Chapter 13 #2
She doesn’t argue. She lets me take her small overnight bag from the floor, slinging it over my shoulder as I wrap an arm around her, guiding her toward the door. Claudia trails after us, her chatter light and insincere.
“Rest well, sweetheart,” she calls out as we reach the door.
I say nothing, though the venom in her tone is obvious to me, even if she tries to hide it behind a smile. When I open the door and step outside with Olivia, Claudia’s voice takes on a new tone—admiration.
“Oh, what a car!” she exclaims, her gaze locked on the sleek lines of my Aston Martin parked in the driveway. “Someone’s doing very well for himself.”
I glance back at her briefly, the flash of greed in her eyes only deepening my disgust. She doesn’t care about Olivia’s exhaustion or comfort—only what she can gain from this arrangement. But I keep my focus on my precious girl, guiding her to the passenger side and opening the door for her.
She hesitates, her expression distant, before climbing in. I lean down, buckling her seat belt carefully before pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her stillness remains, an air of resignation about her that makes my chest constrict.
“You’ll feel better soon,” I promise, brushing my thumb across her cheek. “I’ll make sure of it.”
She nods faintly. I step back, closing the door gently before turning to Claudia again.
“I’ll bring her back later if that’s what she wants,” I say, my tone measured. “Goodbye, Mrs. Bennett.”
“Oh, you must come by the diner,” she says quickly, her smile too bright. “We’d love to show you around. I’m sure you’d be very impressed with how we run things.”
I don’t bother responding. I simply slip into the driver’s seat and start the engine.
Claudia is already forgotten the moment I look at Olivia.
She’s the only thing that matters now. And I’ll make sure she understands that.
No one will ever take advantage of her again.
The road stretches before us, winding through clusters of trees and the occasional clapboard house, but my focus is on Olivia. She sits quietly in the passenger seat, her hands resting limply in her lap, her slender fingers curling slightly, seemingly lost in thought.
She’s been quiet since we left, but I can feel her unease radiating off her like a fragile thread stretched too thin.
When she finally speaks, her voice soft and hesitant. “I’m sorry about my mom.”
The words twist something in my chest, a slow, simmering fury that I have to swallow down before I can respond. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, careful to keep my voice measured. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
She glances at me, her brow furrowing. “Still… She was so—”
“Dismissive,” I finish for her, my tone sharper than I intend. I soften it immediately, adding, “But that’s not your burden to bear. My only concern is you.”
Her gaze lingers on me for a moment longer before she turns back to the window, her shoulders relaxing slightly. I let the quiet settle between us again, content to watch her from the corner of my eye.
Soon enough, the hotel comes into view. Though not up to my usual standards, its clean, understated facade is a stark improvement over the Bennetts’ home. I ensured we had the best suite available—though calling it a “suite” stretches the limits of my generosity.
Olivia steps out of the car gingerly, like every ounce of energy has been wrung from her. I grab her bag from the trunk, slinging it over my shoulder, and place my hand at the small of her back to guide her inside.
The suite is modest but immaculate. The bed is freshly made with crisp white linens, and the faint scent of lavender wafts in the air. Olivia hovers near the doorway, her eyes scanning the room before settling on me.
“Thank you,” she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
I turn to her fully, letting her see the sincerity in my expression. “For what?”
“For coming to get me,” she murmurs, taking a tentative step closer. Her gaze drops to the floor. “I…missed you. Even though it was only a day, I missed you.”
Her words send a jolt of electricity through me, sharp and searing. My heart leaps, and I close the distance between us in a single step.
“Olivia,” I whisper, threading her name with all the reverence it deserves.
She lifts her gaze to mine, her lips trembling, and then she steps into my arms without hesitation.
“I was so relieved when I saw you at the door this morning,” she confesses against my chest, her voice breaking. “I didn’t realize how much I needed you here.”
I hold her close, reveling in the feel of her body against mine. Her words sweep through me like a drug, heady and intoxicating.
I knew it. She needs me.
She’s starting to lean on me, to let herself trust me, and the thought sends a tender ache rippling through my chest.
“I have you now,” I murmur, brushing a kiss to her temple. “I will look after you.”
She nods, her body relaxing against mine.
I cup her face, lifting it gently to meet my gaze. “You are everything to me,” I whisper before leaning down to kiss her.
This time, it isn’t gentle. It’s deep, intentional, every ounce of devotion and possessiveness pouring through that connection. She melts into me, her hands sliding up to my shoulders.
When we finally break apart, her cheeks are flushed, her breathing shallow, and I press my forehead against hers. “I’ll draw a bath for you.”
She nods, slightly dazed, and lets me guide her toward the bathroom.
Once she’s settled, I set her bag down near the dresser and go to the desk, pulling out the room service menu and scanning it with clinical precision. Nothing on the list is remotely impressive, but I choose the most indulgent options available.
I place the order and lean against the desk, my gaze falling on the closed bathroom door. My thoughts turn dark, the simmering anger from earlier coiling tighter, sharper.
Her family has no right to treat her like this.
