by Nana Malone
I nodded. "Yup, whatever you need."
Four months ago, he and his mates had tracked me down as I was working double shifts in bank operations and at a pub while going to Uni at night. I’d thought the whole lot of them dodgy when I first heard about the Elite.
A Secret Society? That skull and bones shit. That was the stuff of movies. Brotherhood, protection, secrets. So I’d said no.
But then the bank had found out about my brother, and I’d been desperate. Funny how a reversal of fortunes will make you more rational. In the end, it was the best decision I could have made.
It had given me more than a job. And I certainly wasn’t in the market for family. Tessa was all I needed. But The Elite and working for the London Lords had given me a chance when I’d run clean out of chances.
Most of my training was spent with Bridge. Occasionally Ben Covington, and only a few sessions with East Hale and Drew Wilcox.
I had figured out right away that the best way to endear myself to anyone was to be the bloke willing to do anything. It didn't matter what. It didn't matter how dirty my hands were going to get. If I was willing to do it, they’d appreciate it. "All right, let's head down to Livy's office."
It was a rare moment to hear warmth in Bridge's voice. But he always had it when he spoke of Ben’s wife, Olivia Covington, and Nyla Kincade, East's fiancée. The affection was almost palpable. He did not have that affectionate tone when he was talking about his fiancée, or rather former fiancée, Mina Tomlinson. I knew they'd broken up, but she'd been at the office as recently as last week, and she looked a bit mussed when she left his office. So what? We'd all been there. Had a shag we couldn't get out of our heads. So I didn't ask questions. I just did what I was told.
When we walked into Olivia's office, she stood with a smile. "Ah, Bridge, there you are. And you brought me a present."
I smiled at her. She was hard not to like. Beautiful. Poised. Nut-brown skin. Sometimes she wore her hair curly and natural. I liked those days because usually it meant her hair was going to get in the way. And she was always fighting with it. Which was funny to watch. But today, she was all slick and businesslike.
I noticed Jessa Ainsley in one of the guest chairs and turned my grin on her. "Jessa, good to see you."
She smiled. "Ah, I hope my cousin-in-law and the boys are being nice."
I laughed. "I think nice is a relative term."
Bridge cleared his throat. And I recognized that as his let's-get-down-to-business mode. Jessa was also a stunner. She and Livy could have easily been sisters. But technically, they were cousins-in-law or something. Jessa was married to Ben's cousin, Roone Ainsley. And she also worked at London Lords, spending half her time in London and the other half in the Winston Isles where she was also a princess. But that was a whole other story.
"Bridge said that you needed me."
Olivia grinned. "Yes, actually."
She gestured toward the corner of the office where I hadn't even looked. "This is Rian Beaumont. She is our new Operations Assistant. I'm going to be putting her on the Kensington account, and I'd like for you to work together on it."
Holy fuck. That name. There were a million girls named Rian, it couldn’t be her.
But as I turned to face the person Olivia was introducing me too, heat flooded my body. Her last name was wrong. As my gaze flickered from Olivia's to the corner of the room where the sofa and chairs and coffee were, a flood of memories assaulted my senses. Olive complexion, long, lean legs, a tiny waist, dark hair in a wavy cascade over one shoulder, those full lips, the pert little nose that I'd often wanted to tap with my finger, wide eyes, almost a little too big for her face. Except, when I'd known her, she'd been Rian Cooke.
It was her. Fuck me. What the fuck was she doing here?
Her voice was soft, melodic. "Hi, I'm Rian. It's nice to meet you."
She came forward, arm outstretched, and all I could do was stare at it as if coming in contact would electrocute me. I knew better than to touch her. I knew if I did, it would be my destruction.
Touching her had ruined my life once. I knew better than to do it again. But there I was, my body going onto autopilot, taking her hand, the electricity zinging up my arm. "Oliver Wexler, nice to meet you."
