Chapter 7
seven
Gabriel
H ow Olivia reacts to my apartment is important and I try to imagine the foyer through her eyes. My home has gone through a number of different styles since Mom purchased the building and I moved here after college. Long gone is the bachelor pad, although at times I miss the casual, ragged comfort of the hand me down furniture.
Also gone is any lingering frou-frou design from the only time I thought I was in love. I’d been a dumb, infatuated fool and allowed her free rein. Turns out she didn’t love me. Just my money. When I discovered her ‘entertaining’ a friend in one of the spare bedrooms, she—and her decorating—was kicked to the curb. At least she’d had the decency not to use ‘our’ bed.
Over the past five years I’ve slowly created a place that feels good to me. After Mom’s passing, I brought a few pieces here from my childhood home, pieces that remind me of her. Now this is my sanctuary. What I want is someone to share the space with, to make a home and family.
Until yesterday, I’d had no prospects. In fact, since the froofy debacle, I haven’t brought a woman to my private space. My hand cupping her elbow, I escort Olivia from the elevator and repeat my welcome.
“Wow,” she says as she turns in a circle taking in the wide planked wood floor and the hand-painted art deco wallpaper. Flanked by tall, potted palms, each bathed by special grow lights, a wide archway leads into the apartment. “Wow.”
So far so good. I lead her toward the open living area and give her the nickel tour. “You can explore later, once you’ve rested.” I wave toward a set of double doors on the far side of the room. “My suite. I also have an office slash library there.”
Pink rises to infuse her cheeks. “Is that where?—”
“The guest rooms are over here,” I say guiding her toward the kitchen and the hallway hidden behind the wall of appliances. “You can take your pick of any of the suites, and settle in. We’ll talk after you’re rested. Until then I’ll be working in the library.”
I stand in the center of the hall as she moves from one door to the another. She peeks into each room, then turns back to me with wide eyes. A soft chime sounds and she jumps, her eyes going even wider.
“That’s just, um, my doorbell, I guess. Probably your suitcases. Go on and choose a room and I’ll be right back.”
I double check the video panel in the kitchen to verify it is security with her things then meet the man in the vestibule. As I pull the suitcases toward the guest rooms I’m saddened by how little she has. The ache in my chest blossoms. I want to give her anything she needs, everything she desires. But I need to go slow. She’s proud and I’m sure anything that feels like charity will be refused.
Pausing, I tap my fingers on the worn handle of one of the suitcases. If—when she accepts the job offer, she’ll discover I expect perfection in the photo shoots and from the models. It won’t be a cushy, easy job. Definitely not charity. I need to remember that once she has money in her bank account, she’ll undoubtedly be looking for somewhere to live. I have to accept that even though my heart breaks just a little at the thought.
Holding on to what’s mine isn’t going to be easy with this strong willed, determined woman. I look forward to every moment.
She’s attracted to me. The signs are unmistakable but I’m not sure she recognizes them beyond the initial pull between us. I need to keep my head. Go slow. Allow her to take most of the control in the speed of our relationship.
I grin. There’s no reason why I can’t give subtle nudges to guide us in the right direction.
First though, she needs to have her personal space. To feel safe with me. I find her sitting on the bed in the furthest bedroom. “Here’s your bags,” I say as I enter and roll the cases close to the large, antique wardrobe that serves as a closet.
“Thank you. You’re sure this is okay? This is such a grand room. Nicer than anywhere I’ve ever stayed.”
Again I attempt to see through her perception of the room. A few of Mom’s favorite pieces fill the space with dark wood. Subtle floral fabrics cover the bed and windows. Grand perhaps, still it fills me with a sense of home. “I find this room peaceful. It’s a good choice.”
“Yes, it is calming. I sure need that right now.”
“There should be everything you need in the bath. Make a list if you want anything else. I’ll be in the library if you need anything. Take as long as you need to rest and relax. We’ll order in food whenever because I’m pretty sure there isn’t much of anything worth eating in the fridge.”
She chuckles. “Not much of a cook?”
“Nope. If it doesn’t come in a box or a microwavable wrapper, I’m pretty much hopeless.”
“No wonder they know you so well at the restaurant. I can cook. If I have ingredients to cook with.”
She gives me half a smile, warming me and sending blood straight to my dick. I need to leave. “We’ll make a list.”
“You love your lists, don’t you?”
The gentle teasing brings my grin. She’s becoming more comfortable with me. I nod. “Keeps me on track. Rest, Livi. We’ll talk later.”
I back from the room, pulling the door closed after me. After staring at the wood for a long moment I start a mental list topped with the heading, Why I love Olivia.
Late in the afternoon, there’s a soft knock on the office door and I temper my grin. I’ve been waiting, anticipating this moment for hours. Olivia. “Come on in.”
I’m still arranging notes in the file with my back to the door when she enters but I sense her stopping just a few steps inside the room. Dropping the file to the desk, I turn. She’s standing there, her hair still damp from a shower. She wears a short, threadbare robe cinched tightly at her waist, the upper lapels pulled across the swell of her breasts. She wiggles her bare toes against the thick Persian carpet.
“I… I’ve come to thank you. For everything you’ve done today. To help me, I mean.”
She’s come to thank me?
Her hands hover over the knot in the tie at her waist. “I appreciate your kindness, Gabe.”
Oh no. As much as my dick is enjoying the view of her shapely legs and how her full hips are barely covered by worn terrycloth, I won’t allow her to go…there. I stalk toward her.
She catches her lower lip between her teeth and I choke back a groan. This is going to kill me. “Olivia.”
“You’ve been so kind to me. Helpful when you didn’t have to be. I mean, we only met yesterday.”
“And I lost you your job. Et cetera et cetera. We’ve been over this too many times already. I’m in the position to help, so that’s what I’m doing. I don’t need anything more than the satisfaction of doing that.”
Okay, so it’s only a little bit of a lie. I need, ache desperately for a different kind of satisfaction from this woman. But not this way. Not for this reason.
“We shared a kiss before.”
My dick leaps to attention. “Yes, Livi, we did. I’m not sure it was the best idea.”
Life drains from her expression and I rush to take back my faux pas. “The kiss was good, so good. I’d like the opportunity to… It was the timing. You were, you still are rebounding from losing your job and your apartment. You’re confused and don’t know?—”
She stomps her foot. “Do not be telling me I’m confused. That I don’t know what I’m doing. Or what and why I’m feeling what I’m feeling. I know perfectly well what I’m doing. You’re a guy. Who did something for me. Okay, a number of things, both good and bad. I know what you want.”
I fake an angry scowl and angle to tower over her. “Are you sure? Perhaps you don’t need to be telling me what I’m thinking or wanting either.”
She doesn’t give an inch and that fills my chest with pride. She’s stronger than she thinks.
Crossing her arms, she glares at me. “So, you’re saying, with that thick bulge in your jeans, that you don’t want to fuck me? Get your rocks off as payback for all those nice things you did for me today? You’re a guy. What else would you expect? Or maybe you just want me on my knees so you can fuck my mouth. At least that part of me isn’t fat.”
She whirls and races from the room. What the fuck was that all about? I’m disappointed, even though I know she sought me out to offer sex to repay the debt she thinks I’ll hold over her. But what the hell just happened? Fat? Fucking hell. How has she been treated—used—by men in the past?
How do I help her see I’m not one of them?