Enraptured: A Billionaire Romance (The ROGUES Series Book 2)

by Tracie Delaney

  “Oliver.” Her voice came out breathy, a little hesitant. She set her fork down, her eyes glistening, that tempting little furrow appearing between her brows. The one I wanted to kiss every time it materialized. “You don’t have to make promises to me. I’m not asking for commitment.”

  “And what if I am?” I asked. “What if I want to take the next step with you? Hell, Harlow, you’ve practically moved into my bedroom, even if you do leave before dawn breaks each morning. Which, by the way, you might as well drop. Annie knows exactly what’s going on.”

  “Does she? How? She hasn’t said a thing to me.”

  I chuckled as the conversation I’d had with Annie when I put her to bed last night came back to me. “She said that maybe now I wouldn’t get so mad if she asked whether you could be her mommy.”

  Harlow covered her mouth with her palm. “Oh god,” she said, her voice coming out muffled. “She knew about that?”

  Fresh guilt raced through me at my behavior that night. It still surprised me that Harlow had forgiven me so easily for how cruel I’d been; for the terrible, cold, cutting words I’d used. Warmth rushed to my face.

  “Yeah. Dad of the year, huh, not to mention the world’s shittiest employer.”

  She inclined her head. “Oh, Oliver. You’re an amazing father. Don’t be so hard on yourself. That night is in the past. I could have, should have handled it better than I did, but what’s the point in going over old ground? That was then, and this is now.”

  “I don’t deserve you,” I said.

  She rubbed her forefinger over her bottom lip. “I think you’ve got that the wrong way around.”

  I ignored her self-deprecating comment. “Let’s make a deal. I won’t ever mention my appalling behavior that night, and you stop running out of my room at four in the morning, panicking in case Annie catches a glimpse of us lying next to each other. If you’re that worried, I’ll put a lock on the door.”

  “No, don’t do that,” she said hurriedly. “That’s not fair to Annie. It’s her home. She should be able to go where she pleases.”

  “It’s our home, too,” I said. “And Annie needs to learn that privacy is important. It won’t be long before she’s insisting I knock before entering her room.”

  Harlow grinned. “That’s very true.”

  “We’re in agreement then? No more sneaking out in the dead of night to return to a cold bed and leave me all alone.” I pouted.

  She laughed. “You’re far too good at getting your own way.”

  I ran my tongue over my bottom lip. “I know.”

  Our flirty lunch relaxed my tense muscles, and by the time my driver dropped me back at the office, I was ready to take on my next appointment. I insisted Harlow take the car. I didn’t need it until this evening. I hadn’t a clue why she’d bothered riding the subway when I had a garage full of cars, but if it made her happy to continue, I wouldn’t argue. I promised not to be late getting home, and entered my building, giving her a little wave as the car pulled away.

  22

  Harlow

  Sitting in the back of Oliver’s luxurious limousine with the soft leather caressing every inch of me, I couldn’t remove the beaming grin from my face. Occasionally the driver glanced in his rearview mirror, and his eyes crinkled as he looked at me.

  I exuded happiness.

  Oliver had basically asked me to move in.

  Permanently.

  Okay, not in so many words. He hadn’t actually said “Move in with me, Harlow”, but as good as. Oliver’s actions always spoke louder, anyway. And he’d said “our home”, not “my home”.

  I wrapped my arms around myself and squeezed, wishing they were his arms. Soon they would be. Tonight. I’d pick Annie up from school, then I’d prepare a delicious dinner for the three of us. He’d put Annie to bed, and then I planned to take him to bed—early—and show my gratitude.

  I owed him, anyway, after his gift back at his office.

  My face burned at the memory. No doubt, our extra-curricular activities would be all over the building by now. I mustn’t let it bother me. It certainly didn’t bother Oliver.

  His driver stopped outside the building. I thanked him and exited the car, dashing into the apartment building and out of the cold. The lobby pumped out welcome heat. I unfastened my coat and headed for the elevators.

  “Miss Winter?”

  I glanced over my shoulder as I heard my name called. The receptionist beckoned to me.

