he’s done to me. I stay quiet, though, because it’s not the time. His family is in the other room, his mother, who’s just been through a terrible ordeal.
“My mother’s out there with Jacob,” he says, breaking into my thoughts. “We have to get out there.”
“I can’t believe you actually had sex with me in your bathroom while your family is out there,” I say, pointing at the door.
He grins at me, and it’s wicked and sexy. “I couldn’t help it. You looked beautiful.”
“Give me a minute to make myself look presentable.” I turn away from him, looking into the mirror to check the damage to my appearance. All I see is the reflection of a girl I don’t like very much right now.
“Are you okay?” he asks, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me back into him, like he did earlier. I love it. I love how he makes me feel when he holds me close.
“I’m fine, just tired. It’s been a long day,” I lie and quickly change the topic. “How’s your mom doing?”
“As well as can be expected. Thank you for cooking.” His hand slides over my stomach to my waist, and he gives me a squeeze. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“It was no trouble.”
“It was thoughtful,” he says, kissing the side of my head. “By the way, your car’s all fixed, and I had them
drop it off at your house.”
“How much is it?”
“Don’t worry about it. I took care of it.”
“I can’t let you do that. I like to pay for my own things, Oliver. It’s my car.”
“All right,” he says, brushing his nose along my hairline. “I paid for it with the money I gave you for giving me a tour of Savannah.”
I open my mouth to tell him how ridiculous that is, that I gave him that money back because I didn’t want it, but he cuts me off before I can get a word out.
“I’ll let them know you’ll be out in a minute.” He releases me and walks out of the bathroom, leaving me there with my feelings of confusion, guilt, and disappointment. I want to be angry with him for lying to me, for not telling me that he’s engaged to be married, but all I feel is hurt. Besides, how can I be mad at him when he’s never once promised me anything at all?
I hide in the bathroom for a few more minutes, trying to come to terms with my situation and what needs to be done to end it. When I’m sure that my emotions are in check, I walk into the bedroom, slip on a pair of sandals, and head out of the bedroom.
“You have to listen to us, Mom,” I hear Oliver say as I walk down the hall. I contemplate turning around and locking myself back in the bedroom so that they can finish their conversation in private, but his mother thwarts my plan before I can make my move.
“We’ll talk about it later; your lovely friend has joined us,” Oliver’s mom says with a smile.
I smile back at her and give her a shy wave, but as always, my eyes go to Oliver. They lock on him as he stands from his place on the couch across from his mom. He extends a hand out to me, and I immediately take it. He pulls me to him, tucking me into his side and pressing his lips to my hair.
“Mom, this is Riley.” He introduces me, and I’m taken aback by his overt display of affection in front of her. Is this the behavior of someone who’s engaged? Maybe his father was lying. I don’t know what to believe anymore.
