Overlooked

by Lulu Pratt

  “You disgust me,” I say with enough venom in my voice to scare even me.

  “That may be the case but you’ll do it if you care about my father as much as you say.”

  My antenna sticks straight up when he says that. What the hell does he mean by that?

  “Because if you don’t give in, you’re fired and I know you don’t want to disappoint the old man, isn’t that right?” he asks, his voice taking on a mocking tone.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  None of it makes sense. Before my trip, he’d never so much as acknowledged me beyond saying “hi” and “bye.” Now he wants me to believe he’s just been “waiting his turn”?

  The whole thing makes me want to vomit.

  “I’m not sleeping with you,” I tell him. “But I’m not going to abandon your father.”

  “Tread lightly, Olivia. A lot is on the line here. Before you say no, make sure you’re okay with failing my father in the process.”

  Shaking my head, I regard him with hatred in my eyes. I can’t believe he’d be so heartless. He knows how much I’ve grown to care for Arnold and my determination to see this fight through until the end. Would he really put his father’s life in danger just to prove a point?

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Give me what I want and you’ll never have to find out.”

  “No,” I say firmly, so sure that he’ll drop it.

  I should know better because he doesn’t let it go.

  “That’s a shame,” he murmurs shaking his head sorrowfully. “I was really looking forward to having my fill of you. But I guess you want to do this the hard way. Have your stuff out of my house in twenty-four hours. You no longer have a job.”

  And with that, he turns and walks away.

  What the hell just happened?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  OLIVIA KING

  Settled on Winnie’s couch, I huff and look around the living room at my scattered bags and unorganized belongings. Because of how sudden my move was, I’d been in no way capable of cataloging things before I just dumped them in a bag or box.

  True to her nature, Winnie hurried over and helped me pack when I called her upset about what happened. It wasn’t so much that I was sad to lose my job. It was the fact that now Arnold was susceptible to God knows what because of his son’s reckless behavior.

  Everything transpired before eight and now it’s nearly midnight and I’m finally taking a deep breath.

  “You okay?” Winnie asks, plopping down on the sofa beside me.

  I turn my head to face her and feel a pang of guilt when I get a good look at her.

  Simply put, my friend looks beyond exhausted and I know she has to get up and head to the office bright and early, even though it’ll be Sunday.

  “I feel like I should be asking you that. Why don’t you go to bed? I’m fine. I promise,” I say, giving her a reassuring smile.

  When I’d mentioned checking in to a hotel for the night, she objected and demanded that I sleep in her spare bedroom.

  “Nonsense. We’re having a glass of wine to celebrate your freedom. I know it didn’t come in the way you planned but it’s still freedom nonetheless.”

  She pulls a bottle of red wine seemingly out of thin air. Winnie makes quick work of filling two glasses and setting the bottle on the coffee table. We clink glasses and recline against the comfortable cushions of her couch.

  “Cheers to you, girl.”

  “You’re a lifesaver,” I tell her.

  “Please, I haven’t done anything you wouldn’t do for me. Have you talked to Sebastian about everything that’s happened today?”

  My heart dances as soon as I hear his name and my smile isn’t too far behind it. Despite my shitty day, just the mention of him has me feeling lightheaded.

  “Not yet. I honestly haven’t paid too much attention to my phone today. I’ll give him a call before I go to bed. It’s not as late over there so I have time.”

  “You officially no longer have an excuse not to visit him in California. He’ll probably have you relocated and settled by the end of the week,” she says matter-of-factly, taking another sip of her wine.

  “Your stuff is already packed,” she says with a half smile.

  An hour later, after our second glass of wine, Winnie treks down the hall to her room. After locating something to sleep in, I grab my clothes and head for the guest room on the opposite side of the apartment.

  Once I’ve showered, I slip under the covers and press my phone to my ear. Anticipating Sebastian to answer, I frown when it rings endlessly. Calling him again, I get the same result.

  He must be busy.

  When I called the third time, the phone bypasses ringing and goes straight to voicemail.

  A heavy feeling settles in my gut but I try to shrug it off.

  He’s just busy.

  Even though it’s eleven at night where he is, I know that Sebastian often pulls long, unpredictable hours. So this must be one of those nights.

  When I’m prompted to leave a message after the tone, I sigh and start speaking. “Hi, Bash. I know you’re probably busy working but I just wanted to hear your voice. It’s been a rough day. Give me a call when you get this. Bye for now.”

  After leaving the message, I decide to try to get some sleep. I’m mentally and physically worn out.

  However, my overactive mind is whirling from the day’s events and I sit up on my phone clicking through different apps.

  Suddenly, an alert sounds and my hopes are quickly crushed when I realize that instead of a text from Sebastian, the sound is from the stupid Google alerts Winnie set up on my phone when I first returned from vacation.

  She claims that because of who I’m dating, I should always be privy to what people are posting about me. I haven’t used it once, always ignoring the notifications. Until tonight.

  Blame it on the wine, but I find myself in a rather inquisitive mood. I open the notification and wait for my phone to load the landing page.

