CHAPTER 18
OLIVER
Iput on my jacket and follow Damián down the grand staircase of my house. I pay attention to the way he is dressed, checking his shoes or anything else that could give me a clue to where this “secret place” might be… But his black jeans and white T-shirt tell me absolutely nothing.
Hmmm… I really suck as a profiler.
Annoyed, I give a sideways glare at the gorgeous man walking beside me, and he has the nerve to laugh.
“Are you seriously not going to tell me where we are going?” I ask.
“You do know how surprises work, right?”
“I could use some special methods to extract that information.”
“And I would love to experience all those methods,” Damián says, leaning closer, and I can smell my shampoo on his hair, “but unfortunately for you, you don’t have enough time to make me change my mind.”
“This is a terrible way to treat your boss. I should fire you.”
“I mean.” He shrugs, “…you could try.”
We reach the lower floor, and just as we are heading for the exit, Martin opens the front door and lets in an older man who clearly refuses to age gracefully; his hair is dyed an unnatural, inky black, and his thin, pointy nose looks two surgeries away from disappearing.
Oh, crap… What is Mr. Jenkins doing here?
Mr. Jenkins steps into the entryway, closely followed by his security guard. He looks around and scoffs the moment he sees me.
“Oliver, we have to talk.”
“Sure, make an appointment,” I tell him as I continue my way.
“But I am already here.”
“Great, now you can make an appointment in person.” I look past him to the door. “Martin, would you please help Mr. Jenkins with his appointment?”
“Of course, Master Oliver.”
“Nonsense,” Mr. Jenkins says, waving a dismissive hand at my staff. “Martin, bring me a coffee to the office. Double espresso and a biscuit.”
And without waiting for a reply, Mr. Jenkins marches forward, fully intending to make himself at home in my office… But before he can take five more steps, Damián steps right in his way.
My man doesn’t say a single word; he just stands there daring Mr. Jenkins to see what happens if he takes another step.
Which he doesn’t.
Uffff… Dami is so hot!
“Martin, don’t bring a thing,” I say, closing the distance between myself and this unwanted guest. “Mr. Jenkins… I can see you have the terrible impression that you can tell me what to do. You don’t. I tell you what to do, and you shut your mouth and fucking do it.”
The man glares at me. “Your father used to—”
“I don’t care what my father used to do or not. You’re not working for him… You are working for me.”
Jenkins glares at me, his pointy nose flaring as his jaw trembles with a mix of fury and, I’m pretty sure, some wounded pride.
“How dare you talk to me this way? Do you know what will happen if you get on my wrong side?”
“Yes,” I say. “Nothing will happen—actually, scratch that, because something will happen… we will make more money since your grabby little hands will finally stop stealing and embezzling from the Pontie account.”
Jenkins’s puffy eyes widen in shock, and the color drains from his face.
“You see,” I continue, taking a step forward, “unlike my father, who loves violence, I love knowledge. Knowledge like how you’ve been double-billing our European distributors for the last three quarters, or how you magically ‘lost’ two million in shipping fees that mysteriously found their way into a shell company registered under your wife’s maiden name. ”
He opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. The idiot is completely paralyzed with fear.
I lean in close and lower my voice so he is the only one who can hear me. “Or how you visit every Wednesday that separate apartment you own in the city, where you wear nothing but a butt-plug tail and a pretty sparkling collar, get on all fours, and pay an escort to treat you like a dog.”
“How—” he chokes out, completely terrified. “How do you—?”
“Great talk!” I say, patting him on the back. “Now, go get your appointment.”
And this time, Mr. Jenkins doesn’t argue… Hell, he doesn’t even look at me.
He just waddles over to Martin to get his appointment.
“Ah, yeah… And Mr. Jenkins?” I call out.
He freezes, slowly turning back to look at me.
“Since this is your first time adjusting to this new management, I’ll let this pass. But don’t you ever test me again. Are we clear, little Balto?”
Jenkins gulps and nods frantically.
“Good boy.”
I turn my back on him, walking over to where Martin is waiting with a clipboard, and I sign the transfer papers he has prepared.
“Make sure to give him his coffee,” I smile and hand the pen back to him.
“Yes, Master Oliver.”
I turn to Silvio, who is standing near the entrance.
“Silvio, you are in charge. If anything happens, call me.”
“Yes, sir,” Silvio says, as he straightens his posture.
Finally, I turn back to Damián, who is already holding the front door open for me, his lips curled in the most beautiful smile.
We step out into the bright afternoon sunlight, and I follow him to his red car.