Rian was back in London. And I was going to be expected to work with her. The hell I would. Not in a million years had I expected to see her again. And not in a million years was I going to tolerate her intrusion in my life again. Before the end of the day, I'd make sure she was back on a plane home. Far away from me with zero chance of fucking up my life again.
Three
Rian
I needed a minute. A minute would hardly suffice. I could have used a whole damn day to process what the fuck just happened.
Instead, I wasn't getting a whole day, I was getting the equivalent of ten minutes before someone came looking for me in the ladies’ loo, no doubt.
All I could do was splash water on my face and stare at myself in the mirror. Oliver fucking Wexler. Looking exactly as I remembered him. Those silvery-gray eyes. A mostly straight Roman nose that looked like it had been broken at least once. His full pouty lips. A jaw that had been sculpted out of the Henry Cavill mold. Luckily for me, he hadn’t put that dimple on display, or I’d have been in real trouble.
Oh sure, the both of us managed to keep straight faces for our introduction. Hell, when Olivia had asked him to stay behind to discuss a different project, he even gave me a wide smile and said, "Just give me a few and I can show you around."
Show me around. As if. The way he said it just made it sound dirty. I wasn't going to let him show me anything.
Are you sure about that?
Freaking Ollie Wexler. I wasn't ready.
Never mind that I never thought I would see him again. Because honestly, who sees brothers of their ex-boyfriends? And never mind that we’d made out once. Never mind that I’d believed that he wanted me. That I’d believed he was different from Max.
I’d been duped and lied to. This was the stuff of rom-com torture. None of this was supposed to happen in real life. Except, that it was happening now. To me. And I needed to get my shit together. Pronto.
As water dripped from my face and I examined my options, I realized they weren’t plentiful. It wasn't like I could run. First of all, I had nowhere to go. Second of all, working here was my dream gig. The one I'd worked my ass off for. And third of all, there was no way I was giving the Wexler boys the satisfaction of running me off… again.
I’d poured everything I had into getting this job. So I wasn't running.
Also, don't forget, you really have nowhere else to go. That wash of shame that always hit me when I thought about my father hit hard. There was no going back. What was I even supposed to do, move back home to Chevy Chase? And do what? Apologize some more and beg for the approval that was never going to come?
Nope. This was it. I'd put my chips all in on my career and my job, so I had to figure this out.
The question was, could I work with him? The Wexler boys had ruined my life. Could I get past that and work with him day in and day out? Could I make it work, as Tim Gunn would say? I was going to need to figure it out. I was going to need to figure out a coping strategy if I wanted to stay here. Because regardless of how nice he was to me now, at some point, we were going to be alone together. And this was all going to blow up.
Or it could be fine. Maybe he'd changed. Maybe he was no longer that asshole, who sold me out, used me, and threw me to the wolves.
Even before the thought was out, I kicked it in the nuts. Men like that didn't change. The sooner I realized that the happier I'd be. Which meant I was going to have to put on the mask. The one that screamed that I was calm, cool, efficient, and that I gave no fucks. Even if I gave all the fucks. I wasn't going to let him steal my chance. This was my shot. I was all in on this. So Ollie Wexler be damned. We were just going to have to figure out how to work together.
Besides, we were adults now.
And what was the worst that could happen?
Ollie
I’d had a plan.
I loved plans and strategy. That shit made me thrive. My life had a distinct plan, and that plan hinged on no fucking distractions.
But Rian Cooke is so much more than a distraction.
She was also a liar and a user.
After the police dragged her out of her aunt’s house that night, I’d never seen her again. And when I did finally hear from her, she’d told me to fuck right off. So as far as I’d been concerned, I’d never see or hear from her again.
I didn’t have a plan B for this. And since there was no plan B, I was going to need to remove her from the equation.
You sound like your brother.
That did sound ominous.
I had to rein in the familiar flair of panic. I wasn’t Max. I wasn’t going to kill her. I was just going to get her to leave. Right the fuck now.
There were these moments in your life when there were no more appropriate words than What. The. Fuck.
And this was one of them.
