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.