Chapter 2
OLIVIA
“Well, I think it’s safe to say that the power is officially out,” I murmured, though it almost sounded like I shouted it. The room was eerily quiet outside of the pouring rain pattering against the windows.
“Damn it, Olivia,” Weston muttered in that low and husky voice—the same one I always got when he decided to give me the time of day. A mix between a sigh and scoff followed.
“How was I supposed to know that was going to happen?”
“It’s called, pay attention to your surroundings.”
“I was paying attention, Weston. It’s not my fault—”
“Actually, it is your fault.” A beat of silence passed. “If I was able to walk in here without knocking the stopper out of place, then there’s no reason why you couldn’t have done the same.”
I wanted to grit my teeth. Gnashing them together to deal with my current frustrations seemed easier than responding.
It didn’t take long to adjust to the lack of light.
Pretty soon, Weston turned into this apparition that sailed from one end of the countertop to the other—which wasn’t really that long, maybe ten or fifteen feet.
He moved with ease and confidence, the kind that had my stomach tying itself into a knot.
Even with his back facing me, it was as if his eyes were on me, never straying.
He just had that kind of aura about him. He didn’t have to be looking at you for you to feel his entire presence. You also didn’t need the lights on, apparently. If anything, it was almost worse in the darkness. It sent a shiver through me, and I did my best to ignore it.
I watched as he bent down and opened a cabinet. He reached inside of it then set a small black bag on the counter before shuffling through it.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he huffed.
“I don’t know, Weston,” I said, sarcasm lacing the words. “I can’t really see all that much.”
I could hear his annoyance in his reply. “There should be something in here that we can use to see. A flashlight, or at the very least, a few candles and some matches.”
I brought my hands up and twisted them against my stomach. When I left the conference room in search of medicine, I hadn’t expected something like this to happen. Being stuck in a room with Weston for a prolonged amount of time sounded just as exhausting as being in one with his brother.
I fled the conference room, and I wanted to do the exact same thing now.
I couldn’t be here. I couldn’t share this room with him, force polite words out of my mouth, and deal with how physically awful I felt until someone realized we were missing and came looking for us.
Nevermind the time it took to unjam the door.
A click sounded from where Weston stood, and then a ray of light illuminated the room.
He aimed it in my direction, causing me to lift my hand and cover my eyes.
If there was one good thing about the power being out, it was that I didn’t have to deal with the light hurting them more than they were already bothering me.
He twisted the flashlight around and propped it on the counter against the wall.
The light gave away the side of a glass that sat there, waiting to be filled.
Then, he effortlessly hopped up on the countertop—an act that was so unlike him—and reached his arm up over the top of the cabinets.
A few seconds passed and then he lowered back down, a bottle of alcohol in his hand, judging by the shape of it.
Curiosity grew inside of me. From what I knew of Weston, he wasn’t the kind of person who’d have a hidden alcohol stash. No, that would have been Lennon.
My inquisitiveness got the best of me. I still hadn’t taken a step in any direction, instead opting to stand there and squint against the low gleam of light that gave away the tiny spots of dust in the air. “Has that always been up there?”
He replied with a hmph. No words. Only a vibration that came from deep within his throat as he filled his glass. It made that shiver come back tenfold. It zipped through my body and made my fingers all tingly. “If I say yes, are you going to rat me out?”
I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see it.
Weston didn’t answer to anyone at Taylors Security.
It was his—and Lennon’s—name that was on all important memos.
It was the both of them that made all decisions regarding the business.
At the very least, I could’ve gone to Lennon about it, but I had more important fish to fry with him than his brother having a little bit of alcohol stored in the break room.
“Why would I do that?”
“I think the better question is, why aren’t you at Lennon’s party, celebrating his birthday like everyone else?”
This gross feeling filled me, and then images flashed through my mind. Red nails. Feminine laughter. A palm to a cheek.
I hated how Weston still thought Lennon and I were in this happy, thriving relationship. I mean, there wasn’t any reason why he shouldn’t have thought that, but I still didn’t like it. Didn’t he know how his brother was? Couldn’t he see the way Lennon gave his attention to Celeste?
My shackles rose, like they often did when Weston and I butted heads.
There had been more than one occasion where we bickered enough that Lennon had to step in.
Every one of those instances happened during family gatherings, though, when we were forced to spend time together.
Forced to share spaces that weren’t big enough for the both of us.
Or our words. And because we weren’t around a bunch of our coworkers, I said the first thing that came to mind.
“Why do you always have to say such assholey things?”
A husky chuckle came from him. Not in a sexy way, but menacing.
Goosebumps littered my arms, and I ran my hands over them, trying to scare away the chill that he always had a habit of setting into my bones, into my body.
He moved the flashlight away from the wall and set it closer to the edge of the counter.
The light bounced off the ceiling and created this waterfall effect over the small room.
He turned around and crossed his arms over his chest as he held his glass.
A second later, he downed it in one go. I could feel those dark, steely eyes on me as his throat rolled with a swallow.
“You know what, it doesn’t matter,” I told him, not giving a damn suddenly.
I had enough going on. I didn’t need to poke Weston Taylors when I knew it wouldn’t result in anything good.
He was prickly on his best days. I didn’t want to find out how he could be when he was locked in a room with someone he didn’t really care about.
No matter what I said to him, we weren’t going to get anywhere. It’s how it was every other time I tried talking to the man—I’d apply effort, and he’d shit on it.
I turned back around to face the door, ready to get the hell out of here and head to Lennon’s so I could get a decent night of sleep, but when I twisted the door handle to get out, nothing happened.
