36. Oliver
Oliver
Iwatch Lissa sitting beside Henry on the bed. She strokes his head, fully focused on him.
Truman leaps up onto the bed, sniffing gently at Henry and settling down beside him. I only have a tiny bit of knowledge about the sixth sense of animals, but Truman seems to be aware that Henry isn’t well. He’s rarely this connected to someone the first time he meets them.
I know I shouldn’t have asked them to come here. I knew as soon as the invitation left my mouth that it was a mistake, but I couldn’t help myself.
Watching her with Henry, so soft and gentle as the snow falls outside the window, I’ve never felt so content and grounded before.
How the hell did I manage to fall for an escort?
There’s no point in denying it—I’ve fallen for her.
The final hour of the workday has become what gets me through the rest of the day.
I think about that time with her constantly, planning how to make her feel good, how to make her moan for me.
But also, to allow her to relax, find a release, and hold her in my arms.
I think about everything she’s been through. I have so much, and she has so little, but she deserves everything the world has to offer.
If I could do more for her, I would.
Pulling out my phone, I open my banking app and deposit a payment for all the extra time we’ve spent together this week. It’s more than I should probably send, but I don’t care.
I want her to have an easier life. I adore her, and I adore Henry too, despite barely knowing him. He’s such an extension of her. Every expression he makes, his thoughtful, slow, careful way of being, reminds me of Lissa.
My heart aches that he’s so sick.
“Have you ever thought about bringing Truman to work with you?” Lissa asks.
I pocket my phone, frowning down at Truman, who has his front paws against Lissa’s thigh.
“Get down, Truman,” I say gently, but Lissa just laughs and picks him up.
“It’s alright, he’s such a sweet boy.”
Truman licks at her chin. “He is. But he’s also a menace sometimes. And no. I’ve never thought about bringing him to AGS. I don’t think the other partners would appreciate it.”
She strokes Truman’s tiny head as his little tail bashes repeatedly against her body. I feel an urge to loop my arm around Lissa’s tiny shoulders, but instead I quickly shove my hands in my pockets.
She wanders quietly into the living room as I go to the kitchen and pick up the discarded wine glasses from the counter, following her with the last of the bottle. I consider opening another, but I’ve already had enough and need to keep a clear head.
My housekeeper lit a fire earlier before she left, and it’s still burning as I enter the room. Truman and Lissa have gravitated towards it. She’s so beautiful in the soft golden glow. I can’t stop staring at her as I hand her a little more of the wine.
She sits on the couch opposite the fireplace, and after some indecision, I sit beside her.
I’m terrified she’ll be able to read everything on my face.
The idea of her discovering my feelings makes nausea rise like acid in my throat.
If she knew the ridiculous thoughts running around in my head, she would no doubt laugh in my face.
I sip my wine and try not to clench my jaw. Truman jumps up between us, doing the little thing I love, where he circles around several times before he settles.
He ends up leaning against Lissa’s leg, but she doesn’t seem to mind, one hand coming to rest on his belly as he rolls over, his legs in the air. He’s so ridiculous sometimes.
“Have you ever thought about starting your own firm?” she asks as I pause, glancing at her, raising an eyebrow.
“I have,” I admit slowly. “Many times. But I’ve worked hard to get to where I am at AGS. I’m about to become an equity partner. It’s what I’ve been working toward for a long time.”
She gives me a big approving smile. “And what happens after that?” she asks.
Such an innocent question, but it makes me stop to think. “I guess I’ll keep working like I always have and give Adelaide a raise and more purple gifts.”
Lissa gives a little laugh at that, her eyes glittering in the firelight. “Is there a reason she wears purple every day? I keep meaning to ask her, but I don’t want to make her feel self-conscious about it.”
I raise my eyes to the ceiling. “It’s a ridiculous joke between us that got out of hand.”
She looks at me, intrigued, and I sigh as she gives another little chuckle.
God, I love that sound.
“When Adelaide first started working for me a million years ago, I was a total shithead. I might have been a great lawyer, but I am ashamed to say I saw PAs and administrative staff as my workers. I didn’t have an iota of respect for any of them.”
“I can’t believe that!”
I smile gratefully that she’s shocked by my admission.
“I was a cocky asshole—that’s why I’m going to EP before I’m forty.
I was really motivated and driven in my twenties.