  From the heading on the website, I can see that it’s clearly a gossip blog covering pop culture.

  What the hell could they be posting about me? Sebastian and I haven’t been seen out together since Turks and Caicos. His visit here last week was too brief to garner any real attention. At least I thought so.

  It doesn’t take me long to get my answer and I feel like the bottom has just dropped out of me.

  There, on the screen in full color, is a picture of Sebastian and some blonde woman with legs that stretch on for miles.

  What strikes me is that the woman is holding a colorful bouquet of flowers, smiling radiantly with her arm looped through Sebastian’s. His smile isn’t as wide as hers but it’s there and it cracks my heart in half.

  For the first time, I allow my eyes to wander to the caption under the photograph:

  “Just weeks after enjoying an island getaway with contest winner Olivia King, tech tycoon Bash Downs seems to have moved on from the fling. Today he was pictured out with his ex, supermodel Maya Levi. Have these two rekindled an old flame? YOU be the judge. Swipe through the photos and leave us your take below.”

  His ex? The gravity of that information hits me with the force of ten-thousand bricks. Sebastian outright told me that he never dated anyone because of his demanding career.

  And judging from the photos, they were very familiar with one another. The photos screamed intimacy. Their entwined arms, their smiles and their searing eye contact. Everything about it was nauseating.

  My unanswered calls suddenly make sense. He wasn’t working late after all.

  But he’d been busy all right.

  An eerie sense of déjà vu settles over me, twisting the knife in my gut that much more. This is Jordan all over again, except more people get to witness my humiliation.

  But there was no blog post to point out Jordan’s betrayal. This was worse.

  What I thought was love for Jordan dims in comparison to what I feel for Sebastian. A
nd he’d just stomped all over my heart.

  I can’t believe I made myself vulnerable to him and believed the bullshit about him being “all in.”

  My chest is constricting from the pain and I want to scream at the top of my lungs but I refuse to wake Winnie.

  Why had he led me to believe we were more than we actually were? He’d snatched away my right to choose whether or not I wanted to be a part of his sick little lineup of women.

  The screen blurs in front of me before I feel wetness on my cheek. But he isn’t worth my tears. Foolishly, I’d opened my heart up to someone who wasn’t worthy and now I have to face the repercussions.

  Silly me.

  With shaking hands, I quickly type out a text.

  Message received loud and clear. I won’t bother you again.

  My finger punches “send” as more tears threaten to fall. Refusing to feel sorry for myself, I swipe the moisture from my face and toss my phone across the bed.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  SEBASTIAN DOWNS

  I fucked up.

  When I pulled out my phone tonight and saw those three missed calls from Olivia my stomach dropped to my shoes because I just knew she was calling to confront me about the pictures that surfaced with me and Maya.

  Instead, I’d heard her tired but cheerful voice lamenting about a rough day and urging me to call her back.

  Thinking I had time to warn her about what she may see later, I saved the voicemail just as a text message from her came through.

  Message received loud and clear. I won’t bother you again.

  Swearing under my breath, I immediately call her to set the record straight, already realizing that my chances are pretty slim. She’s had time to form her own idea of what happened. On my fourth attempt, Olivia finally picks up the phone sounding groggy.

  “H-Hello?”

  “Olivia, I can explain.” There’s really no need for pleasantries at this point.

  Silence stretches before Olivia speaks again, sounding confused.

  “Sebastian?”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  I can tell the exact moment she comes awake fully. The grogginess leaves her voice and is replaced with icy anger.

  “I don’t know, the pictures are pretty damning. You know, I thought I was special when I saw the pics from my trip and the way you looked at me. But I guess that’s just your default expression whenever the prospect of getting laid is on the table.”

  “Olivia.” I don’t know why I can’t manage more but words fail me at the moment I need them most.

  “Very convenient of you to forget you had a supermodel ex.” The anger in her voice is evident but so is the hurt and I feel like shit for being the cause of it.

  Sighing, I try to string together my next few words carefully.

  “Maya was in town for a family member’s funeral. I felt bad for her.”

  It sounded silly to my own ears but it’s the absolute truth.

  “So I’m guessing you felt bad for me too when we started our little fling. She looks pretty radiant for someone who’s grieving. How’d you pull that off?”

  “You’re not a fucking fling!” I roar through the phone. “You’re everything. You have to believe me, Olivia.”

  “I don’t have to believe anything. I made a mistake by letting down my guard around you. We should have left it all on the island.”

  “Olivia, don’t. You know how I feel about you.”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t trust a thing you say. I wouldn’t be lying here humiliated if your words were anywhere near the truth. Tell me something. If the shoe was on the other foot and you saw me out with another man, would you be okay with it?”

  A beat passes as the line goes silent because she struck a nerve. Hell no, I wouldn’t okay with it.

  “That’s exactly what I thought. You’ve been territorial over me since before our first kiss. If another man so much as looks at me, you go into an uproar. But you’re allowed to walk the streets with your ex after a date and I should just take it?”