She looked just like I remembered her. Her scent was the memory of a caress. The faintest hint of jasmine and vanilla. Her almond-shaped eyes were still dark pools of aged whiskey. Her cheekbones carved by a master.
The last time I'd seen her, the police had been escorting her out of her aunt’s house. She’d looked terrified. Her dark eyes too wide. Her thin, frail body damp from her previous walk in the rain. My lips still tingling from contact with hers. I had never seen her again after that night.
I hadn't forgotten a single moment of it. How she looked. How she felt. How she tasted. The zing of electricity up my spine as I could finally have that thing that I had coveted, that thing I shouldn't want, that thing that had ruptured the soul that was me and my brother. Ever since Mom had died, Max and I had been on a trajectory destined to clash.
My obsession with Rian had ruined everything.
Oh, I’d thought I hid it well. Never putting my eyes on her too long, but making sure to look at her every now and again. As if it was easy. As if it was the most natural thing in the world because if I didn't, that would also have signaled how I felt about her and about my brother's treatment of her, so no. I had never in my life expected to see her again.
Granted, that night I had signaled, at the very least to Max, exactly how I felt about Rian because when all was said and done, I'd chosen her.
And now, with the trajectory of my life about to change and finally become something I could be happy about, proud of, there she was again, like a bad penny threatening to ruin me at the very moment I could feel my freedom brush my fingertips.
When I'd been introduced to her, all I could do was stick my hand out, shake hers, plaster a fucking smile on my face, and say, "Hi, good to meet you," because my future hinged on me doing so.
She was a complication that was going to ruin my plan. And I was not going to have Rian ruin that for me.
Which was why I dragged her into the supply cupboard off the main hall after our operations meeting. With a none-too-gentle grip on her arm and a hand on her mouth, I backed her against the wall.
"What the hell?" She mumbled against my hand.
"I'm going to remove my hand, and you're not going to scream."
Her eyes were wide and terrified. But then they narrowed to slits when she saw it was me.
“We need to talk."
"Screw you, Wexler.” Her voice was still muffled, but I could hear her.
I smirked. “I don’t remember you being so mouthy. I said we need to talk.” She bit my palm, and I muttered a curse as I released her. "Fuck, Rian.”
"Are you kidding me? You dragged me into a closet like a crazy person.”
I tilted my chin up. "It’s not like we could do this in the office.”
She threw up her hands. “I get that you might be surprised to see me , but that hardly warrants you attempting to murder me in a supply closet.”
“Cupboard,” I corrected.
Her brow furrowed. “What?”
“You keep saying closet.”
Unexpectedly, the right corner of her lip twitched and for just a breath I could see her. A glimpse of that girl I used to know. The one with the sweet smile and dancing eyes. The one who always made it a point to acknowledge me…and not just in a surface way either. But in a way that made me feel that even though I felt trapped with Max, I could taste freedom.
“Still correcting me, Ollie?”
Her voice was pure sweetness and something inside of me twisted. I missed that girl. I wanted her back.
Except that girl doesn’t exist. If she ever did.
I assessed her gaze again, direct, unflinching, tightness around her full lips. This was anger, not fear. “What the fuck are you doing here? What is it, Miss Beaumont?” My inflection on Beaumont made it sound like an epithet.
Tilting her head up, she scowled at me. “My name is none of your business.”
“Have it your way. Doesn’t matter. You’re not staying. What do you want to take that pert peach of an arse back to where you crawled out from?”
She blinked at me in surprise, then sputtered. “Go back?”
“I didn’t stutter.” I spoke more slowly so that she wouldn’t misunderstand me. “Go. Back. Home. You don’t belong here. Nobody wants you here. You and I, we don’t know each other.”
She did the most unexpected thing then. She laughed. Like in that way that people laugh at children when they say something crazy. Her palms flattened against my chest, searing right through the cotton of my shirt, and she shoved.