But Adelaide was one of the few who wouldn’t let me get away with anything.
I was arrogant enough to think I could ‘break’ her; it makes me cringe to think about it. now”
I shake my head. “I once told her that purple was the color of royalty and that I always loved it. The next day, she came in wearing head-to-toe purple and told me to my face that I should treat my PAs like the queens they are because they’re the most important assets I’ll ever have.”
“Wow. I can’t imagine her speaking to you like that.”
“Ha! She’s more of a hardass than she looks, and she still doesn’t take any shit from me, although I’ve mellowed a lot since then. I learned my lesson.”
“Which was?”
“She was right. A lawyer is able to do his or her job because of all the people working behind the scenes. I couldn’t do my job without Adelaide; she knows it as well as I do.
But the purple stuck. Every day, she reminds me in her own way how indispensable she is.
Not that I’d ever get rid of her. She’s incredible. ”
“She thinks the world of you.”
“Yes, well, there’s no accounting for taste.”
She gives me a big grin, my stomach flipping once again, and I top up her glass with the last of the wine.
For a long time, she doesn’t speak, and I shift in my seat, nervous that she’s thinking about going home.
I’ve never had a woman sleep here. Ever.
“Can I ask you a question you don’t have to answer?” she says quietly.
My fingers tighten on the stem of my glass, knowing exactly what she’s going to say. I stare into the flames, my heart thumping as I force the words out.
“My father,” I say slowly. “The scars on my back were his handiwork.”
There’s a look of understanding in her gaze as she looks at me with wide, sad eyes.
I search for the pity I’m used to seeing from doctors and those who knew of my father’s temperament.
But with Lissa, it’s different. There’s concern, but not pity.
Her eyes harden as she looks back at the fire, her brows lowering.
“Is he still alive?” she asks softly.
“No. Drank himself to death a long time ago.”
I stare ahead of me, the flames melting away as I sink into a memory I’ve conjured up too many times to count. The smell of blood reaches my nostrils as I walk through the hallway of my childhood home, turning the corner to a sight I will never forget.
“He almost killed my mother. The night he left. That was his parting gift to me. To find her that way.”
The fire is the only light in the room, and the dimness wraps around me as I keep talking.
“He’d done it before. Many times. But I knew, hiding in my room, that this time was different. She had made me swear I wouldn’t come out, but I always wondered if I could have stopped him. Nobody else was coming to save her.”
“But your mom survived?”
“Yes. Somehow.”
“And he beat you, too.” It isn’t a question.
“I would take the beatings for my mother when I could.”
“That’s terrible, Oliver.”
“He was an awful man. When he didn’t get his way, he took it out on everyone else around him. But then I grew up. And kept growing. He knew he wouldn’t be able to continue to beat me.”
“And your mother recovered?”
“To an extent. She was badly injured, but she’s still around and feisty as ever. I’ve spent a fortune adjusting her house to her needs.” I say with a rueful shake of my head. “And she keeps adopting cats to keep her company. It’s as if she wants to trip over one and break a hip.”
“How many cats does she have?” Lissa asks, sounding amused.
“So many. I’m not even sure anymore.”
Her lips curve in a smile as she sips her wine. There’s a long silence, and then she lowers her glass to her knee.
“I have a scar on my shoulder from where James threw me into the kitchen counter,” she says. Her voice is small and hollow in the darkness. “Your mother was lucky to have you. I can’t imagine Henry having to go through something like that.”
“Is that why you left?” I ask.
“No. I wish it was some heroic tale of me choosing to save my son. But it was Bethany who eventually opened my eyes to the truth.”
“Which was?”
“James was going to kill me. One day, he would lose his temper for the last time. And I’d be gone. She told me over and over, terrified for me. I think it was her fear that helped me see what was really happening. That I didn’t deserve it. That I deserved something… more.”
I sigh, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “It can seem simple from the outside. But it’s hard to see when you’re living with it every day.”
“Yes,” she says in a shaky voice. “Almost impossible.”
Neither of us says anything more, sitting in the quiet, watching the fire with Truman sleeping peacefully between us.
I haven’t spoken about my father for so long; it’s a release to let it out.
I glance at Lissa, wondering what she’s thinking, but she’s leaning back on the couch, a little smile on her face, silent and still.
I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to disturb the peace between us, even as I fight the feelings trying to claw their way out of me.