Chapter 12
I reached under the table and dug my nails into Dillon’s hand as it traveled up my leg. Oliver was engaged in conversation with James Ryder, seated on the opposite side. I found myself sandwiched between Dillon and Rick; the older men seemingly unaware of the situation. Dillon let out a yelp, hastily covering it up with a cough.
As he pulled his hand away, I noticed the marks my nails had left on his skin. He rubbed at them, avoiding my gaze as he took a long sip of his scotch. If anything, his alcohol consumption seemed to embolden him. Meanwhile, Rick appeared more interested in the discussion between James and Oliver, leaving Dillon free to persist.
“Why did you do that?” Dillon whispered, his voice laced with confusion.
“Are you kidding me?” I retorted, incredulous.
“No, I’m just being friendly,” he insisted, his tone unconvincing.
“You’re a pervert,” I hissed, irritation evident in my voice.
“Something you two can bring to the conversation?” James interjected, casting a curious glance in our direction.
I looked up to see Oliver’s stare fixed on Dillon’s hand. One of the fading marks had started to ooze blood.
“No,” Dillon said.
“I need to use the restroom; would you like to powder your nose?” Oliver said to me.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I would.”
I grabbed my purse and Callan and James stood as I got up. They were polite; I wish their sons had the same respect. Oliver placed his hand on my back and navigated me to a hallway that held the bathrooms as well as another door that led into a large office. This is where he brought me. His face was bright red and I knew he figured out what happened between Dillon and me.
“That motherfucker put his hands on you?” Oliver growled, his eyes dark with anger.
I nodded, feeling a mix of frustration and discomfort. “He’s an asshole. He put his hand on my leg.”
“I have to say something to Callan and James. Their sons are out of control, and I won’t have them disrespecting you. I told you if they did anything, I would handle it immediately,” he said, his tone firm and resolute.
“You have a good relationship with Callan and James. I don’t want to get in the middle,” I protested.
“I don’t give a shit. You come first,” he declared, his protective instincts kicking in.
“What are you going to do?” I asked, feeling a bit anxious about the potential fallout.
“I’ll tell them you’re not feeling well and let them finish dinner,” he replied, his jaw clenched with determination. “But I’ll speak with Callan and James privately tomorrow. No one touches my fiancée and gets away with it.”
“I’m sorry to cause trouble,” I sniffled, feeling guilty for the conflict.
“It’s not your fault. You need to be assertive in business, or these guys will eat you alive,” he reassured me, his hand gentle on my shoulder.
“Maybe you should put me in the PR department. I’m not cut out for this cutthroat stuff,” I suggested, feeling a bit defeated.
“It comes with experience. Let’s go home,” he said, his voice softening as he guided me away from the table.
We returned to the table, and Oliver informed the Ryders that I wasn’t feeling well. Dillon scowled when I glanced at him, as if I had done something wrong. I couldn’t wait to get away from him. Oliver didn’t bother to shake his or Rick’s hand, instead telling Callan and James, he would see them in his office the next morning.
I felt nauseous when I got home and went to the bedroom to undress. Oliver was paging through his mail before he came into the closet.
“Sweetheart, are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I just want to take it easy.”
Oliver removed his suit and placed it in the dry-cleaning bag to give to the concierge. It was nice not to need to go to the dry cleaner, yet another thing I liked about living in a full-service building. After I got settled in bed, my cell vibrated with an incoming call.
As I collapsed onto the bed, trying to quell the nausea roiling in my stomach, my phone buzzed. Seeing Sadie’s name flash on the screen, I quickly answered.
"Sadie, how are you?" I asked, forcing cheerfulness into my voice.
A soft sniffle came from the other end, making my stomach twist even tighter. "What's wrong?"
"I had a fight with Finley," she said, her voice shaky and full of tears.
"About what?"
"He's angry with me," her voice broke.
"That's obvious. Over what?"
"I'm pregnant."
I bolted upright so fast that I startled Oliver, who had just slipped into bed beside me. He stared at me, wide-eyed, as I gripped the phone tighter.
"What? When? How many months?"
"Three."
I bit my lip. "Three, and you're just telling me now? You were pregnant when we saw you for lunch. Why didn’t you say anything then?"
Sadie sniffled. "We were engaged. You think I wanted to spring it on you all at once?"
"Is that why you didn’t drink?"