But the moment we reach the passenger side, Damián grabs me by the hem of my jacket, spins me around, and slams my back against the side of the car.
“Da—” His mouth crashes down onto mine.
I gasp into his mouth, my hands instantly flying up to curl around his neck, pulling him closer to me. Damián presses his body against mine, pinning me to the car.
The contact is absolutely electric. Every point where our bodies touch feels like it’s burning right through our clothes.
Ever since our first kiss in the bathroom, I’ve always thought touching Damián was incredible, but after we had sex… Wow!
Every sensation has multiplied into something I never thought possible.
I melt against him.
My body burns and shivers at the same time, my heart swells, and for the first time in my life, I feel completely alive.
And I absolutely love it.
But just as suddenly as he grabbed me, he pulls back.
He takes a step away, leaving me dizzy, my chest heaving as I struggle to catch my breath. I blink up at him, completely dazed by how good that felt.
“I’m one hundred percent not complaining,” I pant, “but where the hell did that come from?”
“Let’s just say I discovered a new favorite kink.” Damián gives me a quick kiss and smiles. “Blackmailing-Boss Oliver is so fucking hot.”
I burst out laughing, throwing my head back against the car window as the sheer absurdity of a former CIA having a kink for a blackmailer washes away all the tension from dealing with Jenkins.
“I am very glad you liked it,” I say, still smiling as I look up at him. “Does that mean you’ll finally tell me where we are going now?”
“Nice try, mi cielo. But no.”
He reaches out, grabbing my hips to move me out of the way so he can open the passenger door. I glare at him, narrowing my eyes to convey my annoyance, but I still slide into the seat.
The drive is a bit longer than I expected. After thirty minutes of circling different roads, Damián pulls over, and we switch cars, just in case. Then, we drive for another half hour before turning onto a private road that is lined by tall oak trees.
Damián stops in front of a wrought-iron gate, opens his glove compartment, takes out a controller, and opens the gate.
“Fancy!”
“You have no idea…” He grins and drives along the path that’s surrounded by trees.
The beautiful trees are so tall and leafy that they make it seem like we are in a magical tunnel to Narnia… And I think we just arrived in a mystical, magical land, because at the end of the tree-tunnel is the most gorgeous white Antebellum mansion I have ever seen.
Its long columns and wrap-around porches look like something pulled straight out of a romance movie.
“Oh my God… are we meeting the Salvatore brothers? Is that your surprise?… Are we having a foursome?” I tease, and he laughs.
“First of all, I’ll pretend you know who the Salvatore brothers are from the books I lent you, and not because you watched the show,” he says, and I nod.
…Which of course is B.S.
I mean, yeah, I started with his books, but when I saw the show’s cast… Wow!
Let’s say I’m already in season five, but I haven’t opened book two.
“And second of all, the most important point of all,” he continues. “No foursomes, or threesomes, or shit. The only man who gets to touch you is me.”
“Fine… No Salvatore foursome,” I smile, sticking my head out of the window. “But seriously, where the hell are we?”
“We are at Law’s house.”
“This is Law’s house?!” I look back at him. “…Well, I guess it makes sense, considering he’s the heir to English nobility, but still…”
Damián smirks. “Is it weird that I love that you stalked my brothers?”
“Investigated,” I correct, pointing a finger at him. “Not stalked… There is a very big difference.”
“Can you tell me some of their secrets?” he asks.
“Never.”
“How about—”
“—wait…” I gasp, my brain finally catching up to this new information. “This is Law’s house! Dami, why are we at Law’s house?”
He drives around the corner toward the estate’s parking area, and my stomach drops. There are around five vehicles parked there, and Damián parks our car right next to a huge pickup truck.
Damián kills the engine, steps out of the car, and walks around to open my door.
Oh… My… God!
…Is this really happening?
“Dami… tell me Law has a car collection,” I ask as soon as he opens my door.
“He has eleven cars… but these aren’t them,” he says, and laughs at the horrified expression on my face. “Come.”
He offers me his hand, but I refuse to move, gripping the edge of my seat. Damián reaches down, holds my waist, and pulls me out of the passenger seat.
He then wraps his arms around my lower back, holding me against him, probably so I don’t run, and looks me in the eyes.
No, no, no…
A jolt of panic crawls down my spine, and I shiver.
I try to step back, but his tight hold on my waist keeps me anchored in place.
“Cielo,” Damián murmurs gently before kissing my cheek. “I want you to meet my brothers.”
“Absolutely not. I am not prepared for this.”