by Elise Noble
“Sure.”
The cool air outside gave a welcome respite. Oliver’s presence had made me hot and sweaty, not least the way he kept brushing against me, and the slight bulge in his pants told me I wasn’t the only one looking for escape. I lifted the lid off the trash can and threw the bag inside. Not long now.
“Think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Randy’s voice came out of the darkness, and he stepped forwards into the light from the kitchen window.
“What are you talking about?”
“Getting some guy down here from Richmond to act as a cock-blocker.”
Randy advanced slowly, and I backed away until I hit the wooden siding of the house.
“You can’t keep blackmailing me.”
“Wanna bet?”
As he pressed against me, I felt the hard evidence of what he wanted and retched to the side. He wrinkled his nose.
“Don’t play so innocent. We both know you’re not.”
I tried to think of a retort, but I didn’t have to. Oliver appeared from the shadows and tore Randy away from me. The sharp crack of his head against the siding echoed into the night, and I hoped his skull hadn’t damaged the wood.
“If you ever threaten my girlfriend again, I’ll make you sorry you ever breathed. Does the name Tiffany Smales mean anything to you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Randy’s voice came out weak, a far cry from his usual arrogance. Probably because Oliver had one forearm pressed against Randy’s neck while his body pinned the arrogant little shit to the wall.
“Then I’ll remind you, shall I? Tiffany was the other girl who said no, right before you raped her. Your father may have made the charges go away, but I bet the whole of Hartscross would love to hear about the fifty thousand dollars he paid her to leave town.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Really? It didn’t sound like it when I spoke to Tiffany earlier, you sick motherfucker.” Oliver glared at Randy in the moonlight. “I’ll bring a private prosecution if I have to, and I’ll enjoy every second of it.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Try me.”
“Your girlfriend’s a hooker, you know that?”
Oliver leaned harder against Randy’s neck. “I know what she was, and I know what she isn’t now. I also know that if I hear those words come out your mouth again, you’ll regret it.” Oliver stood back, giving Randy space to move. “Come within a hundred yards of Stefanie, and I’ll make your life the misery it deserves to be. Got it?”
Randy didn’t answer, just bolted around the side of the house into the darkness. A few seconds later, a car started and tyres squealed as he shot out of the driveway.
I sagged into Oliver’s arms. “I can’t believe you did that. Is it true? He raped a girl?”
“I believe so.”
“How did you find out?”
“You’ve got Dan, Mack, and Emmy to thank for that one. That’s why it took me longer than I hoped to get here earlier. They were digging up dirt.”
“I owe all of them so much. And you.”
“You can repay me by smiling, princess. I hate to see you sad.”
“You want to go upstairs and make me smile?”
“No, I want to kiss you first, then take you upstairs and make you come.”
I grinned, and Oliver grinned back. And then he kissed me.
CHAPTER 38
“SO THIS IS your room?”
Oliver stepped inside and looked around, and I felt a little embarrassed by my collection of cuddly toys.
“It hasn’t changed much since I was a child.”
He picked up a toy tiara from the shelf above my desk and placed it on my head. “Princess.”
I couldn’t help giggling as I twirled around. “That makes you Prince Charming.”
“I don’t know about the charming part. I only came here so I could get into your panties.”
He didn’t, and we both knew it, but it was easier to pretend than dwell on the real reason. I reached for his belt buckle.
“Then tear my panties off, prince.”
When I uttered those words, I expected Oliver to act quickly, but he surprised me again by taking things slow and gentle, carefully removing each item of clothing then running his tongue over the skin underneath. When he finally pulled my underwear off with his teeth, I was squirming under his fingers.
And he still wore his suit, which struck me as unfair. “Hey, I want you naked as well.”
“Then undress me.”
Both of us were panting by the time I gave him the same treatment, and we fell back on the bed in a tangle of limbs. Oliver nipped at my earlobes as he slid inside me, sending tingles all over my body. The plastic tiara lost its grip on my hair and tumbled off the side of the bed. I made a grab for it and missed.
“Leave it, princess. I’ll buy you a real one.”
“I don’t want a tiara. I only want you.”
And that night, I had him. Twice. Then he curled up behind me, arms and legs wrapped around my body as he caressed my breasts. That bedroom held all my hopes and dreams from over the years, from my ninth-grade spelling bee certificate to the flute I couldn’t play, and tonight I made another wish on the silver star that hung above the window. Please let this man be mine.
I drifted off to sleep, and for the first time when I woke up in the morning, Oliver hadn’t left me alone. I studied his face as I rested my head on his shoulder, his jaw relaxed as he breathed steadily. The most beautiful sight in the world. I shifted slightly and felt another male phenomenon on my hip—the glorious morning hardness of his cock.
Before I could stop myself, I’d peeled the covers back and straddled him, easing his cock into me until it was buried to the root. A slow smile spread across my lips as his eyes flickered open.
“Good morning, Oliver.”
He groaned. “I’m still dreaming.”
“Dream away.”
