by Ash Harlow
“Is there enough time?” Oliver asked.
“They’ll drop something. This is big. New Zealand’s Exporter of the Year buying meth for his brother. They’ll be like ants on honey.”
“Ants on honey. You’re so sweet, Darcy.”
“Was that a compliment, Luther?”
He winked at me and stood. “War room, team. Let’s go and draw a battle plan on your massive whiteboard, Oli. Bring lots of pens.”
When we got to the door, Oliver held me back. “Have I told you how completely amazing you are?”
Despite the current turmoil, his voice did that thing to me where I felt like an adored, soft, sweet marshmallow. “Not since lunchtime,” I replied.
“When we get home tonight, I’m going to tell you in every way I can.”
“Stop thinking about your cock, Oli,” Luther shouted across the space where Gail and one of the secretaries were working.
“Language, Luther. This is an office, not a strip club.”
“Apologies, Gail.” Luther ducked his head in a quick bow. “Could I trouble you for some extremely dark, thick, highly caffeinated coffee?”
Gail stared at him for a couple of beats. “That would make your brain explode. I’ll bring you herbal tea.”
We passed through the doorway in front of Luther who was giving Gail a puppy-dog stare. Oliver took his arm and pulled him into the boardroom, and Luther pushed the door closed after us. “That PA of yours gives me no respect.”
“I think the feeling’s mutual,” Oliver replied.
We worked well into the evening with a brief pause to eat some seriously spicy food Luther had delivered. We made plans, worked out what we hoped would be every scenario that would occur once we kicked this thing into action.
Luther in work mode was formidable. The kind of person you hoped would always be on your side. We made a shortlist of people we’d pitch the idea to, then searched through months of on-demand TV programs to find someone we felt would be sympathetic.
Jason Cameron, we all agreed, was our best bet.
It was after ten by the time we closed up. I had my laptop and a legal pad full of notes. I had to get the story we would pitch in proper order. Luther would go over it the following day, and Oliver’s job was to hold off Annabelle by giving her a sense that this time, she just might win.
For once, I was pleased to live in a small town where the commute from the office to home was a matter of minutes. I walked in the door, dumped everything on the dining table and opened my laptop. A big sexy hand slapped it back closed again.
“No more work tonight, Darcy.”
“I have to get this to Luther tomorrow.”
“And you will. I expect your notes are perfect, so right now, I’m running us a bath.”
He disappeared down the hallway, and I opened my laptop again. I could get a head start while Oliver organized the bath. By the time he was back, I was engrossed in my work.
“Leave it be.” His fingers closed around the back of my neck and I leaned into him. “I get the feeling we’re going to eat and breathe this thing for a couple of weeks, so take a break and you can hit it, refreshed, in the morning. Come on.”
I let him pull me from the chair and lead me to the bathroom. The lights were off, but there were candles everywhere making pretty, flickering light. The bathwater filled the room with a spicy scent, and a fog of condensation covered the mirror. Oliver helped me out of my clothes, kissing the skin he bared. He shucked off his own clothes with far less ceremony, climbed into the bath first, and gestured for me to get between his legs.
I sank slowly, the water almost too hot. “Your chest makes the most perfect backrest. We should make a mold of it and turn it into furniture.”
“Shh. Your mind is as unstoppable as Luther’s. No talking. Close your eyes, I want you to relax.”
“I might fall asleep.”
“That’s fine. I’ve got you.”
He curved his palm around my forehead, like a mother gauging the temperature of a feverish child, and eased me back until he could prop his chin on the top of my head. I closed my eyes and fell into the steady rise and fall of his long, slow breaths. Occasionally, I felt the wave of movement through his throat as he swallowed. At some stage, I fell asleep.
I woke with Oliver leaning me forward. The bathwater was near tepid, my fingertips like prunes. He climbed out from behind me, then eased me to my feet. Oliver tended to me completely, letting out the bathwater, wrapping me in a gigantic, fluffy towel, and patting me dry, telling me not to wake as he gathered me in his arms and placed me in bed.
When he came to bed shortly after, we curled into each other. Oliver stroked my back and told me little stories about how much I meant to him, and the things we were going to do once this was over.
***
The dawn chorus began with a particularly cheerful tui dipping through the scales and finishing each with a high note followed by two guttural clicks. Outside it looked like night, but the bird seemed confident the sun would be along shortly so I eased myself out from beneath Oliver’s sleep-heavy arm, and left the bed.
While I made coffee, I marveled at how soundly I’d slept, but now my mind was in full work mode. Oliver was out soon after me, making breakfast as I continued to make sense of my notes.
“The timing of this is going to be critical,” I explained over a mouthful of toast. “We’ve got to have some sort of interview set up to tell your story without giving too much away in case we’re not picked up in our first approach. By that time, we need Pearl on our side, and not talking to Annabelle. Plus, Reuben has to agree to put us in contact with Pearl in the first place.”
“It’ll work.”
“You have to play Annabelle until we have everything else arranged.”
“Come out to the patio and eat your breakfast.”
“I need to get this done, Oliver.”
