Her eyes bounce open in surprise. “You do?”
“Very much.” The words escape my barely parted lips.
“I…I care about you, too,” she confesses, the humility of her words in her tone. She tries to look back down, but my hand on her face prevents it.
“There’s no need to be ashamed of how you feel,” I say.
“I have no idea how I feel,” she admits, folding her arms across her chest so her breasts are pushed to the top of her shirt.
“Why should you? We are all just figuring it out as we go.”
“But…I was just engaged a few months ago. Sometimes I still feel engaged. I didn’t stop loving him.”
“You shouldn’t,” I tell her. “You will likely always love him. Just like I will always, in one way or another, love Iris. But feelings change over time. People change. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s what makes us human.”
There’s a guarded expression on her face, one I can’t make sense of. Have I said the wrong thing again?
“You don’t feel guilty?” Her innocent stare is making it difficult to feel much other than desire.
“For what?”
“For…caring about me? For…looking at me the way you are.” She huffs out a quiet laugh, her gaze burning into mine.
“I don’t feel guilty for anything, Olivia. It’s a wasted emotion. What’s done is done. What’s meant to happen…will.” I lick my lips, drawing her eyes to them.
“What…do you think is meant to happen here? With us?” Her voice is husky then, deep and quiet, like it sounds in my head when I picture her.
“I know what I would like to happen, but I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable.”
Her thumb rubs over the bend of her arm as she contemplates what I’ve said. I know she wants it, too. I just need her to admit it.
I finally lower my hand from her face, missing her warmth the moment we separate, and I wait. Her eyes dart back and forth, thinking, thinking.
When she looks back up at me, I know what the words on her lips will be before she says them. “I think…I want this, too, Orrick.”
Okay, so I was wrong.
Without waiting for further permission, I lift my hand to her cheek again, caressing her skin with my thumb while I lower my lips to hers. Her kiss is familiar to me now, though still a shock as we connect with fire between us. She’s soft and tender while I’m passionate and hurried. I want to taste her, explore her, and it all starts here. I can’t stop my hands from lowering from her jaw, my fingertips grazing her back before I grip her waist.
She puts her hands around my neck, pulling me into her as our kiss grows deeper. Already, I feel myself hardening, and I push into her thigh. To my surprise, she doesn’t pull away, but stays still, her hands lowering to my shoulders.
We break apart, and I lower my mouth to her neck, nipping at her earlobe before running kisses in the space between her jaw and collarbone. I’m sensuous and slow, then quick and heated. Back and forth, responding to her hot breaths in my ear.
I lean forward, one hand behind her as I bend her backward, taking control. She grips the back of my neck with passion, pulling me back to her lips. It’s give and take, and I’m enjoying myself way too much. We make our way clumsily across the study, and I set her on the sofa. I sit down beside her, taking a breath. She’s watching, waiting, but there is no hesitation in her eyes, so I lean in, cupping her face again as I pull her toward me. I lay her down, easing my body on top of hers.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” I whisper, feeling like a teenager again. That’s what Olivia makes me feel—young and carefree, without the weight that life has given me to keep me grounded. I feel like anything’s possible with her.
I’m harder than I’ve been in so long, practically begging to break free of my pants. With caution, I slide my hand under her shirt and lift my palm to her breast, my lips never leaving hers. I want her. Now.
My hand on her bare skin only further confirms it, and I’m not sure how much longer I can wait. She bites my lip playfully, and I groan.
“You have no idea how much I want you, Olivia,” I whisper, our foreheads pressed together as I slide my hand under her bra, kissing her again. I don’t ever want to stop. I don’t want this moment—or the next—to ever end.
She grabs my neck, running her fingers through my hair as one of her legs slides around mine, her knees parting.
My eyes roll back as I try to think of anything besides her. I want to impress her, to blow her mind, but based on the way my heart is thudding with a warning it may go out, and my dick is beating against my zipper with a ferocity I’ve never known, I’m thinking it’ll be a miracle if I make it inside her at all.
Inside her.
Oh god, I’m going to be inside her.
Anything else, Orrick. Money. Dogs. AJ. The office. Diapers. Elephants. Cathrine. Birds. Apple cores. Trash. Laundry. Pie. Something. Anything.
Try as I might, nothing can distract me from her hand as it slides down my thigh, or her breast, the nipple pebbling between my fingers.
I give up, pulling my hand out from under her shirt and reaching for my belt. I slide it out of the loop, pulling her pants down and trailing my gaze over her body. I take her shirt off next, my pulse so loud it’s practically drowning out my thoughts as I look at every inch of her.
“You are…incredibly sexy,” I whisper, suddenly thinking of the tattoo on her shoulder blade. I want to see it, and now there’s nothing in the way. Nothing between us at all as I slide from my pants and pull her body to mine.
I want to see her, touch her, taste her, appreciate her like she deserves. I want to own her. Control her. Bend her to my will.
If I play my cards right, I just might.
When it’s over, I’m not sure I’ve rocked her world quite like I’d planned. Rather than looking satisfied, she looks conflicted.