"Yes. I found out when I was two months pregnant. And before you ask, Finley already purchased the ring before I told him. He wanted to marry me."
"What’s his problem?"
"He's angry because he didn’t want to do things this way. He wanted to spend time with me before we had a baby."
"Do you want me to talk to him?"
She was silent for a moment. "No. I think we’ll be fine."
I let out a breath with frustration. "I think I should. Finley can be a stubborn ass. What about your wedding?"
"We decided to have a civil service and a small reception."
"Is that what you want?"
"It’s what Finley wants."
I frowned. "You don’t get a say? I thought you wanted a big wedding?"
"I do but I got pregnant."
"Uh, excuse me but it takes two to tango. You didn’t make that baby yourself."
Oliver was staring at me the entire time I was talking. I wondered if he worried I would get pregnant before we got married. I had no intention and took my birth control pills religiously. I spoke to Sadie a few minutes more before I heard my brother in the background, and she said goodbye and hung up.
Oliver reached out, resting a hand on my arm, his eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and concern. "Is everything okay?"
“Sadie’s pregnant?”
“Yes. Three months,” I said, my voice still tinged with disbelief.
Oliver’s brow furrowed as he processed the news. “I knew something was up with your brother when I mentioned children.”
“He’s getting used to the idea, but he wanted to be married first,” I explained, sighing softly.
“They had a fight?” Oliver asked, concern deepening his voice.
“Uh, huh,” I confirmed, nodding. “And she’s emotional because of the hormones. I’m going to be an aunt. How exciting.”
Oliver cleared his throat, a small smile forming. “I’m going to be an uncle.”
“You are.” I grinned back. “When was the last time you were around kids?”
“Not recently,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can understand Finley’s hesitation to being a father. Running a company and having children is hard.”
I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “How would you know? Do you have some floating around out there?”
Oliver didn’t seem amused. “I was kidding,” I added quickly.
“I know, but it’s nothing to kid about. I’m sure Finley is scared,” Oliver said, his expression serious.
“If you think so, then you don’t know Finley. He always deals with things head-on, and he will with this too,” I asserted, crossing my arms.
“Maybe not. Knowing you’re having a child changes you,” Oliver said, his tone reflective.
“You act like you know. Is this how you’re going to act when I get pregnant?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No, because we won’t have children until after we’re married,” he replied, his voice firm.
“That’s true since our wedding is seven months away. If I got pregnant now, I would still be pregnant in July,” I said, half-joking.
“Is that supposed to be a joke?” Oliver asked, his irritation evident.
“Jesus Christ, Oliver, why so sensitive?” I snapped, feeling my frustration rise.
“I’m just feeling for your brother,” he said, his voice softening.
“I’ll talk to him later this week. I know he’s stressed about his company,” I said, trying to shift the focus.
“Why?” Oliver asked, curiosity piqued.
“He’s working on several projects at once for clients, and a couple of the apps are giving him issues,” I explained.
“So, he doesn’t need the added stress of a baby,” Oliver concluded.
“You men act like you have it so hard. We’re the ones that have to carry the baby, gain weight, have our hormones all messed up, and breastfeed,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“And we’re right there with you. The good ones are anyway,” Oliver responded, his eyes softening as he reached for my hand.
“I hope so,” I said, squeezing his hand, feeling a bit more reassured.
I settled back into bed and turned on the television. The next day I planned to call my brother and give him a piece of my mind. I hated to see Sadie upset.
“I’m not ready to be a father,” Finley said, his voice tight with strain.
I had finally managed to get him to answer after four attempts. "Stop being a dick. You’re twenty-eight."
“I’m so busy with work, and there’s no need for name-calling,” he growled.
His voice sounded more strained than usual, and my instincts told me there was more to this. “Finley, is there anything else wrong?”
“Why would you think that?”
I laughed lightly. “I’ve known you my entire life. I know when something is wrong.”
He hesitated, then sighed. “Finances. I know Sadie needs stability, but I’m not sure I can afford my apartment. I put almost my entire inheritance into my business.”
“What about the contracts and VC money you received?”
“Contracts don’t pay until I finish the applications. The VC money went to expanding the business. I spread myself too thin.”
Are you afraid of losing the business? What about a loan?”