  Her voice is shaking with anger and I’ve never felt more disappointed in myself.

  “I wasn’t think—”

  “That much is obvious. But I won’t be a part of this little lineup you have. You won’t get the chance to embarrass me again, Sebastian. I’m officially removing myself from your sick little roster.”

  “There is no roster! Would you just fucking listen to me?” I shout in frustration.

  “You don’t get to be angry with me!” she yells right back, not missing a beat. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Unless you count trusting you.”

  Her words sting, but I don’t have time to dwell on them.

  “Olivia, please.” My voice is pleading. “I didn’t do anything with her. She means nothing to me.”

  “She obviously means enough if you went running as soon as she called.”

  “It’s not like that. I told you I felt bad.”

  “Well lucky her,” comes her snide remark. “Listen, Sebastian. I have to go. Your pathetic excuses are the last thing I need to add to this shitty day. I’m jobless and homeless. I don’t really have the extra energy to deal with this at the moment.”

  Her initial voicemail comes to mind and I want to know what happened. Even though I know the likelihood of her confiding in me is slim to none.

  “Olivia, talk to me. What happened, baby?”

  “I called to tell you all about it, but you were too busy taking a trip down memory lane to answer me. Look, I clearly misinterpreted my role in your life but I was serious when I texted you earlier. I won’t bother you again and that’s a promise. Please don’t contact me anymore, Sebastian.”

  “Olivia, wait—”

  She hangs up on me.

  This isn’t over, Olivia.

  As soon as I send the text, it bounces back with a generic message informing me that the recipient has blocked me from sending messages.

  Furious, I shove everything off my nightstand. The loud crash doesn’t even register as I stand there fuming.

  This cannot be the fucking end. I refuse to lose her like this.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  OLIVIA KING

  One month later…

  “But I don’t understand, I didn’t apply for any scholarship. There must be a mistake. I’m here to pay with a check,” I explain.

  I’m standing in the middle of the accounting office at Tennessee State and while the lady in front of me is kind looking, she’s clearly confused me with some other student.

  “My name is Olivia King. K-I-N-G. Maybe it’s a popular last name but I assure you I haven’t received any scholarships.”

  Talking with my hands, I shuffle from one foot to another waiting for her to reevaluate her computer screen and recognize the error.

  “Honey, I don’t know what to tell you; it posted to your account this morning. An anonymous donor set up the funding and you’re the only recipient in the whole school,” the gray-haired lady informs me.

  The only recipient in the whole school.

  It doesn’t take me long to piece two and two together and come up with Sebastian. There’s no way another stranger would feel inclined to randomly cover the cost of my education.

  I’m stunned and angered by his interference all at once. He refuses to just leave me alone.

  Magically, he found out about the new apartment I’ve been renting and huge bouquets of peonies arrive every other day. Each time, there’s a card attached with a straightforward message letting me know that he has no intention of giving up on us.

  The same day I’d received my acceptance letter to nursing school, a brand new car was delivered to my doorstep. Not just any car — a shiny, red BMW with a bow on the hood to be exact. Upon opening the driver’s side door, balloons with the word “Congrats” written all over them floated up into the air.

  As stunned as I was by the gesture, I haven’t driven it once.

  No amount of expensive gifts can ma
ke me forget the pain he caused me. At least that’s what I tell myself. I’ve been second guessing my decision so much lately.

  What if I overreacted because of the shitty day I was having? Sebastian had no reason to lie. Was he really telling the truth?

  It doesn’t matter. It’s over.

  “The scholarship covers your tuition for every semester, as well as a book stipend. So make sure you come back a week before school and we’ll cut you a check so you can buy your books,” she continues to go on and on, knocking me out of my reverie.

  Numb, I thank the woman and turn just as she tells me congratulations.

  A thank you doesn’t fall from my lips because I’m too busy rustling through my bag to find my phone.

  This is enough. I’m calling Sebastian to get to the bottom of all this.

  My stomach is attacked by nervous quivering as I hold the phone to my ear and wait for him to answer the call.

  He does so on the first ring and I suddenly realize I’m not ready to hear his voice again. Especially surrounded by a crowd of strangers as I walk through campus to get back to the main road.

  “Olivia?” his voice is as deep and sensuous as I remember. My knees nearly buckle at the sound.

  I’ve missed him.

  The urge to just hang up looms over my head but I can’t chicken out. I have to give him a piece of my mind. But all my bossy remarks have suddenly fled my mind.

  I can only muster his name.

  “Sebastian.”

  “Olivia,” he says again but this time my name is a relieved sigh. As if he’s been waiting a hundred years for this moment and it’s finally happening.

  “I-I, um.” Are you freaking kidding me? I’m stuttering like a fool. Clearing my throat, I try again. “Why did you pay for my tuition?”

  The question sounds accusatory and in a way it is. I don’t need his money. I’d already won a million dollars from his company. Why did he feel the need to keep rubbing it in my face how much money he had?

  “What makes you think I paid for your tuition, baby?”