Chapter Eleven
" O live!" he calls out, a broad smile breaking across his face. His eyes widen in surprise as they lock onto mine, and for a moment, it feels as if time stands still. There's a genuine warmth in his expression that suggests he’s pleased to see me. Judging by the look on his face, he truly enjoys surprises. Well, maybe not this particular surprise I’m about to drop.
“What’s going on?” he asks, though his voice loses some of its earlier cheerfulness as he notices my hands gripping his laptop, half-opened, something he was not expecting. His posture shifts, a hint of tension creeping into his frame.
Although he stands firmly in place, anchored before Adam who watches me with a look of confusion, it's clear he’s uncertain about how to respond. I can see a glint of concern in his eyes. My face feels flushed with anger, the heat radiating through me as I run the situation in my head. The thought of someone shadowing my every move gets on my nerves.
There’s a reason I’ve chosen to limit my presence on social media platforms: my need for privacy is paramount.
Why is he doing this? Doesn’t he trust me at all? The sheer absurdity of it all makes me question his entire self. How can he be so insecure, so pathetically doubtful that he feels the need to seek reassurance from others? The image of someone else sending him updates and photos of my daily life is maddening, and the fact that it’s his driver is utterly ridiculous.
As I approach them, I feel the words piling in my throat, my mind running with what to say first, but everything is tangled in my head, mixed with the overwhelming emotions of—I don’t even know how to call this shit.
“Love—” Nathaniel tries to speak.
“ Love? ” I mock his tone, “I’m not Adam’s little whore anymore, huh?” I say, placing the laptop on the coffee table in front of him and opening the screen wider, making sure it is in the perfect angle for him to see. I stand there in front of him, arms crossed over my ribcage. He looks at me straight, his posture upright, firm.
“Olivia, what’s wrong with you?” Adam looks in my direction, his voice coming out utterly confused, but I don’t shift. I don’t even look at him. I keep my eyes on Nathan, who leans forward with one hand to his chin.
I wait for him to take a good look at it. He takes a couple of seconds to analyse the screen without saying a word, and when he finally lifts his gaze, he smirks. He fucking smirks .
Adam sighs in frustration.
“Can anyone tell me what the hell is going on?” he asks, exasperated.
“You can ask Nate about it. Right, Nate ?” The way I say his name comes testy, my tone is ironic. Calling him like this is unlike me. But I guess this little whore is done with him. Nathaniel goes back to his signature straight posture.
“Adam, could you leave me alone with Miss James?” he requests, more like orders with the way he says it. His voice remains calm. Adam turns to look at me, unsure of what to do.
“Is it ok for me to leave?” he asks me, trying to know if I would prefer him to stay. Sweet, but I don’t need him. I don’t need any of them.
I nod. And with that, he leaves, not bothering to look at the screen on the coffee table, not telling his brother he knows about us and there’s no need to pretend anymore. Maybe it’s implicit at this point.
He taps Nathaniel’s shoulder, murmurs something inaudible to me, and he leaves without even glancing back. My arms are crossed tight as if I’m holding myself together, but my expression is hard, unrelenting.
“Love, it’s—” he begins, but I cut him off, my voice sharp. I don’t need his excuses.
“Why is your driver following me, Nathaniel?” My words hang in the air, but he looks at me. No denial, no confession. Just that steady, infuriating gaze.
“Are you so insecure,” I snap, my voice breaking, “that you need to send your driver to spy on me? Don’t you trust me at all?” My voice rises, trembling with the hurt I can’t contain. “What are all these photos of your brother and me?” I gesture to the open laptop, to the cold evidence of his invasion of my privacy.
“You could have asked me!” I cry, my voice desperate. “I’ve got nothing to hide! But this—this is rock bottom, Nathaniel.” My voice drops, thick with bitterness. “Is this why you disappeared these past days? Is this why you treated your brother like he meant nothing just now?” I feel my chest tighten, my voice cracking.
“You know what? I’m such a fool. I came here to surprise you, and instead, I ended up surprising myself. Good job at making me realize how wrong I was about you.” My voice breaks completely, raw and exposed. “I regret coming here. I regret all of this.”
He stands there, calm, untouched, watching me. He narrows his eyes at my words, a slight twitch at most, but nothing more. Nothing .
And it drives me mad, the way he stands there like he’s made of stone, unaffected, unbreakable. The way he doesn’t even care enough to react. I can feel the pain tearing me apart, but he just remains there looking at me as if I’m nothing. He doesn’t care, does he? He truly doesn’t give a damn.
After a couple of seconds of quietness, Nathan breaks.