“Loans are maxed out. I can’t borrow anymore. If I sell my apartment, that would give me several hundred thousand dollars to bolster the company, but we would have to move to a smaller place. I don’t want to do that to Sadie.”
“So, this really isn’t about not being ready to be a father. You’re worried you’ll disappoint Sadie?”
“You told me enough about what she had when she grew up. Her family is nice, but I know they struggle. Sadie talks about helping them. Their house needs work, and her parents are hoping the triplets get some type of scholarships.”
“What about Matthew?” I asked.
“I’ve borrowed from him and Anders. I can’t ask for more.”
“You never asked me. I could lend you.”
He exhaled loudly. “I was keeping you in my back pocket, hoping to work this out without asking.”
“And Oliver. He could help you. Maybe you need some assistance with the books; he’s great at finding money.”
Finley’s voice went up an octave. “Would he lend me money?”
“I would have to speak to him, and you know how he is. He would need to examine your books to see if it’s a sound investment.”
“Would it help if I used the brother-in-law card?”
I bit my bottom lip. “He might show you some sympathy, but don’t bet on it.”
Finley hesitated for a moment, the line crackling with silence. “Could you speak to him? I feel like a jerk getting in this position. I don’t want to sell my apartment or lose my company.”
My stomach churned, knowing that all the work my brother put into his company over the past few years could go down the toilet. “I’ll talk to Oliver after I get off with you. I’m sure we can work something out.”
“That would be wonderful. You’re a lifesaver,” Finley gushed.
“Don’t thank me yet. I still need to talk to Oliver.”
“Call me back.”
“He might call you back.”
“I’ll be waiting. Thanks, Ry.”
We hung up, and I sat for a few seconds, absorbing the weight of our conversation. Then I pushed my chair back and headed over to Oliver’s office. I found my fiancé engrossed in reports on his laptop, taking meticulous notes on a piece of paper. He looked up and smiled when I entered. I shut the door before going to sit in front of his desk.
"Hey," he said, putting his pen down. "What’s up? I heard you talking on the phone.”
“Finley.”
“Don’t tell me you chewed him out because of what he said to Sadie,” Oliver said, raising an eyebrow.
“I did, but I found out that’s not the real reason he’s upset,” I replied, my tone softening.
Oliver stopped writing and leaned back in his black leather office chair, giving me his full attention. “What is?”
“His company is stretched thin financially,” I said, watching his expression carefully.
Oliver stroked his chin thoughtfully. “And you thought I could help him out?”
“Either you or me. I can dip into my inheritance.”
“No.”
“No, you won’t help him out? He said if he doesn’t get a fresh infusion of cash, he’ll have to sell his apartment. He doesn’t want to put Sadie through a move. You know she needs financial stability,” I pressed, feeling the tension rise.
“I meant no, I won’t allow you to spend your inheritance,” Oliver clarified, his tone firm.
“Does that mean you’ll help him?” I asked, hope creeping into my voice.
“I need to see his books. I’m sure there’s some waste,” Oliver said, leaning forward, his eyes sharp with determination.
“And if there is?” I asked, my heart pounding.
“We’ll trim it and discuss an investment. I can’t invest in something that’s not solid, but I might make an exception because he’s family,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips.
“I was hoping you would say that. He really needs our help,” I said, relief washing over me.
“It’s going to cost you,” Oliver said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
I rolled my eyes. “Sexual favors?”
“What kind of man do you take me for? I would never ask that of you,” he said, feigning innocence.
I smirked. “Bullshit. You have before.”
“When?” Oliver challenged, leaning back with a grin.
“Several times. You’re a horrible boss. I should report you to HR,” I teased, crossing my arms.
“What would you say?” he asked.
“I’d tell them how you try to seduce me while in the office. You’ve created a sexually charged atmosphere,” I replied, matching his playful tone.
Oliver laughed, shaking his head. “Guilty as charged. But seriously, we’ll help Finley. He’s family, and that means something to me too.”
I leaned over the desk and kissed him. “Thank you, Oliver. It means a lot to me.”
He began to scribble a few more notes on his pad. “I have a few things to do before we leave.”
“I meant to ask, how did your meeting go with James and Callan?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Oliver sighed, rubbing his temples. “I had a few choice words about their sons. They were none too happy about their behavior and apologized.”
“I’m sorry I put you in a bad position,” I said, feeling a twinge of guilt.