I wrap my body around hers, curling us together on the sofa. She’s quiet, our breathing the only sound in the room. After a while, I clear my throat.
“Are you…okay?”
She nods, her hair moving against my shoulder.
“Did I hurt you?” God, please say no. I need to be with her again, and soon. I have more to prove.
To my great relief, she shakes her head, but in the same breath, pulls away from me and sits up. She grabs her shirt from the arm of the sofa and pulls it over her head. When she stands, the bottom of it goes mid-thigh, so I’m not even given a chance to look her over again.
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask, sitting up as well. I grab my boxers from the back of the sofa and pull them on in a hurry.
“No, Orrick, it’s…it’s nothing like that. I just…” She pulls the blue panties on, and then her jeans immediately after. “I just didn’t expect that today.”
I throw my shirt over my shoulders, buttoning it carefully while I watch her in amazement. Her hair is a mess—I did that. Her lips are red—also me. The soreness I hope she feels—my mark on her. I want her to think of me tonight when she’s alone, every twinge of pain like a signature—mine.
“I didn’t either,” I tell her, smiling. “But…I’m glad it did.”
A blush like a shadow runs over her face. “You are?”
“Very much so,” I tell her, reaching for her hand as it dangles at her side. Her fingers slide across my palm, and I squeeze them gently. “This was amazing.” I lift her hand to my lips, pressing them to her and inhaling her scent, remembering where her hands were just moments ago. The thought sends a rush of adrenaline through my body. “You are amazing.”
She smiles, but the delight doesn’t travel to her eyes. She seems cold and distant, barely glancing at me as I finish buttoning up my shirt. “You won’t tell Iris.”
It’s more of a statement than a question, but she’s obviously waiting for an answer. “Of course not,” I assure her, pulling her in for a hug. She’s stiff at first, but gives in. I kiss the top of her head. “I will never tell Iris a
nything that happens between us.” She nods against my shirt, but doesn’t lift her head. “You did nothing wrong here, Olivia.”
When she pulls away, there are wet spots on the fabric of my shirt from her tears. My blood runs cold, wondering what she’s going to say when her lips part. “It feels wrong,” she says.
“Because of Iris?”
She hesitates, but nods.
“I promise you Iris doesn’t care what we do. As long as it feels right to us, why should the rest matter?” I lean my head to the side, waiting for her to elaborate.
“What if it was a mistake, Orrick? What if this, us, what if this was all a big mistake?” There’s panic in her expression, and I want nothing more than to calm her down. But how, when I don’t totally understand what she’s feeling? Where is this coming from?
“I promise you it wasn’t.” I brush a piece of hair behind her ears, my fingers lingering on her skin.
“How can you promise that?”
“Trust me, Olivia. I know all about mistakes. You, us, this…this was not a mistake.” I take her hand again, begging her to believe me. I wish I could tell her about my biggest mistake, make her realize how small this is in comparison. But I can’t. I know it. I can never tell anyone about that day.
“I should go check on John,” she says, dropping my hand. As she does, I simply nod, because there’s nothing left to say. “His piano teacher will be here soon.”
Olivia is not a mistake.
And even if she were, the biggest mistake of my life has already happened.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Orrick
TWO MONTHS AGO
I’m sitting outside my house, just down the street, in a gravel area where I can pull in. My car isn’t hidden from anyone who’s looking, but I’m not trying to hide. I want them to see me. I’m tired of hiding. Tired of being lied to.
It’s Wednesday, and I know they’ll be coming here. I know Tom will bring my wife here, behind my back, against direct orders, and when he does, I will stop him. I’ll pull out, demand answers, fire him, scream. I will finally be heard, finally let their secret out for them.
How long has it been going on? My guess is years, but I have no proof. I wish I could remember how far back it was that she decided we should give Danny Wednesdays off. I should’ve known then, but I didn’t bother questioning it.
Tom will tell me how long it’s been happening.
I’ll make sure of it.
I wait and I watch. It’ll be her car that pulls in, with him in the passenger’s seat. Him practically hard with thoughts of my wife in my house in my bed. It’s enough to make me vomit. If I hadn’t thought it was strange she’d given Danny a day off midweek, why hadn’t I at least noticed the fact that our cleaners were always scheduled to do the bedding on Wednesdays? That when I came home, the sheets were fresh and clean? Had she planned it that way on purpose? Of course she had. That’s Iris. Always planning…always plotting. She lives her life one step ahead of the rest of us. But not today. Today, I have the upper hand.
On the dash, my phone rings. It’s the office. I hit decline.
It can wait.
Today, everything can wait.
I watch for the car with unparalleled intensity. Nothing matters more than this today. Truth is, I don’t care what she does. I haven’t for a long time. It’s not some macho shit, I just don’t care. But what I do care about is my company, the employees closest to me. Of them, Tom is the closest. She’s hit too close to home with this one, and I will end it today. One way or another.
The phone rings again, same number. I hit decline.
I never decline the office calls. Not at the dinner table, not at my son’s soccer games, not while I’m taking a shit. But today, I hit decline.