“Are you done?” A slight smirk creeps on his lips as he approaches me, slowly, almost counting his steps.
“Don’t you dare to come closer to me.” I glare.
“Or what?” Nathaniel dares, a grin plastered on his face, as if all this is a joke to him.
“I’ll scream,” I threaten.
“Go ahead,” he responds almost immediately, opening his arms halfway, inviting me to do as I said. He challenges me.
But I do nothing. I remain there quiet, hiding with every fibre of my body how small I feel in this moment, under his gaze.
“I see,” he says, “can I talk, now?” The audacity. His voice comes out steady, controlled, civil. I say nothing, my expression loaded with disbelief.
He sighs. “Fine.” His body gets near mine, closing the short gap between us as he leans to my ear.
“First.” He pauses, his breath hitting that spot between my ear and my neck, sending shivers down my spine. He gently takes my hair length in his hand.
“Who gave you the right to go through my things?” His voice is low, I sense how he is intending to turn tables.
I open my mouth to speak, but I gasp as Nathaniel pulls my hair in a sudden tug, making my head go backwards. My chin is now tilted up in his direction, my eyes looking into his. I drown a yelp. I’m not showing him any further pain. I try to play strong, even if his pull is firm on my ponytail. I don’t speak, my expression flat.
“You don’t talk now, huh?” he asks. “You think you can storm out of a room and create the scene you just did?” He pulls my hair tighter, and I let out a soft whimper. He reduces the distance between us even more.
“Four days apart was enough for you to turn into this—” He pauses himself, looking into my eyes as if searching for the right words to say, and then he smirks. “This naughty little whore .”
I roll my eyes at him, and somehow it only deepens the amusement in his expression. Nathan's smirk shifts into an unmistakable grin, that infuriating grin of his.
“You had no right to have anyone follow me,” I manage to protest. My voice barely rises above a whisper as his grip on my hair tightens.
“Shhh,” Nathan hushes, pressing his index finger gently over my lips. There’s a deliberate calmness in his demeanour. “You’re way ahead of yourself.”
“Oh, am I?” I ask sarcastically, twisting to break free from his grip, but my efforts are in vain.
“No, please. I’m enjoying this,” he replies, a playful tone in his voice that sends a flutter of unease through me. It dawns on me that he’s enjoying this moment far more than I’d like to admit.
“Well I’m not. Stop,” I insist, a hint of desperation creeping into my tone. He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear.
“You sure you want me to?” he murmurs, weaving a sensation of pleasure and discomfort that leaves me speechless.
“What if,” he pauses, drawing out the anticipation, “what if I told you that all this isn’t quite about you the way you think it is?”
I frown, confusion gnawing at me.
“What about the photos, huh? Am I making them up?” I ask, knowing there’s no way I got it wrong.
“I didn’t expect to see you in them,” he explains, tracing my jawline with his finger gently. “You see, Peter’s been tailing Adam for quite some time now. If you want the full story, I can share it, but,” he hesitates, his eyes narrowing, “it did drive me insane to watch him kiss your lips without me having any power to do anything.” He pauses. “Yes, love. I saw that. And I was this close of taking the first plane home. But I didn’t. I would have ruined his face for touching you, and his life for kissing you. You don’t belong to anyone, love. Anyone, but me. ”
Before I can react, he presses his lips to my neck, a soft yet electrifying touch that leaves me feeling weak and vulnerable, as if the ground beneath me has shifted.
“And yet you dared to call me his little whore,” I remind him, and he breaks his kiss. He turns me around so my back is pressing against his chest.
“No,” he murmurs to my ear. “That you assumed, owning the title yourself. I would have never talked about you like that. But—” His voice is low, hoarse. He pauses, pressing his front against me. “Hearing you say it, it’s making my cock stir in my pants.”
I breathe deeply, trying to control myself from the urges of him I’ve been building inside.
“You’re resisting me, aren’t you?” he whispers. His left hand wraps around my neck, while his right hand keeps a hold of my hair. His hips start thrusting hard against me.
“You really think you can resist me, my sweet little whore?” His voice is obscene, unlike his decent, polite self. It’s like something has entirely shifted in him, and besides the confusion mixed with anger I’m feeling, I desire him. My body reacts to his every touch, as if waiting for what his next command will be.
He places his hand on my upper back, and I feel how he slides the zipper of my dress down to my waist, showing my lace bra. His hand smoothly caresses me, his gaze not breaking contact as his fingers slide inside, pulling the thin fabric down and exposing my naked breasts, tight at the sudden cold change in temperature. His hand traces a path from my waist, up to my chest.
