Chapter 31
On the day of lunch with the Caldwell-Oviedo family
As soon as I left her at the hotel, I wanted to go back. It felt strange coming home knowing she wouldn’t be with me.
Olívia needed only a few days to change even the place where I live. There’s no chance I can sit at my desk on the first floor without remembering what happened there.
Her thighs parted, the open nightgown revealing full breasts, her head tossed back, asking, offering.
Damn it!
But I know my mother is right. I can’t let things between us progress until I tell her the whole truth.
In my defense, Olívia blindsided me. Being a guy who needed to plan most of his adult life, having her spreading so quickly in my system wasn’t what I expected.
God, I wanted to kill my brother!
Seeing her smile at Gael’s small talk, or even the almost instant friendship between her and Rafe, drove me crazy with jealousy.
Nina grumbles as I put her into the crib, but unlike the past few days, she doesn’t cry. She looks at me in the dim light of the room as if we are both thinking the same thing: why isn’t Olívia here with us?
“Good question, Princess Nina. Maybe because your daddy is an idiot.”
She smiles, claps her hands, and for a crazy moment, I think she’s agreeing with me.
I sit in the rocking chair and try to go over the last few days in my head.
I’m not giving up on her.
I should.
All the warning signs are against me, but I also know I’ve found something true. Now I just need to figure out a way to fix the mess I caused without driving her away for good.
I pick up my phone and send a message.
The server indicates it’s delivered, and I keep staring at the phone screen, hoping she’ll respond.
After an hour, she declines my dinner invitation.
Olívia: Thank you, but no. There are too many changes happening in my life, and I need to think.
Even though it goes against my nature, I decide to give her tomorrow to have some time to herself, but I won’t give up until she hears what I have to say.
I’ll call Joaquín and ask him to come stay with Nina on Monday night.
It’s time to raise the stakes.
On Monday
I can’t wait to see her.
I’ve sent several messages, all replied to coldly, and tonight, they didn’t even reach the server. She also hasn’t answered my calls.
To make matters worse, I’m heading back to Boston after spending a whole day in New York sorting out a problem with a damn Sheikh who threw a party with luxury escorts, occupying an entire floor and horrifying the other guests at one of our most prestigious hotels.
Heads will roll when I find out who allowed that. The media is tirelessly reporting the incident. A Republican senator found a woman wrapped in a towel in the hallway, and my manager said he thought the man was going to have a heart attack.
I’m damn pissed, and even more annoyed that I can’t get through to Olívia. So, even after spending hours immersed in a real hell, I asked Joaquín to pick up Nina from my mother’s house.
There’s no way I can sleep tonight without talking to Olívia first.
I’m not normally anxious. I’ve never been able to afford to be, as my family’s lives were in my hands, but I’m counting the minutes to see her.
As I hand over my car to one of the hotel valets, a message arrives from Joaquín.
Joaquín: She seems like a good girl.
If it came from anyone else, that statement might not mean much, but my brother is without a doubt the most suspicious bastard there is, and now I know that, contrary to what I asked, he investigated Olívia.
With the pent-up emotions of the day, I enter the lobby without replying. Less than a minute later, another message comes.
Joaquín: The truth isn’t always pleasant, but it’s still the truth, brother.
I know, I think as I walk.
She’s not in the hotel, and calls and messages go straight to voicemail.
Where the hell did she go?
The temptation to go to her room is strong, but even for a control freak like me, it would be too much. I have no right to invade her apartment when she’s not there.
I go up to my office and check the records to see if her room has been checked out.
My gut tells me no. Despite seeming to want distance from me, Olívia is not a coward. She wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.
It takes me little time to confirm that, as I suspected, she still occupies the apartment.
I turn on the monitor at my desk and activate the cameras covering the hotel entrance.
We’ll sort everything out today.
The sound of a message wakes me up from a nap, and only when I look at the clock and check the time do I realize it’s past midnight.
Miss Freitas has just gotten out of a car.
It’s from Jake, a trusted employee of my father’s who has worked for us for over fifteen years.
One of the things I appreciate most about him is that he doesn’t ask questions about the orders he receives. I wouldn’t ask anyone else to do what I asked of him because I wouldn’t expose her, but I know with him there’s no risk of Olívia’s name becoming the subject of gossip.
I press the buttons to see her entering, and for a moment, I don’t want to believe my eyes.
Olívia is walking through the lobby alongside a guy who can’t be much older than her.
I zoom in on the cameras to check if he’s just a guest and it’s just a coincidence, but when the jerk accompanies her towards her elevator, I’m about to punch something.
I pick up the phone and call Jake. “Miss Freitas is heading to the north elevator. Stop it, go there, and inform her that she’s expected in the presidential suite.”
Yes, you don’t have to tell me it was a terrible move and that I probably just exposed both of us, but there’s not a single logical thought crossing my mind right now. The only thing I know is that there’s no chance in hell that creep is going up with my Olívia.
As I head to a floor above, where the presidential suite is located, I’m a mess inside. For the first time since I’ve known her, I wonder whether I’m mistaken and she’s exactly like Layla.
No, she wouldn’t do this after everything we’ve been through in the past few days.
Anyway, that guy will only go to her apartment over my dead body.
I track her movements through my phone, which is also connected to the hotel cameras. She’s still in the hallway leading to the elevator, and only when I see the blond with a shaved head coming out alone do I start breathing again.
Completely insane with jealousy, I type a message as soon as I enter the suite.
Me: I’m waiting for you, Miss Freitas. Don’t even think about running away.
I know I should wait for her inside the room, but the urgency is unbearable.
Finally, when the elevator door opens and I have her within reach, all my troubled mind can focus on is the scene I watched from the moment she entered the hotel. Less than five minutes ago, there was some creep eyeing my woman.
I look at her.
The tight jeans she’s wearing outline every curve of her delicious body.
The long hair that just a few days ago was coiled around my fist as I made her climax falls loose.
The mouth with naturally red lips begs for mine.
And her eyes, those blue depths that drown me every damn time we stare at each other . . .
I should take it easy.
We need to talk, but I can’t think clearly. So before I can rationalize, I complete the steps needed to reach her, and holding her face exactly where I need it, I take her mouth, invading, consuming, taking back what’s mine.