Chapter Nine
The dining room is set, my grandfather is in there chatting with Miranda – he seems to be the only one who can get her to smile – and I’m waiting for Olivia to come downstairs.
She was called on over thirty minutes ago and while I’d decided to give her time, I knew she wasn’t coming.
So just like the evening prior, I go up to fetch her.
I find her just like the night before, tucked into the mammoth bed, still dressed, which is a surprise, drinking wine out of a cup, but she’s snacking on Cheetos now, the orange dust staining her fingers.
She glares over at me where I stand in the door, hands in my pockets.
“What?” She snaps.
“Just wondering when you’ll be joining us,” I say nonchalantly, leaning on the door frame.
She rolls her eyes, one day I’m going to punish her for that. I’m sure her pretty ass will look even better with a large red handprint on it. “I won’t be.”
“Wrong answer, kitten.”
In three strides I’m across the room, grabbing her ankle to drag her to the edge of the mattress.
“What the fuck!” She screams, using her other leg to try and kick at me. Everything about her is small, her tiny feet, her dainty hands, it makes me think she’s fragile, but then she kicks me straight in the gut, knocking the wind right out of me.
I grab her other ankle, sucking in air as my stomach aches with the kick she landed. She flails and lashes out and I can’t fucking get her to stop. With her screams echoing through the house, I get on the bed, pinning her on the mattress with my body.
“Stop fucking fighting me!” I yell.
“Fuck you!” The little kitten even tries to headbutt me, but I manage to move before her forehead connects with my nose. It would have been hard enough to break it. I straddle her thighs, keeping her pinned as I shove her hands above her head, glaring down at her.
“Are you going to behave?” I ask casually.
She blows out a breath, trying to move a strand of dark hair from her eyes, “Fuck off.” She huffs.
“Fine.” Moving her wrists into one hand, I take hold of them with a firm grip, almost losing it when she wriggles and thrashes but then one of my hands falls to her waist, to the slither of skin on show from where her sweater has risen up. Her flesh is warm and soft under my palm, and I can’t help it, I give her a little squeeze, watching as my fingers make indents into her. It’s not the time for another damn hard on.
“What are you doing?” She begins to panic, shaking her head frantically, “Please no!”
Shit.
“Stop it,” I growl, “I am not going to force myself on you, Olivia.”
She swallows, tears welling in her eyes and just for a minute a bloom of regret takes root in my chest. Not enough however to stop me from doing what I am about to do.
With her frozen, I quickly get off, dragging her with me before I hoist her up and over my shoulder.
The air rushes out of her lungs with a grunt and I’m almost out the door when she comes back to me.
“Get the hell off me!” She screeches, “Put me down, you asshole!”
Her tiny fists pound into the bottom of my back but I don’t shift her, I continue down the halls and then the stairs with her over my shoulder, her screaming bloody murder the whole time. It’s not until we get to the dining room, and I dump her ass into one of the chairs that she stops.
“I am going to kill you!” She wails.
Abe clears his throat, amusement lining his aged face.
“Olivia, I take it?” He muses, grinning like a fool at her.
She snaps her eyes to him, them widening as she realizes we have company to witness her little tantrum.
“Uh, hi?” She swallows, cringing.
“Don’t you worry about me, sweetheart, go ahead and drop him down a peg or two,” Abe leans back as Miranda scurries from the room to let the kitchen know we’re ready for dinner.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” She flicks her eyes to me and then back to my grandfather.
“Name’s Abraham,” he gets up and walks towards her, “You can call me, Abe, I’m his grandfather.”
“Grandfa – shit, hi!” She gets up promptly, grasping his hand in a firm shake. Well at least she’s nice to someone. It’s just me she doesn’t like.
Abe chuckles fondly, patting the top of her arm, “Come, come,” he gestures for her to follow him before he drags out the chair next to his and waits for her to sit before tucking it into the table and taking his own.
Stifling the roll of my eyes, I take the seat opposite them, spinning my glass on the coaster.
“Big day tomorrow,” My grandfather starts, “You nervous?”
Her shoulders stiffen but the manners that were taught to her, her whole life win over, “Not nervous per se,” she rolls her lips, “Hesitant.”
I chuckle into my glass, taking a sip as she struggles to remain polite.
“Mm,” Abe agrees, “I would be hesitant too if I was marrying that buffoon.”