The touch of his warm hand against my skin makes me gasp. He grabs me firmly as he breathes into my ear.
“I see you like that. Show me how much you’ve missed me.”
He slides his hand down my body. His grip on my hair is strong, loaded with lust and dominance, making my back arch. I feel his shaft getting hard inside his pants and pressing even harder against my rear. I let out a whimper when his hand reaches my thigh, his fingers pulling my knickers to the side.
He groans in my ear.
“Is it the way I’m treating you now? Is that making you this wet for me?” He makes me look toward our reflection on the mirror-covered wall to my left.
“Look at you, love. You’re dripping.”
He lifts my leg, my foot resting on the little table next to the sofa. I look at him, his hand caressing my sex, circling around it. He places two fingers inside me and looks at my reflection, his eyes charged with lust. I can't see the sweet Nathaniel anymore.
He pulls his fingers out of me slowly, and a transparent thread, proof of my wetness, lingers around them. The sheer look of it makes me moan softly. The way he trails his eyes over me is getting me on edge. I feel how a part of my reaction is controlled by the way he looks at me. The weight of his gaze is not invasive, it’s not odd or leaves me with uneasiness. Somehow, it’s making me feel admired—a kind of admiration I haven't felt before.
He puts his fingers back inside me slowly, but intensifying with each thrust. The mix of his eyes on me, his grip on my body, and the look of my reflection in the mirror has me overstimulated. I'm about to beg for more of him, but he stops. Abruptly. His fingers slide away from me, leaving me wanting.
He pulls back, releasing his grip on my hair. He covers my naked chest, arranging my dress back on me. He places his hands behind my waist and smooths the back of my dress, zipping it up in one fluid motion.
“Get ready,” he says, his voice calm but commanding. “I’ve got plans, and you’re coming with me.”
“What?” I complain with my breath still uneven.
“You thought you’d be rewarded after that little show you put on? Not yet, Olive. I might have to teach you some manners, first,” he says adjusting himself. He checks his watch. “Ten minutes, I’ll be waiting right here. And keep the dress.” He slides his phone out from his pocket, tapping the screen before pressing it to his ear.
I watch him in disbelief, feeling the heat he’s left behind. I try to control my breathing as I stand there. But the good girl in me is not there anymore. If he wants to play like this, I’m going to give him something to play with.
He begins talking on his phone, and I keep my gaze locked on him as I lift my dress to my waist, fingers sliding to each side beneath the lace of my panties. I slowly peel them down, revealing what he’s chosen to deny himself. His words falter mid-sentence, his eyes freeze on me as I retrieve my panties from the floor and step toward him, sliding them into his inner jacket pocket.
“I’m ready,” I whisper, savouring the flicker of frustration and intrigue on his face.
Nathaniel’s eyes narrow, his lips curving into a smirk as I brush past him toward the door, granting him a short glance over my shoulder. Without missing a beat, he resumes his conversation, only to say he will call back later. I then feel his presence behind me, following me into the elevator, his demeanour composed.
Inside the elevator, the air feels thick with tension, a palpable energy crackling in the confined space. I steal a glance at him, noticing his hands buried deep within the pockets of his tailored jacket.
Finally, his gaze locks onto mine, igniting a spark deep within me that I can’t ignore. Driven by an impulse I can't quite explain, I reach over and press the stop button to my left, abruptly halting our descent. The elevator jolts, and he glances around. He frowns, searching for the source of the sudden interruption. When his eyes find me, the frown morphs into a playful smirk, the corners of his lips curling with a mix of curiosity and challenge.
He doesn’t move, and stands there, paying close attention to my every move. I enjoy his sense of observation. The way his eyes follow me feels detailed, almost as if he were filling all the blanks on his brain.
I step closer to him, my hand finding its way to his neck. I look deep into his eyes. His smirk is still there, and his eyes are delighted. My thumb traces the sharp line of his jaw.
“Are you sure you want to keep this little reward waiting?” I ask, my voice sultry.
“Do you realize there are cameras in here? Someone—beside me—is most likely watching you doing this,” he murmurs, though his voice betrays a hint of intrigue.
“You don’t say.” My voice comes out a whisper as my hand slips inside his jacket, trailing down to the waistband of his trousers. His breath catches, his composed self cracking ever so slightly.
He tilts his head, his expression amused.
“Does it turn you on, being seen?”
I don’t respond and unbutton his pants, smoothly getting my hand inside. I curl my fingers around his shaft, keeping my eyes locked with his, observing him. He grunts as I stroke him, feeling the tension radiate from his body. He cups my face, pulling me closer, his lips barely brushing mine. But then I pull away with a sly smile.