I flexed my hips and began to move, relishing the tension that built inside me as Oliver’s hands gripped my ass and urged me to go faster. As ever with that man, it didn’t take long for me to see stars, and he soon found his release as well. My muscles gave out and I slumped over his chest, loving the feel of him still inside.
He captured my lips with his. “That’s the best wake-up I’ve ever had.”
I almost told him I’d offer it daily, but I stopped myself at the last second. Baby steps. Oliver staying with me overnight was a big deal, and I didn’t want to jinx it.
“Sure beats coffee.”
“When do we need to get up?”
I checked the time. Six o’clock. “We’re safe for another hour. If you don’t want to stay for lunch, we can make an excuse.”
“I’ll stay. Reckon your stepfather got most of the interrogation out of the way yesterday.”
“Chester’s worse than Mom about asking questions. I’m surprised he didn’t request your medical history and latest tax return.” I snuggled into him. “But it was nice to find out more about Oliver Rhodes. You’ve never mentioned your childhood before.”
Oliver sighed, and the way his eyes shuttered told me I’d said the wrong thing. Dammit.
“I left out the parts about my mother leaving when I was six, my father being an alcoholic, and the beatings he gave me right up until I left home.”
Oh. Shit.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s done now, and I’m never going back to Colorado.”
“Do you ever see any of your family?” I whispered.
“I chose a new family, and they all live in Richmond.”
He didn’t elaborate, leaving me with a single burning question: was I one of them? And the subject wasn’t open for further discussion, as he made crystal clear with his next words.
“Enough about the past. If we’ve got an hour left, I can think of a much better way to use it than talking.” And with that, he rolled us both, hooked one of my knees ove
r his arm, and thrust deep once more.
Oliver the boy was quickly forgotten. He was all man now.
Oliver had fetched his overnight bag from his rental car the night before, and I watched in fascination as he pulled a pair of jeans out of it.
“I thought you said you didn’t own anything but suits.”
“Bradley bought them last week. He said I should relax more.”
The pants were distressed to within an inch of their life, and the soft denim hugged Oliver’s butt cheeks as I added Bradley to my list of people to thank when I got back. Next, Oliver produced a navy-blue cashmere crew-neck sweater and pulled it on. I’d always adored him in a suit, but my girly bits liked this new, casual Oliver just as much.
“What do you think?” he asked, standing a little stiffly.
“I think I want to tear you out of those clothes.”
He still wore his ridiculously expensive watch, and now he glanced at it.
“Do you think we have time?”
I sighed. “No.”
Mom was already flapping by the time we got downstairs. “I need to make tea for all the guests and I’ve got a list for the store. And I have to stop in and see Muriel on the way with cookies because she broke her hip last week.”
“I’ll make the tea.”
The last thing I wanted to do was get stuck at Muriel’s. She’d talk for hours about her cats, and I’d never get away.
“You need to warm the teapot first.”
“I know, Mom.”
We’d had this conversation many, many times over the years.
“And remind Uncle Frank to take his medication.”
“I will.”
Oliver chuckled as Mom disappeared out the door, and I slumped onto a stool.
“Don’t laugh. This is my life.”
“She means well. I get Bridget and her constant lectures about my health. This week’s smoothies are elderflower, chia seed, and beetroot.”
My nose wrinkled all of its own accord. Normally, I liked Bridget’s smoothies, even if I sometimes pretended otherwise, but beetroot?
“Yuck.”
“See, tea’s not so bad. Although I’d prefer coffee. Do you have that?”
By a minor miracle, we’d managed to make drinks for everyone, give Uncle Frank his arthritis pills, and make pancake batter by the time Mom walked back through the door.
“I couldn’t find the maple syrup… Mom, what’s wrong?”
She took one look at me and burst into tears.
“Maxine?” Chester was at her side in an instant. “What’s happened?”
She pointed at me, but no words came out.
Chester eased her down onto a chair. “Maxine, you need to tell me what’s wrong.”
With shaking fingers, she drew a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to him. “Darly saw this in a magazine last week. It’s all around town. The shame of it. The shame.”
I leaned over Chester’s shoulder to read, but I didn’t need to. The pictures were enough. Some trashy magazine spread on the Carter trial, with Oliver’s picture front and centre, handsome as sin. And my photo, one taken as I rushed away from my day in court, captioned The call girl who slept with a killer.
Oliver grabbed me as my knees buckled, holding me tightly against him. Cold horror flooded my veins. After all the effort we’d made to keep this secret from Mom, she’d found out anyway.
Chester scanned the article, then turned on me. “Is this true?”
What could I do but nod?
He fixed his gaze on Oliver. “And you? You’re paying for her ‘services’?”
“No, I am not,” Oliver snapped.
“I don’t believe you.” Chester stabbed Oliver’s picture with his finger. “You obviously know what she’s been up to, and no man would want her otherwise. She’s damaged goods.”
“This is your daughter we’re speaking about.”
“Ain’t none of my DNA in that girl. She’s someone else’s mistake.”
Mom burst into tears, but when I reached for her, she shrank away.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Maxine brought you up right—you didn’t want for nothing. Then you go and sell yourself like a cheap slut. You’re sick up here.” Chester tapped his head. “No man’s ever gonna want you as a wife.”