He snatched away my plate and coffee. “Without indigestion or an ulcer. I don’t want you becoming sick on my behalf. Follow me.”
“You’re so bossy,” I called out, watching him leave the room with my food.
“That’s because I’m the boss. Get out here. I want to enjoy the sight of you while we have breakfast. Together. On the patio. Without laptops, or phones, or pens, or paper.”
I dropped into a chair beside him and started to eat as fast as possible. Oliver stood up, closed the patio door and locked it.
“I can just go in through one of the other doors, you know.”
“That was symbolic, Darcy. I know you’re going to devour that food like a seagull, but if you try to leave before I’ve finished eating, I’ll tie you to your chair.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I care about you. Overworking is not a virtue, and you’re dealing with a situation that I caused.”
I dropped my toast to the plate and leaned forward on the table. “In case you’ve forgotten, that’s what you employed me to do.”
He shook his head, looking truly concerned. “It’s not. Dealing with this crap is not what I had in mind for you at all.”
“It’s cathartic.”
“Is it?” he asked. Our eyes locked, and we watched each other for the longest time. I could see the sadness he usually hid well, and had a sense that until this was over, he’d never be able to properly put Rocco to rest. That despite Oliver’s bravery, and his strength, he could be vulnerable, too.
“Yes, it is,” I replied. “It’s helping me. I feel as though I’m doing something useful, that I’m somehow making amends for—”
“You’ve done nothing wrong. I’d ask you to forgive yourself, but there’s nothing to forgive.”
“I should have spoken up earlier.”
“Your testimony helped put people in jail.”
I shrugged. “I let it all go on right under my nose.”
“You’re not to blame for what those people did. What can I do to make you see that?”
“Let me do an excellent job f
or you. If that takes extra hours this week, it won’t kill me. Let me do this to the best of my ability. For both of us.”
“Fine. Thank you. But when this is over, I’m taking you on holiday. No phones.”
“Perfect. I…” I stopped myself. I was about to tell him I loved him. The way those three words wanted to fall out shocked me because although I felt a deep connection to him, I thought the notion of loving him would come at some extraordinary moment, probably with fireworks or something else loud and bright to mark the occasion. Instead, it sat there waiting to catch me off-guard.
The corner of his mouth quirked. “You what?”
“I promise to wait patiently while you finish your breakfast.”
33 ~ OLIVER
Even driving to work Darcy wrote notes on her yellow legal pad. Stopped at an intersection, I tugged the pen from her hand.
“Listen to me. Do I have your attention?”
She made a kissy face at me. “I’m all yours.”
“It’s going to be chaos this week, but no matter what I’m doing, what meeting I’m in, who I’m talking with, I’m available for you if you need me. I don’t want you stressing—”
Her laughter filled the interior of the Range Rover. “Stressing? I thrive on this stuff. You have no idea how excited I am. This is what I do, Oliver. You build big boats and own buildings everywhere that need taking care of. I turn shit into chocolate, and it’s never better than when the stink is really bad.”
“Nice analogy, girl.”
The person driving the car held up behind us tooted their horn.
She snatched her pen back. “Move it, Sackville. You’re creating havoc in the Waitapu rush hour.”
The blocked car drove around us, the driver giving a friendly wave.
Darcy shook her head. “That would have been a one-finger salute or a fight in the city.”
“And yet, you’re eager to go back there.”
“Not necessarily. Life’s turning out to be kind of exciting in this town of yours. Plus, the guys are hot.”
“All of them?”
“Well, there’s one in particular.”
“Good. Don’t forget that.”
I drove slowly but Darcy didn’t notice as she went back to her legal pad, frantically scribbling, crossing out words, underlining others. Her notes looked like a metaphor for our relationship. Emphases and deletions. We’d both brought more chaos into each other’s lives than most burgeoning relationships could endure. I was determined we’d make it through, and believed these issues would strengthen rather than break us.
When we reached Tradewind, I followed Darcy into her office, closed the door and pushed her up against the wall. I took her chin in both hands, noticed the glint of the chestnut flecks in her eyes, the way her pupils dilated, the shallowness of her breath. I vowed I’d never stop noticing those things.
“Hi, Boss,” she said, all cheeky.
I took my time, kissing the mischief out of her. “I want you to understand that this doesn’t define us.”
“Awesome kissing?”
I thought I’d kissed the mischief out of her.
“Awesome kissing does define us. What doesn’t is this shit that’s going on right now. Rob and Annabelle don’t define us. Nor drugs, blackmail, lying and cheating. We’ll get through this and concentrate on each other, and on us. We’ll move on, and be stronger for it. Some relationships don’t withstand ugliness like this. We will.”
She nodded, solemn now.
“Good,” I said. “I’m off to sweet-talk Reuben. Let’s win the day.”
It wasn’t until late afternoon that Reuben answered his phone, but it only took my brief explanation of events for him to agree to talk to Pearl on our behalf.
“You’re in luck. She’s stopping in for the night, then she’s heading up to Auckland tomorrow. Have your chopper ready at a moment’s notice, Oliver. If she agrees to meet you, you’ll have to get over to the island in a flash.”
“No problem,” I told him.