I hit the button again, resuming our descent. I glance at him as he takes a breath, gathering his composure, arousal barely concealed.
“What? You thought you were getting a reward?” I ask, taunting him with a smirk.
He meets my gaze, his eyes dark and unreadable. A single strand of dark blond hair falls over his forehead. He lets out a low chuckle, adjusting himself and tucking his shirt back into place.
“You want to play games, huh?” he murmurs, challenging.
The elevator dings, the doors sliding open to the lobby. Nathaniel’s posture shifts effortlessly. He places a hand on my lower, back guiding me forward. His expression is neutral to anyone watching, while the burning intensity between us lingers. I walk next to him, and I see how many women turn their heads, fixing their eyes on him. Is this a family thing?
Nathan, still with his hand behind me, walks toward the reception and addresses one of the girls.
“Hello, Laura. Could you ask Tom to bring the car to the main entrance, please?” His voice is sweet, his posture straight.
“Yes, Mr. Martens,” the woman says, and Nathaniel looks at me and winks. I giggle as I remember how I called him this the first time we met, and now he enjoys it a little too much. I smile at his expression and walk toward the entrance with him following behind.
As we are waiting for his car to arrive, I look around, breathing in the cold air outside. I turn to look at Nathaniel and he is staring at me with a grin.
“Yes, I love this weather,” I declare, without him even asking.
“I see that.”
A second later, we see a shiny black Bentley stopping in front of us. I hesitate for a moment before approaching. A young man steps out of the car, wearing the hotel’s uniform.
“Hello, Mr. Martens,” he says, handing the keys of the car to Nathaniel.
“Thank you, Tom.” He takes the keys of the car and gives him a discreet handshake.
“No. Thank you, sir!” He smiles and puts a hand inside his pocket. Nathan stands there next to the car, looking at me, his wide, charming smile lighting up his face. With a playful tilt of his head, he invites me over, and I follow, smiling my way down the steps towards the car.
I open the door and sink into the passenger seat, the interior reminding me so much of his car back home. Does he have the same car everywhere he goes? He shifts the car in drive and leaves the entrance of the hotel behind. I don’t say a word and look around the inside of the vehicle.
“It belonged to my father.”
“What?”
“The car. I keep it here for every time I come.”
“Oh, I see. It looks so much like the car you let me drive.
“I know,” he says, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.
From Adam, I learned that their father passed away, and that Nathan didn’t have the best relationship with him. Does he think about his father often? Was their relationship the way Adam sees it?
There’s a silence between us while Nathan drives and I look at him, trying to decipher his gaze. Even if he is looking straightforward, there’s something about his expression; restrained, holding.
He places his warm hand on my thigh, near the end of my dress, his fingers brushing the inner part of my thigh lightly.
“Good Lord, I missed you.” His hand grips my thigh firmly. I smile without saying a word, and I see him glance at me briefly. “And you don’t even speak. God, I’m loving this,” he lets out sarcastically, making me laugh.
I roll my eyes at him.
“You know–you haven’t told me. Why do you have Peter follow Adam? I still find it hard to believe.”
“Oh, that.” He sighs “It’s actually not me.” He pauses. “Adam wants to be part of the board, and they all want to make sure he is actually clean and responsible enough.”
“Who are they ?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“The rest of the board,” he responds.
“Aren’t you at the head of the board?” I look at him, my body shifting lightly.
“I am,” he declares.
“And do you think following him is necessary?” My tone comes out judgy.
“I do,” he says, and there’s not a slight hint of regret in his voice.
Odd silence fills the enclosed space. I don’t agree on invading someone’s privacy like that. Adam might as well know he is being followed, and understand the conditions of it, but there’s no point in me arguing that situation with Nathaniel. He has already made his choice and if I know him well, things are always done on his terms. Ugh, sometimes I think that he might need a taste of his own medicine.
“Where are we going?” I break the silence.
“We’re meeting some board members for dinner.” He pauses. “It’s boring, though, that’s why I’m dragging you along to entertain me.” He smirks and glances at me to size my reaction.
I lift an eyebrow.
“Is it part of my functions as your new little whore?”
“I might need to draw a contract for that.” And we both laugh at the joke.
Nathaniel stops the car in front of a gated house and taps in a number to a keypad by the gate. The gates open and he drives in, parking next to a couple of cars.
He stops and unbuckles his seat belt. shifting in his seat to look at me. He puts his hand inside his jacket, pulling my lace knickers in his hand.
“Do you want to put these on before leaving the car?”
