Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sloane
The minute we get in my car, Oliver’s mouth is on mine and he’s crawling into my lap.
I smirk, loving these little moments. The ones hidden behind closed, locked doors.
Sometimes I think it would be easier to be out, but I also like to hold on to as much privacy as I can.
Not just because of my shareholders or company matters, but because there are very few things I can claim for myself in this way.
And I want Oliver all to myself. I want to keep him as part of my personal oasis. My sweet little Rabbit.
I move to grab his cock, but he swats my hand away.
For a moment, I think perhaps he’s going to take charge and lead me, but he doesn’t.
His kiss turns from frenzied to something much more pronounced.
Slow, passionate. He grabs my jaw, his fingers trailing along my trimmed facial hair.
He holds my neck with care, with reverence.
I know it makes no sense. Oliver and I have only known one another for barely a week, but…
My mother always told me, before she died, that one day I’d know. I’d meet the woman who would rewrite my code. And when I’d find her, I’d know.
The same way she and my father knew when they met one another, that there would never be anyone else.
My father kept that promise until he shot himself.
Chickadee said he died from a broken heart.
After my mother died, he became a shell of the person he was.
Without her, there was no point. I didn’t matter enough for him to stay, and part of me always resented that, but…
the small, hopeful part of me felt a strange satisfaction that in the end, he’d chosen her.
Because she was the love of his life. Not me, not his inventions, not his relentless corporate pursuits that left us with thousands of dollars in debt, at the time.
I’d never believed her, then. My mother.
I was young and sure I knew everything. Parker had just moved away to continue law school, and so I rationed that love didn’t exist for people like me. People who lived in the shadows. People who couldn’t love others without a list of rules and guidelines to adhere to.
But I knew as I looked at Oliver across the table today as Ericson told me Phantom was operational, that she was right.
I knew when I looked at him then, that there would never be anyone else.
No one would ever compare to Oliver Green and his sharp wit, his wicked little tongue, and his sweet, soft heart.
His forehead falls against mine, and he lets out a heavy breath.
“Just… kiss me," he says softly. “Kiss me like it’s the last time you’re ever going to kiss me.”
I look up into his verdant gaze. Something about the words feel heavy, almost melancholy, but when I see the sparkle in them, I can’t deny him.
The words that fall out of my mouth are mine, but they are not.
They are my voice, and I feel them, but… they come from some other part of me. A part of me no one else knows, and I don’t think anyone else ever will know it.
Just him.
I slide my hands through his hair as I kiss him with every fibre of my being and whisper those two words I never thought I’d say to any man.
“Yes, Sir.”
I kiss his lips softly. I pull his bottom lip between my teeth and gently nip at it before I kiss it and suck it gently.
I kiss the side of his mouth, his neck, that spot just below his ear which makes him shiver.
I take his hand from my neck and press my lips to his palm.
Popping the buttons on his collar, I slide my hand over the open space and kiss his collarbone.
I kiss his hair, his mouth again, and then I pull him tight against my chest and kiss his temple, his smooth hair tickling my nose.
Oliver wraps his arms around me, and for a moment we stay just like that. Him straddling me in my driver’s seat, arms and limbs entangled around me like a damn monkey around a tree, but I have never felt more content in all my life.
“We should go,” he murmurs into my shirt, and I nod.
“Yes.”
I gently shift him, and he follows my lead, sitting back in his seat. The whole way back to my house, he is quiet. Quieter than usual. I settle my hand on his thigh and squeeze him gently and his hand finds mine with ease. He doesn’t squeeze, but his grip is tight. I can tell that he is nervous.
I feel my phone buzz in my pocket, but I absentmindedly lock it and ignore it.
Whoever it is can wait. Right now, I want to spend the next few hours with my little rabbit.
I’d given a lot of thought to this, ever since that day at the tailors.
My worry about whether or not a relationship with Oliver would work still hovers in the distance, but…
The ache of not knowing if it would wins out. Today, Oliver not only showed up for me, he showed up for Veil. For Phantom.
He fits into my life so perfectly it’s like he was made to be there. I believe that a relationship with Oliver Green will work.
If he is willing to accept me and all my shadowed facets, I will gladly submit to him in all things. If he wants this—if he wants me the way I want him— it is worth the risk.
When we get to my house, I turn the car off, and for a moment we just sit there, in silence. Companionable, warm silence. I look at him carefully.
“You can still change your mind," I say. “It isn’t too late, you know.”
Oliver looks at me, his vibrant gaze determined and full of something that shakes me to my core.
Because I know in that one look, he knows it too. He knows the words that are caught in my throat. The truth neither of us speak.
I’ve never told another man I love him. Ever. I’d always told myself love didn’t exist for me, and therefore, none of the men I’d been with or the subs I served ever heard such endearments from me.
But here I sit with Oliver, and I want to say them. I want to scream them from the bloody rooftops, privacy be damned.
But I need to tread carefully, too. I’d told him he was perfect, and he safe-worded. He started to cry.