  “Miss Winter,” she repeated. “You have a visitor.”

  I frowned, turning in the direction she pointed. Sitting on one of the sofa’s scattered around the area was a woman with ash-blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail, a pair of sunglasses sitting on top of her head—no idea why she’d need those considering the dark-gray clouds stalking New York today—and a woolen knee-length dress that clung to her curvy body. So put together, she was the antithesis of me. She had one of those faces that made you think you’d seen her somewhere before, but I was fairly certain we’d never met.

  I crossed over to her, and she rose from her seat as I approached.

  “Hi,” I said. “I’m Harlow Winter. Can I help you?”

  She gave me a head-to-toe appraisal that reminded me of Jasmine, then smiled, one that didn’t reach her cold, hard eyes.

  “Yes, I rather think you can,” she said, her New York accent prevalent, even though she tried to tone it down. “Tell me, Miss Winter, do you make a habit of stealing other women’s husbands?”

  She spoke so loudly, a few people nearby twisted their heads and openly stared.

  Her identity came to me in a rush. Fuck. This must be Sara. What the hell is she doing here?

  Despite the ice dripping through my veins and the painful prickling creeping up my neck, I decided to play dumb and see how far she pushed it.

  “I’m sorry,” I said with as much grace as I could muster. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must have the wrong person.”

  I turned around. She gripped my wrist.

  “I have exactly the right person,” she bit out. “Tall, dark-haired, handsome guy with oodles of cash to buy anything… and anyone he likes.”

  I noticed she hadn’t mentioned Annie, only Oliver. I glared at her until she released me.

  “What do you want, Sara?”

  She smiled. If a snake could smile, I imagined it would look exactly like Oliver’s ex.

  “Ah, so you do know who I am.” She tapped her fingertip to her plum-colored lips. “What do I want, what do I want?” she chanted. “It’s simple really, sweetheart. Now that I’m back, there’s no need for you, is there.”

  She didn’t frame it as a question, and I didn’t answer it.

  “Lucky for me, you’re not my employer. Therefore, until I’m told otherwise, I shall continue to do the job I’m paid for.”

  Sara sneered. “There’s a word for that, darling. Hooker.”

  I didn’t remember hitting her. I did remember the sting in my palm, the gasp from the receptionist and several people still milling about watching the show. And I definitely remembered Sara clutching the side of her face, hiding the place where the outline of my fingers was clearly visible.

  “I’m calling the police,” she hissed. “That’s assault, and I have witnesses.”

  “No, please don’t,” I begged. “I have to pick Annie up from school soon. Your daughter, Annie,” I added. “Don’t call the police. I’m sorry I hit you. I shouldn’t have.”

  Sara remained quiet, allowing the silence to linger and my panic to grow. Eventually, she said, “Okay, I won’t call them. Yet. As long as you do one thing.”

  I don’t like the sound of this.

  “And what might that be?” I asked, dread circling in my gut.

  “Call Oliver. Tell him I’m here, and I’m back to stay.”

  And with that, she wandered off toward the bank of elevators, trailing a cashmere scarf behind her. She stood by the private elevator, the only one tha
t went up to the penthouse. The one you needed a code to access.

  “Come, come, Harlow,” she said, tapping her foot. “You surely don’t expect me to wait in the lobby.”

  My palm itched to smack her other cheek. If I thought for one second I’d get away with it, she’d have a matching handprint on the other side of her face. But Annie needed me, and I had a feeling Oliver would, too. If I gave in to my baser instincts, the only thing I’d have to look forward to was a night in a cell.

  But whatever Sara was doing back in New York, my Spidey sense told me it wasn’t good—for any of us. Every nerve ending I possessed had jumped to full alert, and a semi-painful prickling sprung up over my entire body.

  Adrenaline, I thought. Fight or flight.

  I’d always been a fighter.

  I strode across the lobby, pushing confidence into every step. Jabbing a finger at the call button, I waited for the doors to glide open, then moved past her and strode in first. The elevator swept us smoothly up to the top floor. I studiously ignored her, my gaze dead ahead, my heart pumping blood and oxygen around my body, each beat injecting more steel into my spine.