I didn't budge. Her lips pressed together, and a frown furrowed her brow. "Let’s get a few things straight. One, I’m not going anywhere. Do you even understand what I had to go through to be standing here right now? Of course you don’t. Because you believe the world revolves around you. Second, you don't touch me, ever. Not after everything that happened. You want to act like we don’t know each other? Fine by me. But you stay out of my way. I’m rebuilding my life. I’m not the same weak girl who left here confused and broken. I’m fighting for what I want.”
I blinked at her. Why the fuck did she sound angry with me? As if I was the one who ruined her life. “You’re the one who turned up here on my turf.”
“Looks like you’re going to have to share. I’m not leaving. The sooner you get used to the idea, the better off you’ll be.”
“You could have warned me."
"It's not my obligation to warn you. Especially not given our history. Besides, how was I to know you worked here?"
"You’re acting like I ruined your life. After everything I did for you?"
Her brows snapped down. "Everything you did? You mean, let the police cart me off like some kind of criminal?"
I lifted my brows. "They told me they’d let you go. They sent you back home to the States."
"Yeah, they did. But that’s because I told them the truth. I didn't know what the hell they wanted or what they were looking for."
And then I realized she really didn't know. I was caught between not telling her, leaving it a mystery, and telling her so that she would know and heed the warning. I opted to keep my mouth shut. "You know what, it doesn't matter. You don't know me, I don't know you."
"Oh really?" She jabbed a finger to my chest. "Trust me, I wish I had never met you or your damn brother. I have to say, you were a real tour de force, finding me in the rain. Taking me home. Looking after me. No one had ever treated me like that before. Taken care of me like that. You made me feel safe. It made me really want to believe in you. That summer ruined my life. I'm trying to get it back. Now give me one good reason why I shouldn't fucking march into Bridge Edgerton's office and tell him that I know exactly who you are. Something tells me they don't know that you and your brother are scammers and thieves."
I scowled down at her, acutely aware of the brush of her breasts against my chest as she heaved sharp intakes of breath. Acutely aware of the heat
we generated together and of the jasmine and vanilla scent of her hair. Acutely aware of everything Rian. "I don't think you'll do that, because if you rat me out, your involvement comes up too. And while you may have been cleared, there will always, always be that question about you. And from the looks of it, you look nice and comfortable here."
"You think I won't do it? I will throw myself on Olivia's mercy so quick, and she will believe me. I will make her believe me."
I grinned at that, noting that she was more than happy to report me to Bridge, but if she needed clemency, she was going to go to Livy? Hell no. "You report me to Bridge, I'll report you to Bridge. I don't think Livy is going to be able to help you. I don’t care how good you were in the New York office."
And I could see it there, the chink in her armor. She was Olivia's pick. Olivia's hire. With that quick flutter of her lashes, she told me everything I needed to know. The London Lords were absolutely in charge here. She was terrified of Bridge Edgerton. I should be too.
Probably the most dangerous thing of all, was that I wanted her just as much as I'd wanted her before. More, even.
I scowled down at her, aware of the way her tongue peeked out to moisten her plump lips. Aware of the molten lava simmering under my skin and the way my dick was waking up from his long-ass slumber.
"I hate you,” she spat. “I will never believe anything you tell me again."
"Don't worry, I won't be whispering sweet nothings to you."
"You wish. You think I would ever let you—"
She was talking a lot, and her pitch was rising. So if I didn't do something, we were going to get caught. Also, the more her anger rose, the more I needed to see if she tasted the same. It was a calculated risk.
Yeah, you think?
My lips slammed down on hers, quick and hard. and my tongue licked out over the seam of her lips.
The joke was on me. That was a rookie fucking mistake. If I thought the taste of Rian Cooke had haunted me for the last five years, the last thing on earth I ever should have done was taste her again. She was sweet, hot, and the brushing of our lips was like plugging myself into an electrical outlet. I pulled back just as she gasped. Her lips parted, slightly bruised, and I glowered down at her. "You talk too much. Keep your fucking mouth shut and we won't have any problem."