“You didn’t put me in a bad position. Their sons put them in a bad position,” he corrected, his eyes softening as he looked at me.
“I guess it’s something I’ll have to get used to,” I said, shrugging.
“Are you kidding me? You don’t have to be sexually harassed to make a deal,” Oliver said, his voice firm and protective.
“I know, but it’s a common occurrence in business. Women get harassed and treated like second-class citizens with lower salaries and fewer promotions. We had a discussion in my business administration class,” I explained, frustration evident in my tone.
“It does go on, but it doesn’t go on here. If you’re worthy, you get the salary and the promotion, no matter what your gender may be,” Oliver said, his conviction clear.
“That’s because you’re a great boss,” I said, smiling.
A grin danced on Oliver’s lips. “You said I was a horrible boss not five minutes ago.”
“Shut up. I have some things to finish,” I retorted, rolling my eyes.
I heard him chuckling to himself as I exited his office, the sound following me down the hallway.
Vlad brought the limo to pick us up from work, and we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. One night without sex was one night too long. Oliver bitched because I chose to wear slacks again, grumbling about how hard it was to get his hand in my panties.
“Deal with it,” I murmured in his ear.
“In one minute, I’m going to strip you bare and fuck you until you scream,” he growled, his breath hot against my neck.
“Promises, promises.”
Oliver grasped the hem of my green cashmere sweater and pulled it up. My head got caught inside, and I struggled to get it off until he helped me.
“I love when you wear these innocent white bras,” he murmured, his eyes dark with desire.
“Oh, does my virginal appearance turn you on?” I teased, arching an eyebrow.
“It does because it’s so opposite.”
“I’m a whore?” I asked, half-joking, half-curious.
“No, why would you say that?” he replied, looking genuinely puzzled.
“Isn’t the opposite of a virgin a whore?”
“Not at all. I prefer to call it sexually adventurous.”
I pulled my sweater back on, smirking. “What are you doing?”
“We’re almost home. I’d rather spend time in bed than here in the limo.”
“That sounds good to me,” I agreed, feeling the anticipation build.
Vlad pulled up to our building two minutes later, double parking so we didn’t have to spend too long in the frigid air. The wind was blowing fiercely, and it wouldn’t surprise me if it was below zero. We hurried to the elevator, and I was relieved when it opened before we even hit the button. After the passengers got out, Oliver pulled me in and punched in the code for the penthouse.
“If there weren’t cameras in here, I would do unspeakable things to you,” he whispered, his voice full of promise.
“I thought you were a gentleman,” I replied, teasing him.
“Have I ever claimed to be?”
“No, you haven’t, but you did restore my honor today.”
“I’d like to throttle those two for putting their hands on you,” he said, his jaw tightening with anger.
“It’s over,” I reassured him, placing a hand on his chest.
“I told them I don’t want their sons to come with them when we meet. What they did is the utmost disrespect, and they agreed,” Oliver said, his eyes softening as he looked at me.
I nodded, grateful for his support. “Thank you, Oliver.”
“Anything for you,” he murmured.
He practically dragged me down the hall when the elevator opened, shoving his key in the lock and pushing me inside. He held onto my hand, slamming the door with his foot before he threw me over his shoulder and carried me down to our bedroom.
Oliver placed me next to the bed and began to undress me, dropping everything on the floor, including my coat. He left me in my underwear while he made the heap of clothing grow higher with his own piled on top.
“Get into bed.”
I went to remove my bra.
“What are you doing?”
I frowned. “Taking off my underwear.”
“Leave it on,” I growled.
“Yes, sir.”
I yanked the covers down and climbed onto the bed. Oliver’s cock was pressing against his blue boxers, and my mouth watered as I thought about sucking him. I reached for him, but he backed away.
“No,” he said firmly.
“I want to suck you. Why the hell do I have to beg?” I protested, frustration bubbling up.
“Because I’d rather be inside you,” he replied, his voice husky with desire.
“Let me suck you, and then you can be inside me,” I countered, determined.
“If you suck me, then I’ll want to come in your mouth,” he explained, his gaze intense.
“It’s not like you don’t recover quickly. I wonder when you’ll slow down,” I teased, a mischievous grin playing on my lips.
“Never, as long as I have you by my side. I’ll be eighty and getting a hard-on for you,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“I’ll be sixty-six and probably all wrinkly. You might not want me,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.