“Hmm, I don’t,” I say, unbuckling my seat belt and opening the door almost at the same time. He comes out of the car with a smile on his face, putting my panties inside his pocket again. We stand next to each other in front of the door.
“Please, behave.” he mutters to my ear.
Please, behave? Is he serious?
He pushes the door open with one hand, inviting me to step in first. In the hall there’s a young, gorgeous woman walking to the door.
“Nate!” she says happily, surprised. “The bad boy in disguise.” And she hugs him, pressing a hand against his chest. There’s something familiar about her, but I shake the thought as soon as I hear her call him the bad boy in disguise , with a seductive voice. If all his work colleagues are like this, he might be having a little too much fun at work. She breaks apart—still extremely close to him. His expression is flat, distanced, almost uncomfortable. And I stand there like a fly, watching the scene in front of me.
She looks in my direction.
“And–you are?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.
I smirk. I don’t want to behave. As I open my mouth to reply I’m his new little whore , her words are faster than mine.
“Oh! You’re Adam’s friend!” she says. She goes past Nathan and gets near the door behind us. “Did he come with you, Nate?”
“No, Diane,” he says. “It’s only me and Miss James.”
Diane …DIANE! From the wedding rehearsal! The bride. The bride of their brother.
Oh Jesus Christ, where am I?
My eyes widen, but I try to keep my expression neutral when Nathaniel gives me a quick look. Is this the reason why he asked me to behave ? I decide to play it nice and obey.
“It’s actually Olivia!” I pause and offer my hand to greet her “It’s a pleasure.” But she half-smiles without accepting my hand. She is not helping me keep my behaviour in line.
“I don’t get it.” She pauses, ignoring me and directing her eyes to Nathan. “What are you doing here with Adam’s friend ?”
Nathaniel looks at her without saying anything. An odd silence fills the hall for a few seconds, and I don’t know where to look.
“Oh—” Diane says. “I didn’t know you and Adam were into sharing women, again .” She pauses herself, finally looking at me. “Lucky girl.”
“Stop!” Nathaniel finally breaks composure. “Where is Sascha?” he asks, his voice now lower, calmed.
My ears stop listening, my mind sinks deeper and deeper. What does she mean, they are sharing women? Again ? I know for a fact they are not sharing me. Is this something they do? This is twisted.
What’s with her reaction? Lucky girl . Is being shared supposed to be a good thing? Not for me. Where the fuck am I?
Diane doesn’t look at me anymore and Nathaniel doesn’t have any intention to explain. He doesn’t even address her comment. Only a simple stop . I feel like all I need are answers at this point.
While Diane looks at Nathaniel, there’s a shade of disappointment in her face. I wonder if Adam is still involved with her. There’s an unsettling aura about this woman that draws me in and keeps me at a distance all at once. She is beautiful, her striking, thick, red hair, flawlessly styled in old Hollywood waves. Her face is sculpted with sharp angles. Her dark, piercing eyes appear to scrutinize everyone around her. Her fair skin makes her elegant makeup leap out at you, with her lips painted in a rich burgundy shade.
She is wearing a form-fitting burgundy dress, its long, flowing sleeves tighten at her wrists. The belt cinches her waist, emphasising her hourglass silhouette, which is both alluring and intimidating. I assume beauty is her powerful weapon. But her mouth and the way she speaks like she has nothing to lose is clearly her poison.
“Sascha’s in the studio with your mother,” Diane says before walking away, and I feel my body freeze.
He brought me to his mother.
Why?
Why is he bringing me here without letting me know in advance?
What is it with these brothers and bringing me to family functions without telling me?
I’m suddenly sweating in places I didn’t know could sweat. Anxiety piles inside me. I start smoothing my dress down, being now overly aware I don’t have my panties on. Come on, Olivia.
“Nathan,” I mutter.
He stops walking and looks at me.
“Yes?”
“You said we were meeting some board members?” I ask, my voice coming out almost a whisper.
“And we are,” he declares, his voice calm.
I look at him confused.
“She said your mother is here, though,” I repeat in case he didn’t listen.
“Yes, my mother is a member of the board,” he says, nodding, as if it was obvious.
“What?” I ask, even if I understand the situation, I still can’t wrap my head around the idea that he brought me to meet his mother .
“Olive, this is my family’s business,” he says, his tone sounding mildly annoyed.
“So work meetings are actually family meetings?” I ask, almost a statement.
“Not exactly.” He pauses. “It’s there a problem?” There’s no doubt—now, I sense annoyance in his voice.
“I need my panties back.”
“Oh, that.” He chuckles, regaining the sweetness in his voice. “I’m sorry, you got your chance in the car. It’s too late now.”
Le connard.