The audacity of their selfishness fuels my resolve. They don’t deserve her. They never have. And I won’t let them keep taking from her, draining her light until there’s nothing left.
My jaw tightens as I turn toward the window, the pale daylight casting long shadows across the room. I will sever her ties to them, one way or another. She doesn’t need them. She only needs me.
I push the darker thoughts aside, my expression softening as I turn back to the room. By the time she steps out, I will be ready—calm, composed, every bit the protector she needs me to be.
There’s a soft knock at the door, and I rise to answer it.
The server wheels in a tray with a spread that’s the closest this place can get to indulgence.
Eggs Benedict, a stack of Belgian waffles dusted with powdered sugar, a bowl of fresh berries, warm croissants, and a small carafe of freshly squeezed orange juice.
It isn’t the level of opulence I want for her, but it is worlds above anything her parents would have provided.
Olivia emerges from the bathroom moments later, wrapped in a robe, her damp hair falling over her shoulders. She looks better—still pale, still far too tired—but the bath softened some of the tension etched into her features.
“Come eat,” I say, pulling out a chair for her. She pauses briefly, then sits, her fingers tugging at the robe’s belt.
I place a plate in front of her, piling it carefully with food before sitting beside her. She picks at it at first, nibbling on a croissant, but as the minutes pass, her appetite seems to return. I watch as color creeps back into her cheeks, her movements becoming less sluggish with each bite.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, breaking the silence.
She glances at me, her expression softening. “Better. Thank you.”
“Good,” I say. “Do you want to go to the diner after this?”
She nods slowly, setting her fork down. “I should. There’s a lot to do. They’re expecting me to look over the accounts and probably help out front, too.”
I frown, the image of her standing behind the counter, overwhelmed and exhausted, flashing in my mind. “I meant what I said to your mother, Olivia. I will hire someone to help manage the diner in your absence. You’re on break. Let yourself rest.”
Her forehead creases, then she shakes her head lightly. “I can’t ask that of you.”
I reach across the table, grabbing her hand firmly but gently. “I want you to ask that of me. I want you to ask the world from me, Olivia. Let me be someone you can lean on.”
Her lips part slightly, but she doesn’t respond right away. Her gaze drops to the table, her lashes casting soft shadows over her cheeks. “I can’t let myself get used to this,” she says softly, more to herself than to me.
Frustration ripples through me, though I manage to keep my voice level. “Why?”
She hesitates, her fingers tightening slightly around mine. “Because this…this isn’t my reality. You’re everything, Nathaniel. And I’m…just me. I can’t start relying on you to rescue me.” She pauses, then adds even more softly, “What if you…get tired of me?”
Her words hit me like a blade, sharp and unexpected.
She isn’t just doubting my devotion—she’s doubting her worth. It’s the most direct she’s ever been about her fears, and it twists something deep inside me.
I lift her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
“Olivia, I asked you to marry me in New York. And I meant it.” My voice is low, insistent—honest words finally spoken aloud after weeks of silence.
“I’ve been giving you space, waiting for you to be ready.
But nothing has changed for me. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. ”
She gives me a weak smile, the corners of her lips trembling. “That wasn’t a formal proposal,” she murmurs. “There was no ring. You said it in the heat of the moment.”
Desperation surges in my chest, a tidal wave that threatens to drown me.
What more can I possibly do to prove myself to her?
How can she not see that for me, she’s the beginning and end of everything?
She can’t possibly fathom the depths of my obsession, can’t understand that I will never let her go—not even if she begs.
“Is that what you need?” I ask, my voice laced with intensity. “A formality? I’m sorry, baby. I was careless. I let my desperation to have you forever cloud my judgment, and I gave you less than you deserved.”
Her head snaps up, her expression stricken. “No,” she says quickly. “Don’t apologize. I don’t need—”
“Then why won’t you believe me?” I cut in, my voice breaking with a mix of anguish and frustration. “Believe that I’m here for all of it—for all of you.”
She looks away, her shoulders sagging. “Because I’m not good enough for you,” she whispers. “A man like you doesn’t end up with someone like me.”
I can’t hold back anymore. I slide out of my chair and drop to my knees in front of her, taking her hands in mine. “Don’t say that,” I plead, my voice raw. “Don’t ever say that. There is no one else for me, Olivia. There never will be.”
She tries to look away, but I cup her face, forcing her to meet my eyes.
“If you run, I will chase you. If you hide, I will find you. There is no one on this earth who could take you from me, and if they tried, I would destroy them.” My voice drops, every word dripping with conviction.
“You are mine, Olivia. The same way I am yours. Do you understand?”
She nods, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, but I can still see the flicker of doubt in her gaze.
The silence that follows is heavy, but I don’t push her further. We finish the meal in silence, my mind already racing with plans.
When she finally lets me coax her into bed, her fatigue taking over, I watch her for what feels like hours, the weight of her earlier words sinking deep into my chest.
I berate myself for my oversight. I should have done more. I should have given her something solid. Tangible. Impossible to doubt.
But that will change. I will give her the proposal she deserves—one so perfect, so undeniable, that she won’t be able to refuse.
One way or another, she will understand that she is mine. Forever.