“I’ll always want you. Now stop giving me a hard time and lie down,” he commanded, his tone firm yet loving.
I giggled as I laid back, slipping my hands under the pillow. Oliver prowled over my body like a panther, his kisses igniting a fire within me. My core clenched several times as his lips touched me, and I moaned softly as he latched onto my neck and sucked.
“Don’t mark me,” I murmured, my breath hitching with pleasure.
“Stop worrying,” he whispered against my skin, his hands trailing down my body.
He kissed down my chest, teasing my nipples with his mouth before liberating my breasts from my bra. Nibbling at my nipples, he continued his descent, his teeth tugging at the waistband of my panties.
“I’d like to tear these off you with my mouth,” he murmured, his voice laced with desire.
“You might as well. You seem to like destroying my panties,” I replied, a playful smirk on my lips.
“You can get whatever you want to replace them,” he said, his fingers inching closer to my core.
“Good. I saw some six-hundred-dollar panties at Boudoir Fashions,” I teased, enjoying the banter.
“Get them, use the card,” he said, his tone playful yet commanding.
“You’re crazy. I’m not spending that amount of money on panties,” I protested, unable to suppress a laugh.
“Your whining is killing the mood. Stop talking,” he declared, his voice tinged with amusement.
He wrenched down my panties, and I lifted my hips eagerly before he tore them off. I continued to tease him, but he silenced me with a passionate kiss before plunging his tongue inside me.
“Fuck! Oh God, Oliver, that feels so good,” I moaned, my body writhing with pleasure.
He lapped at me, teasing my clit with his mouth, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. I felt a massive orgasm building, but then he stopped, pulling out his penis and sliding it inside me. I squeezed my walls around him as he pumped into me, his hips slapping against mine.
“I’m gonna…” I gasped, my words trailing off as ecstasy washed over me.
I let out a loud scream as my orgasm ripped through me, my body trembling with pleasure. Oliver kept stroking inside me until I heard him grunt and release. He collapsed on top of me, and I wrapped my arms around him, feeling utterly satisfied and content in his embrace.
I let out a loud scream as my orgasm ripped through me. I closed my eyes, thrust my head back and Oliver kept stroking inside me until I heard him grunt and release. He collapsed on top of me, and I wrapped my arms around him.
“That was good,” Oliver whispered against my chest.
“Only good?” I teased, running my fingers through his hair.
“Did I say good? I meant great,” he corrected, a smirk playing on his lips.
“I’m hungry,” I announced, feeling the rumble of my stomach.
“We have crab salad,” Oliver suggested, beginning to shift off of me.
“Okay, get off me,” I joked, nudging him playfully.
“I want to lay here for a few more minutes. You smell good,” he admitted, his voice softening.
“So do you. I love your cologne,” I confessed, feeling a surge of affection for him.
“I love you,” Oliver said, his gaze warm as he looked into my eyes.
“I know that,” I replied confidently, snuggling closer to him.
“You’re very confident,” he remarked, a hint of amusement in his tone.
“I know I’m right. You do love me, and I love you,” I said, smiling up at him.
Oliver moved off my body, rolling to my side. I turned to face him and rested my head on his chest. He stroked my hair gently, tucking a strand behind my ear.
“I’m glad tomorrow is Saturday. I’m tired.” I admitted, feeling the exhaustion from the busy week settling in.
“We had a busy week. Next time we go to St. Croix, we spend a week,” Oliver suggested, his voice tinged with excitement.
“The next time we go will be in July. I want to be surprised,” I replied, feeling a sense of anticipation.
“Then I need to take a couple of days to check on the house in June,” Oliver said, his expression serious.
“No. I hate when you leave me,” I protested, tightening my grip on him.
“Christ, Ryleigh, you can’t have it both ways. I want to inspect the house and make sure it’s to spec. Everything is made to withstand two-hundred-mile winds if we have a hurricane. I want to make sure it was built properly,” he explained, his tone firm yet gentle.
“Then I’ll go with you, but I won’t accompany you to Fox Island,” I compromised, trying to find a middle ground.
“Fine. You’ve gotten very attached to me,” Oliver teased, a playful smirk on his lips.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Fox. I just like your warm body next to me,” I retorted, poking him in the side.
“I’ll bet,” he chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Now, let’s clean up and get some dinner.”