“I am your grandson,” I point out, “You’re supposed to sing my praises, not offend me.”
“Are you offended?” Abe asks.
“No.”
“Exactly.”
Before he can continue his tirade to my future wife, dinner is brought in, an Italian dish my grandfather requested earlier in the day. Olivia is served first, then my grandfather and me, before a bottle of wine is placed in the center of the table.
I get up to grab the chilled bottle, leaning across to pluck up Olivia’s glass to pour it in.
“Thank you,” she says quietly, accepting the glass as I pass it back to her and go about pouring for my grandfather and me.
“I’ll be walking you down the aisle tomorrow,” My grandfather casually announces, “Don’t worry, I won’t let you trip.”
“You will?” She gasps.
“Malakai tells me you don’t have much family,” Abe says, digging into his food, “it would be an honor to hand you over to my grandson.”
“Oh.” Is all Olivia responds with.
The rest of dinner is mostly spent in silence with the casual words being had here and there and when the plates are cleared, I expect Olivia to run away but to my surprise she accepts another glass of wine and settles into an easy conversation with my grandfather.
I just choose to watch them, listening to her talk about her father’s hotel, which she is now the owner of, and all the travels she has taken with her best friend. It’s an unfiltered view of the woman in front of me, giving me a subtle glimpse into who she is.
My grandfather has always been a people person, he can get anyone to talk and be comfortable around him. It’s a gift, he likes to say, and a weapon. Secrets, he tells me, they’re the greatest currency and making someone trust him enough to spill their secrets is the best arsenal to have.
Olivia lights up as she speaks with him, especially when talking about her sister and best friend, but it makes me wonder just how many people are in Olivia’s life. After I’d looked into her, the only two names that were relevant were her sister and Willow.
She didn’t have many people in her corner, I realize and it’s probably part of the reason she so willingly threw herself into my hands to save her sister. If you don’t have much, you fear losing it far more greatly.
“I’ll see you at the end of the aisle,” Abe stands from the table with a soft smile aimed at Olivia.
She nods, “Yeah.” The word comes out as a whisper, “You will.”
“Chin up, sweetheart,” Abe knocks her chin fondly, “He’s not that bad.”
The most adorable little snort laugh leaves her at his words, and she flicks her eyes to me, letting them roll down my body with a mixture of disdain and disgust, “I’ll take your word on it.”
My grandfather chuckles, slaps me on the shoulder and exits the dining room, heading to his bedroom in the east wing of the house.
Olivia sips the remainder of her wine quietly, looking everywhere else but at me.
“Your stylists will be here at nine a.m.” I say, filling the silence, “Willow has been invited to join too.”
“Okay,” She answers.
“The ceremony shall begin at eleven in the garden room,” I keep going, finding it hard to stop just so I can keep her here for a bit longer. I know she’s about to flee at any moment.
“I’m sure I’ll make it there,” She replies dryly, “And if not, someone can drag me.”
I clear my throat, scrubbing a hand across my mouth to hide my grin, “Kitten, I’ve no problem throwing you over my shoulder to get you to the altar. You’re mine, no matter which way I have to make it happen.”
“Pig,” She snaps, getting up from the table abruptly.
“Goodnight Olivia,” I call after her.
Her response is flipping her middle finger over her shoulder, and I can’t help the chuckle it brings.
And when I head to bed that night, I’m delighted to see she’s upgraded from simply turning down my bed.
My pillows are thrown across the floor, the sheets a balled-up mess tossed into the corner with some sort of liquid on them that looks like shower soap from my ensuite, and my mattress is somewhat half on and half off the bed base.
Olivia’s tantrums seem to be chaotic, like she tries hard to be destructive but the most she can do is a little bit of mess that’ll take no time to clean.
It doesn’t even register on my scale of annoyance, not when I can smell that sweet scent of her still lingering in my space.
I straighten out my bedroom and then cross the hall. I’d gone in the night before while she was sleeping, just to see, just to watch as she dreamed but I won’t have such luck tonight.
The door doesn’t budge when I push on it this time, and since there isn’t a lock on this door, I wonder if she barricaded it like she said she did the night before.
Such a shame.
But it doesn’t matter now. I could go the next seven hours without seeing her. After tomorrow, as soon as that ring is on her finger she won’t be in a separate room. She’ll be in my bed. Under my sheets.
There will be no hiding from me.