Oliver squared up to him. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Stefanie may have made mistakes in her past, but she’s got a pure heart, and you’ll never find a girl sweeter. And someday she’ll make a man a wonderful wife.”
A man?
Chester guffawed in his face, his twisted sneer so far from the man who’d brought me up I barely recognised him. “What, you’re gonna marry her, then?”
I held my breath.
“That’s a big question to ask a man you’ve known less than a day.”
A tear rolled down my cheek as my heart shattered.
“So your answer’s no. You just use Stefanie to get your kicks. I can’t say I blame you, and if I was thirty years younger, I might have had me some fun as well.”
Mom ran to the sink and threw up, and I almost joined her. How could Chester say something so disgusting? Only Oliver’s arm around my waist kept me steady.
And now he pulled me backwards. “Steffie, we’re leaving.”
“That’s it—run back to your city of shame. You’re not welcome here anymore.”
I stumbled up the stairs behind Oliver, and he grabbed both of our bags. Mason meandered into the hallway, rubbing his eyes.
“What’s going on?”
“Ask your father,” Oliver told him.
“Huh?”
“I’ll call you later, okay?”
I couldn’t deal with Mason’s questions, not now.
My feet barely touched the floor as Oliver half carried me out to his rental car, and I blinked back tears. Tears at the broken relationship with my mom, tears over Chester’s cruelty, tears about Oliver’s non-answer, tears that I’d never see my childhood home again. Because I knew I couldn’t go back there. Everything was tainted.
Oliver shoved the car into gear and sped off, making Randy’s exit last night look sedate.
“Now what?” I whispered.
“I don’t know.”
CHAPTER 39
ON MONDAY MORNING, I rolled over and groaned as my head pounded with a force that would make a Jedi weep. I wanted to believe the events of yesterday had just been a horrible dream, but when I saw my little case parked on the other side of the bed, I knew they weren’t.
And to cap it all, Oliver hadn’t stayed with me last night. No, we were back to separate rooms again.
We’d flown back from Georgia, on Emmy’s private jet, no less. On any other day that would have held me in awe, but yesterday, I barely had the energy to raise an eyebrow. The argument with Mom and Chester had left me drained. Oliver simply held me, my cheek resting on his chest as his heartbeat soothed my troubled mind.
He’d left his Porsche at the airport, hastily parked near one of the hangars, and he helped me into the passenger seat before driving us back to his penthouse.
“I’m sorry if I made things worse,” he whispered as we rode up in the elevator.
“Don’t worry. Things couldn’t have got any worse than Randy.”
Oh, how little I knew.
Oliver gave me a shot of whisky, kissed me softly, then tucked me under the covers before he promptly pulled another disappearing act. I longed for his arms around me all night, but he didn’t offer and I was too scared to ask.
In the morning, when I stumbled into the kitchen in search of a glass of water and some painkillers, he was already sitting at the counter, contemplating a cup of coffee as if it held the answers to life.
“Are you okay?” I asked him.
“Shouldn’t that be my question?”
“I’ve been better.”
His chest rattled with a sigh. “Steffie, I’ve been thinking about yesterday.”
“Do we have to talk about it? I just want to forget it ever happened.” I opened the drawer by the refrigerator, closed it again. “Is there any aspirin?”
He rose and fetched a packet from the cupboard over the microwave, then poured me a glass of mineral water.
“Headache?”
“Head, body, soul. I feel like I’ve been hit by a car.”
I slumped onto the stool opposite him, the night of turbulent sleep having done nothing to take the edge off my exhaustion.
“Steffie, we need to talk.”
Something in his tone made me look up. “What about?” A little quake in my voice gave away my fear.
“This. This…thing between us. Everything I said yesterday was true. You’re sweet and you’re pure, and someday you will make a man a wonderful wife.”
Oliver wouldn’t meet my eyes, and with a sinking heart, I knew where he was going.
“But not you? Right?”
“That was never the arrangement. And no matter how much other shit your stepfather spouted yesterday, he was right about one thing—I use you to get my kicks, and that’s got to stop.”
“But I don’t mind that. I mean, I want to be here.”
“You deserve a man who gives you all of him, and that’s not me.”
“I’d rather have what you give me than all of any other man.”
Oliver reached out and ran his fingers down my cheek. “That’s because you’ve never looked for the right man. It’s selfish of me to keep you.”
“I freely give myself.”
“It’s wrong.”
Tears bubbled up in the corners of my eyes. “So that’s it? Over?”
“I need to think about my life and the way I live it. You need to do the same. I see in your eyes what you want from me, and right now, I can’t give you that.”
“Will you ever be able to?”
His voice dropped, so quiet I could barely hear him. “I don’t know.”
The tears kept coming, unstoppable, my soul searching for an escape. This was the ugly side of love. The side they didn’t show you in the old black-and-white movies. The side that made me want to spend the rest of my life alone so love could never, ever touch me again.
“I’ll pack my things.”
“Do you want me to drive you home?”