An hour later, Darcy arrived in my office.
“Lock the door,” I said, when she closed it.
She flicked the latch as she spoke. “Luther and I have finished the pitch and I’ve talked to Jason Cameron. Initial reaction is that he’s hot for the story, so I’ve sent him the full pitch. I told him it has to be this Sunday or we’ll go wide and give it to everyone.”
“You lied to Jason Cameron.”
She perched on the desk beside me. “Just a little. Not really. Maybe. Thing is, we’re running tight on time. It has to be this weekend. Once the story is out, there will be some blow-back and we’ll need time to work on that to keep you squeaky clean. I hope you don’t have any big meetings this week because you might have to go to Auckland. What I suggested, though, was that they film down here so that they can put the story in the context of the small-town drug problem. His producer will be back to me later today. How did you go?”
“I finally tracked down Reuben. He’s on our side. Pearl is due on the island tonight, and she leaves tomorrow. If our luck hangs in, I can go over and chat with her tomorrow.”
“It’s a good start. What about Annabelle?”
“I’m playing her. I’ve been back and forth, trying to make her see sense, then offering her low sums of money. I want her to believe she’s got me over a barrel. We’re still bargaining but she thinks she’s going to win.”
“That sounds good.”
Darcy’s voice was flat. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Sure,” she said, looking as though she’d put a lot of effort into her smile.
I slid my chair back and pulled her between my thighs, her cute ass resting against my desk. I placed my hands just above her knees and held her. The tension leaving her body was clear to see. “Tell me what’s up?”
She winced. “I hate that you’re having to deal with Ellie, Annabelle, whoever she is. I’m a little jealous of her. She’s beautiful.”
“She’s ugly, and you’re mine, and I don’t want anyone else.”
“I know, I’m being silly.”
I slid my hands further up her thighs. “Let me prove how much you’re mine.”
“We’re in your office, and there are still staff around.”
“You locked the door.”
“Because you asked me …” she stopped and grinned. “You’re bad, Sackville.”
“Let me show you how good I can be, then.” I pushed her skirt up. “I love this skirt. It makes your pussy so accessible. This underwear is hot.”
“My boyfriend buys it for me,” she said, shifting a little as I stroked her over the silk.
“He has good taste.”
“Thank you, I’ll tell him.” She leaned in and licked my ear. “You have good taste,” she whispered.
I ran my hands down her legs to her ankles, slipping off her shoes. I loved stockings, but I loved summer and bare skin even more. “Feet go up here,” I said, taking hold of her ankles and resting them either side of me on the arms of my chair.
Darcy glanced over my shoulder. The windows looked out to the marina. “Are you sure they can’t see from down there?”
“When I had this building designed one of the stipulations was that nobody could see into my office.”
“So you planned the office around your sexcapades?”
“How come you’re still talking when your pussy is this wet? By now, you should be beyond thinking.”
“Oliver?”
“I build yachts for very wealthy people and when they pay a visit to the yard, I assure them of privacy. Now, back to business. I love this underwear, but it’s in the way.” I pushed her knees together and tugged the underwear down, then lifted each leg and slid them off.
“You know Luther will probably barge in.” She’d shut her knees tight of her own accord this time.
“Much and all as Luther appears to walk in and out of my life at will, he doesn’t. Can we not raise his name while I’m thinking about tasting
your pussy? Open up here,” I said, tapping her knees.
Her knees parted to give me a view of her pussy. I spread her lips with one hand, stroking her lightly with my finger. I pressed on top of her clit, on a spot that always made her groan.
She gasped. “Oh, hell, too fast.”
“Too fast?” I went back to light stroking.
“Yeah, make it last.”
I slipped a finger inside her, curving and finding her g-spot as I continued to circle her clit. “How about this?”
“No, not that.” She panted.
“How about you come for me now, quickly, then I’ll fuck you nice and slow.”
Her head tipped back and she closed her eyes. “That will work,” she said softly.
I kept rubbing inside her, working another finger in as I closed my mouth over her clit. In seconds, her thighs gripped me. I sucked her clit into my mouth, wondering how it was even possible for a pussy to taste this sweet. When I closed my teeth over her, she cursed and kept her hips still. My tongue flicked, her clit growing harder.
“Oliver…please…”
I knew what she wanted. I took my thumb to her entrance and got it a little way inside her. The pressure always sent her over, and this time was no different. She ground against my hand, saying my name, telling me what I already knew.
She was going to come.
Over her moans I heard the rattle of the door handle. Right at the moment her orgasm ripped through her, came the words I didn’t want to hear.
“Your door’s locked, Oliver. I’ll give you ten minutes.”
Darcy struggled to sit up, but I pressed her back with a hand on her shoulder and kept playing with her until the contractions in her pussy became little more than a flutter.
I slid her panties over her feet and she took them from my grip, jerking them up her legs.
“He’s impossible. Can you not get him a girlfriend, or a puppy? He needs something to fill in his spare time.”
“You shouldn’t have said his name. It’s like summoning the devil.”
Darcy looked flushed, and gorgeously annoyed. “Is there another door to get out of here?”