  Oliver was mine. And I loved Annie as if she were my own. If Sara thought she could simply walk in here after six years and pick up where she left off, she’d better strap in for the fight of her life.

  I had no idea how Oliver would react to her arrival. I hoped he’d throw her out on her ass and order her never to come back. I worried he’d hear her out, let her have access to Annie, and open the door for her to worm her way back into his and Annie’s lives.

  Which meant I’d be the one out on my ass.

  As soon as we arrived at the penthouse, Sara swept her keen gaze around the living area, then crossed over to the windows and looked out at the view.

  “He always dreamed of living in a place like this,” she said, a tinge of nostalgia to her tone.

  With no interest in speaking to her, I dropped my purse on the countertop, then removed my phone. I’d rather she didn’t listen in to my call to Oliver, but equally, there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d leave her here alone.

  I moved as far away as I could while still able to keep an eye on Sara, and pressed the phone to my ear. Oliver answered on the third ring.

  “Harlow, can I call you back? I’m in a meeting.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, keeping my voice low and watching Sara run her gaze over me, a smirk on her lips. She was loving every second of this. “But you need to come home, right now.”

  “Why?” Panic bled into his tone. “Is Annie okay?”

  “Annie’s fine.” I took a breath. “Sara is here.”

  I heard his sharp intake of breath, the pause as he tried to process what I’d said, and then the whoosh of air as he emptied his lungs.

  “I’m on my way.”

  23

  Oliver

  “Hurry,” I barked at Ryker’s driver who was trying his best to navigate the Midtown traffic. I’d had to borrow Ryker’s car as Harlow had taken mine. Usually, I enjoyed the forty-five-minute ride home as it gave me time to process the events of the day and empty my mind of everything to do with work, while looking forward to the evening ahead.

  Not today.

  I wished for the ability to teleport, to close my eyes and transport myself directly into my living room and find out what the fuck Sara thought she was doing showing up at my home after six years of silence.

  I had to remain calm. Any other reaction would play right into Sara’s hands. Adrenaline surged through my veins, and anger curled my hands into fists. The sound of blood pounded in my ears, drowning out the traffic noise from the busy streets.

  “We should arrive in ten minutes, sir.”

  Powerless to part the lines of traffic, I sat back, running pointless scenarios through my mind. What had possessed Sara to return now? If she wanted more money, she could fuck off. I’d been overly generous in the divorce settlement based on the assets I had at the time. That I’d amassed a far greater wealth in the last six years was none of her goddamn business, and if that was her aim, she’d leave sorely disappointed.

  Even so, I dropped an email to my lawyer, informing him of the situation and promising to call as soon as I’d gotten rid of her.

  Harlow.

  She mustn’t have known what to do. Although I’d loved Sara, she had a vicious streak that the young me had taken for passion rather than meanness. If she’d turned her sharp tongue on Harlow…

  Then again, Harlow was more than capable of defending herself.

  It didn’t make me worry any less.

  I bailed out of Ryker’s car before it had come to a complete stop and sprinted inside the building. On the ride in the elevator up to my penthouse, I took several deep, soothing breaths. I must remain detached. Cold, even. And businesslike. Treat this situation like any other. Discover the facts, assess, make the decision, move on.

  Easy as that.

  If only.

  Entering my home, I found Harlow on one side of the living space, and Sara on the other, watching each other warily. Harlow spotted me first, and I offered her a reassuring smile.

  “Sara,” I said, my tone cold and dismissive. “What a surprise.” I shrugged out of my jacket, tossed it over a nearby chair, and loosened my tie.

  “Oliver.”

  She bestowed a familiar smile on me, the kind of warm, loving smile I used to treasure, and closed the space between us, her arms out in front as if she thought I’d greet her with a hug and tell her all was forgiven.

  I reasserted control by moving around her and joining Harlow over by the kitchen. I slipped my arm around her waist and comfortingly brushed her hip with my thumb. “What do you want, Sara?”