The car still hasn’t come. I check the time on the dash. She knows I’ll be returning to the office in less than an hour. It’s pushing it to stay gone much longer, but still, I haven’t seen her car.
The phone rings a third time, and this time, it’s her name on my screen.
Iris.
Should say, lying bitch.
Unable to resist the temptation, I hit the button to answer the call, and her voice fills my car speakers.
“Orrick?”
“Yeah?” I try to seem calmer than I feel.
“Orrick, something’s wrong.”
Yeah, something’s wrong. You’re about to be caught. “What do you mean?” I rub my hand across the stubble on my chin.
“You…you need to call security. It’s something about Vance Corporation, but they wouldn’t give me any more info. Their file is locked to anyone but you.”
Chills line my arms at her words, and I hang up without acknowledging what she said. I scroll through my missed calls, clicking on the last one and listening as it dials me through.
“Thank you for calling Locke Industries. Your call is very important to us. Please listen to the following options…”
Our automatic system drones on, and I roll my eyes. I dial seven-nine-seven-five, my birthday and the code to patch me straight through to the first available extension.
“Locke Industries, this is Katie. How can I help you to feel more secure?”
“Katie, it’s Orrick Locke. What’s going on at Vance Industries?” I pull out of the gravel parking lot, headed for the office.
Her tone instantly changes. “Mr. Locke! Hello. Oh, um, well, let me look…” I hear her typing. “There are some notes in here about a suspicious person. Apparently,” she pauses, reading, “we saw someone walk into the Vance Corporation with a large, black backpack. They…they set it down,” her voice speeds up, “in a corner of the lobby and left. Mr. Locke, because of the way this client’s file is coded, we don’t have the authority to do anything without your say-so. Should we dispatch our team? Call the bomb squad?”
Shit. Shit. Shit. Her voice is calm, as she’s been trained to be, but the urgent tone is proof of the panic she feels. There have been numerous bomb threats to Vance Corporation coming in ever since an investigation was opened to check into their illegal fracking operations. We’ve been doing everything we can to counteract that investigation, but up until this point, the threats have all proven to be false.
“Okay, Katie, I want you to listen to me very carefully. We need to send our people over there. This needs to be handled quietly but very urgently, do you understand?”
“Of course, Mr. Locke.”
I hang up, dialing Phillip Vance’s direct line. After two rings, it goes to voicemail. “Phil, it’s Orrick Locke. Call me back ASAP.” I don’t want to cause too much alarm if it’s not warranted, but in my gut, there’s nothing but ice-cold fear.
I’ve messed up.
I should’ve answered the calls. If I had, we’d have fifteen minutes longer to deal with this. If I had, we could’ve gotten ahead of it. I dial Iris’ number next.
“Iris Lock—”
“It’s me.”
“Hey, what’s going—”
“You need to get out of the building,” I warn her. “Do it calmly and carefully, but you need to get out and drive west, as far away from Vance Corp as you can get.”
“What are you—”
“Iris, listen to me!” We’re a block away from Vance Corporation, but depending on the size of the potential bomb, the entire downtown could be taken out. We should call the police, alert them about what we know, but our promise to our clients is that we handle things internally whenever possible. It’s why we have a team that’s been specially trained to handle these circumstances. If Vance’s company wasn’t doing illegal work, if my name wasn’t the only one who could sign off on their file, the team would’ve already been dispatched, already been there. I lower my voice, though there’s no one around to hear me. “There’s a bomb at Vance Corp.”
“A what?” she shrieks.
“Shhhhh.” I slam my hand onto the steering wheel. “You need to get out of there, do you hear me?”
In the background,
I hear Tom’s voice. “Iris, is everything—”
She’s mumbling her words, not making much sense as I hear the receiver drop with a thud, and then she’s talking to him.
“Iris, wait!” I hear him call.
In the distance, the ding of the elevator is loud and clear. I hear the receiver being fumbled around. “Hello?” comes Tom’s cautious voice. “Is…is someone there?”
I breathe, considering warning him, but I change my mind. Death is a steep price to pay for what he’s done, but being saved is a reward he hasn’t earned.
He drops the receiver again, and I hear the line click.
Just like that, he’s gone.
I press the gas harder.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Orrick
TWO MONTHS AGO
A bomb has gone off at Vance Corporation. It was real. The threats were real. The backpack, the bomber, all of it.
The bomb was small, the work of an amateur, and only eleven of the two hundred employees were killed, thirty more injured. The names have not yet been released.
Even still, eleven casualties on my watch. On the watch of a security company whose sole job is to protect its clients.
We’ve talked to the police, given them the tape of the unrecognizable bomber, and now, Iris and I sit in the office silently, staring at each other as we wait for our empire to crumble around us.
What they don’t know—yet—is that we had ample warning and chose not to act. They don’t know I didn’t answer the two most important calls I could’ve received. Soon, they will, and once they do, though I doubt I’ll be held criminally responsible, I will lose everything.
The Nanny's Secret Page 13
