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?"