I’m certain Oliver has never heard those words from a man, either, and I know saying them for the first time is just as delicate as hearing for the first time. So I don’t say them. Not yet.
There are other ways, after all, to express oneself.
So I get up and exit the car. I open his door. I offer him my hand and he takes it and I pull him into my arms and kiss him until I can’t breathe.
Oliver settles in my arms, his fingertips tracing the edge of my facial hair. His Stone Timeworks watch—which I’d outfitted with both Veil and Ghost—is cool against my skin.
I will have to tell him eventually about my surveillance. About Robert. I’d hoped to have this discussion sooner, but part of me worries Oliver will not see my concerns and instead be offended by my need to keep him safe.
When I was young, before my mother died, my father had made the error of making some bad investments with some very bad people. His need to get his invention—a primitive version of the doorbell camera—into the hands of men he deemed influential, won out over concerns of safety.
Though we’d had a home security system, the technology wasn’t quite there yet to be as quick to alert the police.
We’d come home from dinner to an empty, trashed house, just as one of the thugs was speeding off in the getaway car.
The police showed up nearly twenty minutes later, due to the late alarm.
We lost everything that day, and I learned firsthand the true value of materials.
Things could be bought and replaced, but security could never be replaced.
The feeling of being safe would never return.
Not until I had found a way to truly keep people safe.
Not until I learned to be the smartest person in the room.
Everyone thinks Veil was just some half-cooked idea I’d formed in college, because that’s what I told everyone.
The only person who knows the truth is Chickadee.
Because that was how she met my parents—as the insurance agent who processed the numbers and figures of our life and boiled my father’s work down to a paragraph on a piece of paper.
To her we weren’t just papers, though. We were a family in need of peace of mind that would never truly return.
I did all I could to keep my family safe.
I learned to hack. I learned to build. I learned how to be inconspicuous and I learned how to not only make threats, but act on them.
And I learned how to not only be the smartest person in the room, but the one with the biggest dick.
Dominance would always win up against the wicked.
Because in the end, even criminals have no sense of security.
But there is also a fine line between protecting those I care about and stalking them.
I’m uncertain if Oliver will see my reason, and if he will feel violated.
I worry telling him the truth will erase his sense of security.
But perhaps it is a risk I need to take.
If he is angry with me, he can be angry.
As long as he is safe…
I open my door and he walks in slowly. The lights come on automatically and he lets out a heavy breath as he takes in the sight of my humble abode.
“Holy fuck, Sloane, it’s—”
“Dark, yes, I know.” I roll my eyes. I know my aesthetic can be a bit much for people. Chickadee says I was born with a black heart—jokingly, of course—but sometimes I think she couldn’t be more on the money.
Black is the essence of color. It is everything and nothing. It is the true veil-darkness. It is the place where phantoms and ghosts reside.
It is where I live both physically and metaphorically.
The overhead chandelier glistens as the sun sets, casting an almost neon glow onto the black glass walls.
Most people would balk at an open glass house, but my home is a fortress.
It is outfitted with a myriad of unauthorized tech. The version of Veil used to protect my home is modified with Ghost and the base source code of the first iteration of Phantom. Nothing and no one gets past my castle wall.
Unless I say so.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it again. I will deal with Ericson and his updates later.
“Would you like a tour?” I ask humorously.
Oliver nods, gazing at all the architecture.
“It’s so beautiful…” He sighs. “Like something straight out of a science fiction movie.”
“Why, thank you. I was going for Greek Tragedy meets Computer Nerd, so…”
Oliver chuckles.
“Well, I think you knocked it out of the park, then.” He smirks at me.
“Come.” I offer him my hand, and he takes it gingerly.
I show him everything. The kitchen, the lab. The open living room and study. My bedroom, the bathroom, and then we finally come to the last room, the one I am most nervous about.
I know this is a big step. Showing Oliver the parts of me I often hide. Showing him the room only I have ever been in.
If he accepts this, I will tell him the truth. I will bear my little black heart and my secrets to Oliver and I will do whatever it takes to make him understand that I am absolutely one hundred percent in love with him.
If Oliver accepts this, he accepts me.
But if he doesn’t…
If he doesn’t, he will never return here, and I will end this right now.
Because I can’t go further with Oliver if I can’t give him all that I am.
If I can’t submit to him completely. I will always want more.
I will always long to serve him in the way he serves me, because I have been poisoned by his sweetness, his sugar.
“What’s this room?” he asks.
I hold his gaze.
“What is your safeword?” I ask carefully. He narrows his gaze at me.
“Jabberwocky.”
“Good. Remember, you can use it anytime, Oliver,” I stress as best I can to him.
“I know that, but why—”
“Because this room is not just a room," I say, letting out a heavy sigh. “It is who I am.”
His eyebrows narrow. “I don’t understand, I—”
I push the door open gingerly. It’s dark inside, but as soon as we enter the light will come on. Oliver stares into the darkness, waiting.
“Go on," I say, my voice still and steady despite the nerves I feel.