Chapter 25
Recent transactions:
The hotel in Vienna is practically bursting at the seams. Competitors, reporters, businessmen, investors, anyone wanting a
sniff of the Odericco Investments prize money. My mind is full of the past week; the best, then worst days in a long time
swirl around in my stomach like oil and honey. The joys of our beta launch going off without a hitch and spending time with
Oliver outside of the competition are marred by Malcolm’s threats, my ravaged bank account, and my family’s disappointments.
I’ve been in a frozen state, avoiding all of the above. My head needs to be in this. Once the final round of the competition
is over, I can deal with everything else in my life. For now, placing in the top three is the only thing that matters. This
final round will make or break everything.
I caught the later flight with Spencer, wanting the time to prep him on the plane and to avoid being in the same building as Malcolm for as long as possible.
We check in with the blond curly-haired receptionist before heading through the main lobby.
Spencer and I throw our bags onto our matching single beds.
I smooth down the static baby hairs in my middle parting as Spencer steps into the bathroom to get changed into his navy suit.
“You ready?” I say as he emerges.
“Are you?” he says, looking me up and down.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re still in your flight clothes.”
“Oh.” I pick out the clothes at the top of my suitcase and click the bathroom door shut.
Spencer lifts one of the complimentary biscuits on the minibar to his mouth. “I feel like out of the two of us, I should be
the one who looks like they’re about to vomit.”
“Right, sorry,” I say, before rubbing my eyes. “Just overwhelmed.”
We make our way back down to the lobby and catch a shuttle bus across town to the Sofitel Hotel. Ideally, we would have been
staying in the main hotel, but at this point I’m so low on cash, I’d need to sell my kidney to even get a pullout sofa bed
at that five-star establishment.
We sit in silence as men bellow around us, trying to play off their obvious nerves as excitement and confidence. We’re all
about to change our lives, our businesses, our futures. At least I’m honest about it by looking sick to my stomach.
Pulling up to the hotel, we file into the main entrance and follow signs into a suite of conference rooms. Spencer and I still don’t talk as we shuffle forward in the line until we get to the front of the Odericco-branded sign-in desk.
“Oh, hey,” a disembodied voice says. The spark of familiarity shoots up my spine, lifting my chin from my long list of emails
to meet soft hazel eyes. They twinkle at me with a mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and excitement. My mind instantly
jumps back to me running out of his apartment still flustered from his hands on me.
“Hey,” I manage to get out before completely collapsing inward.
“Spencer Cole, Wyst,” Oliver says, straightening his posture while he taps at a tablet to sign us in. “And Violet Leigh.”
He smiles at me, and with his blue Odericco-branded pen, he points to a beige door to our right. “Additional personnel can
wait in there.”
“Is that where you also keep the emotional support animals?” I joke, but my tone comes out . . . off.
“It’s just refreshments and free wi-fi.” He shrugs nonchalantly, his light blue shirt hugging his chest. The navy fleur-de-lis-printed
tie slices through his torso, framing his lean body.
“Right, thanks,” I mumble, taking my name tag and complimentary lanyard. Briefly looking back to see Oliver’s focus already
honed in on signing in the next contestant.
The clock ticks away as I bite down every one of my nails into scratchy stubs; our slot was meant to be thirty minutes, but
it’s been nearly forty-five. I guess that could only be a good thing, right? No, they’ve figured Spencer is not the CEO and
he’s currently being tied to a chair and interrogated. Eventually, I give in and burst out of the waiting room for some air.
“Hey, is everything okay?” Oliver’s chair scrapes as he stands up from his position behind the desk.
My eyes scrunch shut. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t know you were still here.” With Spencer being the last appointment of the day,
I assumed Oliver would have been dismissed by now.
He shifts his weight. “There was a start-up whose one-to-one didn’t go so well; they were trying to get in for a do-over.
I’m hanging around just in case.”
“Right,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “I hope you get paid extra for that.”
“What are you still doing here?” he asks, an eyebrow raised as he slides a hand into his pocket, using the other to lean against the desk.
“I guess it felt weird just dropping Spencer off and leaving. I’m just . . . nervous.” I cross my arms. “For Spencer,” I clarify,
almost forgetting that he doesn’t know the full truth. My stomach knots. Now I’m back in his calming orbit, every fiber of
my being wants to tell him everything.
His shoulders loosen at my words, but his jaw remains tense. “I wanted to call you after . . .” He trails off.
“Why didn’t you?” I ask, before I answer my own question, nodding. “Because I ran out of your home like a crazy person.”
He lets out a nervous laugh. “It’s okay. You were busy, and you said before you even arrived that you couldn’t stay. I’m sorry
if I moved things too fast or—”
A pang of guilt hits me. “No, it wasn’t you at all.” I squeeze my forearm between my fingers. The idea that this has been
weighing on him for the past couple of weeks adding another layer of shame. “I just have a lot on my plate right now.”
“You seemed like you needed some space,” he echoes, scratching the back of his head. His hazel eyes glint with concern under the fluorescent lighting.
“I did. Not from you. Just from . . . life.” I’m blinking furiously, trying to keep everything down.
We’re two bubbles, holding our edges together as tight as we can. If we bump into each other, we might burst, or maybe we’ll
attach, fusing our edges into one.
My breath holds as he comes out from behind the desk in one fluid movement. He’s unsure, measuring my response to each step
before taking another. He’s so unbelievably aware of me. He can read me; even if he doesn’t know where the emotions are coming
from, he seems to get what they mean. The overwhelm, the madness of guilt and shame, jealousy and anticipation, bitterness
and anxiety. They curl around us like vines, pulling us closer because we both feel them but in different ways. The way he
looked when he confided in me about his father is the way he looks now as he studies me.
“You can trust me,” he says.
My eyebrow twitches involuntarily. “With what?” I avoid his sincere gaze, staring at the dark green bobbled carpet tiles.
He slides his hands into his pockets as he gives me a polite if not slightly exasperated smile and leans against the wall.
“With whatever you’ve got going on. With anything. I don’t know why, I just guess I need you to know that.”
For a moment I contemplate telling him what happened with Malcolm, about my parents, about Spencer, but telling Oliver would
be opening Pandora’s box. Adding so much more chaos to the web of lies I’ve been weaving for weeks.
I stare at him and shift the conversation. “Are you going to the ball tonight?”
His smile widens. “If you’ll be there, I wouldn’t dare miss it.”
My cheek reddens as he strokes his lips across it and leaves the softest trace of a kiss. His deep, peppery scent lingers
like my want for him.