  She bowed her head, chin tucked into her chest, and fluttered those eyelashes at me in such a way that, at one time, would have had me striding toward her and carrying her up to bed.

  “To talk.” Her eyes slid to Harlow, then back to me. “Alone.”

  I nodded, my acquiescence to Sara’s demands drawing a sharp inhale from Harlow. But my reasons were solid; I didn’t want Harlow to witness this exchange, full of hurt and bitterness, and harsh words.

  I squeezed Harlow’s waist. “Would you go fetch Annie from school?” I asked. “Take her to her favorite place for something to eat. I’ll call you.”

  Purposely speaking in code to avoid giving any unwitting information to Sara, I spoke with my eyes, praying Harlow got the message that I meant Bubby’s restaurant.

  “Got it.” She reached up and kissed my cheek in a purely possessive move, one meant to send a very clear message to Sara.

  I adored her for it.

  She picked up her purse and, without even a glance in Sara’s direction, left me alone with my ex-wife.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I gritted out the second the sound of the elevator doors closing reached me. I could hear the confusion mingled with blind rage in my tone.

  Sara inclined her head. “The nanny? Really, Oliver? Stereotypical, don’t you think?”

  I clenched my jaw tight. “Don’t fucking judge me. You fucked off more than six years ago, leaving me alone with our baby. You’re in no position to weigh in with opinions on how I conduct my life.”

  She winced, showing her emotions for the first time. Her expression softened, but my heart refused the concession. “No, you’re right. I’m not.”

  She walked over to the nearest chair and sat.

  I remained standing with my arms defensively folded over my chest. “Why don’t you just tell me what you’re doing here, and then you can go, and I can forget this ever happened.”

  Her eyes glistened with fake tears, and I raised my eyes to the heavens.

  “Oh, please.”

  “When did you become so cruel?” she whispered, fiddling with the hem of her dress.

  I choked out a laugh. “Are you for real?” I paced the floor in front of the kitchen. “You left, Sara. You made your choice six years ago. Have yo
u forgotten how I begged you to come home, over and over? How I pleaded with you to reconsider? Annie needed you, I needed you, yet you walked out without giving us a second thought. And then, when I tried to make contact, you slapped a harassment order on me. Don’t expect me to be happy that you’re back. I’m not.”

  She covered her face with her hands, a quiet sob escaping. “I was young, Oliver. It was all too much. Us. The baby. I couldn’t cope. So I ran. But I loved you both then, and I still do. And now that I’m older, I want to make amends.”

  I widened my eyes. “Oh, you are a piece of work. Either that, or you’re a complete narcissist who has decided to rewrite history in your own fucked-up mind. Don’t pull the ‘I was young’ card on me. We were both young.” I glared at her. “Don’t you even want to know how she is? This daughter you say you love? You haven’t even asked about her.”

  “Of course I want to know,” Sara cried. “I’m desperate for any tidbit you’re willing to share with me. I’m not an idiot, Oliver. I know I’ve got a long road ahead of me. I did a terrible thing, one that destroyed your trust in me, and that isn’t easily fixed. All I’m asking for is a chance. I want to get to know my daughter. I want to make up for all the missing years.” She blinked up at me, and a tear rolled down her cheek. “I want you back.”

  Her words hit me like a battering ram to my chest. I stumbled back as if the words had the ability to physically impact me. A hundred responses sped through my mind, some harsh, most bitter.

  I wanted to yell at her, to make her understand the pain and anguish she caused. Instead, I let out a resigned sigh. “What’s changed?”

  She pressed her hand to her chest. “Me. I’ve changed. I’ve had a long time to come to terms with what I’ve done. I’m not proud of my actions. I’m horrified at what I did, but I can’t change the past. All I can do is try to be a better person, now and in the future.”

  I rarely drank in the daytime, but these were extenuating circumstances. It wasn’t every day your ex showed up out of the blue after a six-year period of absence. During which time you went through a bitter divorce, only to inform you they’d made a terrible mistake, that they wanted to wind back the clock and start over.