I tried again, turning it before the little shimmy that remained stopped completely.
The damn thing jammed even more, its mechanism locking in place with no plans of moving any time soon.
The clink of a glass being placed on a counter sounded and footsteps tapped across to where the windows were. The scrape of a chair skidded across the tiles.
“It’s not going to work. That handle has been giving us issues for weeks now. If it’s jammed, which it is, we’re shit out of luck until someone finds us in here. Besides, it’s only fixable from the outside.”
My forehead fell to the door. It wasn’t exactly the greatest move on my part considering my headache was still going strong.
I needed to take something for it. That was the whole reason I came in here in the first place, and yet, I couldn’t get my feet to move in the direction of the cabinet where I knew the medicine was located.
This was really happening, wasn’t it?
I was trapped in this godforsaken room with the only person in the world that probably truly despised me.
I was a good person and didn’t deserve this.
I was kind and thoughtful. I held doors open for the elderly if I was heading into the store and they were right behind me.
I volunteered when I had the extra time in my schedule.
I called my parents two times a week to check in with them and to see how they were doing.
I paid my bills on time—including my credit card—and I never, ever screwed the company clock.
I ran through other ways to escape, but there was only one way in and out—through this damn door. The windows were an option, but they were like the ones installed in school buildings where they opened outward rather than up.
I sure as hell wasn’t going to be caught climbing out of one wearing a dress while a storm raged on the other side of it. And definitely not with Weston sitting feet away with a look on his face that told me what he thought of me.
“There’s absolutely no way?” I asked, just to be certain. I mean, there had to be a way to unjam it from the inside.
“If there is, it wouldn’t matter. We don’t have the necessary tools.”
I rolled my lip into my mouth, bit down on it, and spun, putting my hands on my hips. I glanced over at the windows that were behind where he sat. The rain pelted the building, falling on a slant.
Lightning came.
Thunder followed.
“Does the building have a generator?”
“No. Not one that currently works.”
I scoffed. “You run a security company, and you don’t even have a generator for the building you work in?”
“We did have one, but it took its last breath a month ago. Lennon was working with the company to get an estimate on what it would cost to replace it. No one expected a storm to come through in between it being replaced, Olivia.”
I tried not to panic, because technically, that made sense.
This was an older building that they bought and renovated, so it was likely that the generator needed replacing long before it stopped working.
I couldn’t believe that not only were we waiting on someone to fix the door handle but the generator was also waiting on an upgrade. It was the perfect storm of issues.
“That’s just…great,” I muttered before saying under my breath, “Who would have thought it’d take so long to get a damn generator or door handle repaired?”
Weston’s voice was unforgiving when he said, “Everything in business takes time. We don’t get to snap our fingers and, voilà, everything is dealt with.”
I huffed out a dry laugh. “Right. Of course.” I slid down the door, choosing to sit as far away from him and his insulting words.
“Unfortunately, money only gets you so far, then you have to rely on other factors, like the availability and time people have on their schedules.”
“Thank you for letting me know that we don’t live in a world that is instantaneous with our needs and wants.
I definitely had no idea that there were other factors that could affect the turnout of something like that.
” I didn’t stop there. Something inside me made me rattle on, digging the stake farther into the dirt as I gave Weston all my attitude—attitude, that honestly, I should have been giving Lennon.
“It’s a good thing you’re around, because I’d worry about its success without someone as smart as you running the show and reminding everyone just how dumb they are. ”
“This is why I’m better locked away in my office. I can’t fucking deal with people.” He said the last sentence quieter and in a way that made me think it wasn’t entirely meant for me.
He sat behind a computer most of the day, making sure all code was up to date and that their security software was strong enough that the best hacker in the world couldn’t breach it.
In the moments he ventured into the rest of the building, people kept a wide berth, knowing he wasn’t the Taylors man that would send a smile their way.
That was Lennon, which was why he handled most of the installations.
He liked interacting with people, employees and customers alike.
He was just…good at it. Weston, eh, not so much.
Weston’s words put a bad taste in my mouth. “What’s the point of putting yourself down?”
“I’m not putting anything down,” Weston said in a tone that left no room for questions.
“I’m simply stating facts. Are those things that you can’t bear to hear?
Did my brother spoil you by telling you what you want to hear rather than what the actual truth is?
If so, then it’s a sad, sad day for you Miss Hudson. ”
His audacity—and the way he reverted to using my last name—brought something to life inside of me. He only called me that on the rare occasion I ran into him during work hours. Any other time—like when I spent afternoons with his family because I dated his brother—it was simply Olivia.
My heart almost took it as an attack, especially since it was only the two of us. He always found ways to inadvertently belittle people. To ridicule someone without actually doing so. To send an insult someone’s way without spelling it out.
Maybe he was right. Maybe he was better off in his office with those black walls and brown accents that screamed masculinity. With that desk that took up half of it and held multiple monitors that rivaled the size of the TV in my apartment.
I bit my tongue before saying, “You know, no one did anything to you for you to say the things you do.”
He dragged another chair closer to him and propped his feet up. “No one is forcing you to talk to me. In fact, this would go a lot more smoothly if you didn’t speak at all.”
Whatever manners I had vanished completely. I hated how he brought me down to his level. That I was succumbing to the very thing I just commented on. “Screw you, Weston.”
He tilted his head back, resting it on the back of the chair. I imagined him closing his eyes as he brought his arms up and crossed them over his chest. So goddamn nonchalant while my entire chest brimmed with irritation.
“You’ve already fucked my brother, so, respectfully, no fucking thank you.”