3. Olivia
Olivia
Crescent Manor was breathtaking. The moment I stepped inside, I felt small in the best way possible.
High ceilings stretched above us; chandeliers glowed pastel over the intricate moldings.
Elegance radiated from every carefully restored detail, from the grand staircase to the floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the snow-covered gardens.
“It’s simply stunning,” I told Nora, who was taking pictures like a tourist.
“Hmmm,” was all I got from her as she walked away.
I wanted to absorb every inch of this magnificent building, but then my eyes locked onto him.
Brett Collins.
My stomach flipped.
Damn it.
I hadn’t seen him in over a decade, so how did he manage to look even better? Time had done criminally good things to him, and those stormy gray-blue eyes were locked onto mine. I couldn’t seem to break free from them. It was like their superpower was to freeze me in time and space.
I seriously needed to get a grip and fast!
Jerritt clapped his hands together, breaking the silence. “Welcome to Crescent Manor, ladies and gentlemen. Today’s mission: figure out how to make this place a money-making masterpiece.”
Thank God for Jerritt. I was staring at Brett again—entirely against my will, obviously—and Jerritt’s interruption was a lifesaver.
He hadn’t always been my favorite person.
Still, at that moment, I could have kissed him for shattering the spell Brett had over me before anyone noticed my ridiculous lapse in professionalism.
“Without ruining its soul,” I added quickly.
Brett’s lips twitched, but his gaze never wavered. “That depends on how you define ‘soul.’”
I stiffened. “You think gutting the character out of this place will somehow improve it?”
Brett stepped closer. “I think a building’s history should serve its future, not trap it.”
I stepped back. “You mean strip it down until it looks like every other generic luxury hotel.”
A slow smile curved his mouth. “Olivia, you wound me.”
I hated that he said my name as if it still belonged to him. I also hated that it made me think of him kissing every inch of my body. I was doomed.
“I’m thinking modern updates while preserving key historical elements,” Vahn interjected, trying to keep the peace. “It would be a great balance.”
“Exactly,” I said, exhaling.
Brett just tilted his head, eyes dark with amusement.
Jerritt groaned. “Can we at least do the damn tour before you two start undressing each other with insults?”
I shot him a look. “No one’s undressing anyone.”
Jerritt grinned. “Not with words, anyway.”
Brett chuckled, the sound deep and rich, and my pulse betrayed me by quickening.
I swore to myself and tried to move away from Brett.
We moved through the manor, Vahn pointing out its structural strengths while Jerritt made jokes about ghost sightings. But my focus kept slipping to Brett and how he insisted on walking beside me. He was close enough to make my skin tingle but not close enough to touch.
And he kept inching even closer with every step.
I’d step to the side, and he’d follow. I’d cross a room, and he’d find a way to be beside me. It was infuriating and sexy as hell.
“You’re hovering,” I groaned as we climbed the grand staircase.
“I’m merely existing.”
“You’re existing too close to me.”
His lips curved. “Your personal space has gotten larger.”
“But my patience has gotten smaller.”
“Still so feisty.” His voice dropped, low and intimate. “It’s one of the things I like best about you, and it turns me on.”
I whirled on him at the top of the stairs. “I don’t care what you like.”
Brett’s smile was slow, deliberate. “Maybe not right now, but in time you will again.”
I clenched my jaw and turned away from him before I said something regrettable and strode into one of the suites. A massive four-poster bed stood in the center, rich mahogany against crisp white linens. A fireplace flickered, the heat curling into the air.
Bad idea.
Brett leaned against the doorway, watching me. “This one’s got potential.”
I forced my focus to the room. “With the right design, yes.”
He stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind him. “It already has charm.”
I turned. “It could be better.”
His gaze dragged over me, slow and knowing. “Could it?”
Heat crawled up my spine. “Are we talking about the room?”
Brett’s eyes darkened. “Are we?”
God, I hated how easily he could do this. Effortlessly, he pulled me back into whatever magnetic force field existed between us.
“Do you ever stop?” I asked, voice unsteady.
His smirk was lethal. “Not when I want something.”
I crossed my arms. “And what is it you want?”
Brett’s voice dropped to a rasp, and he leaned in so close I could feel his breath on my neck. “What do you think I want, Olivia?”
My breath caught in my throat, causing me to cough. My brain screamed at me to walk away, but my body refused to move.
Before I could respond, the door swung open, and Jerritt poked his head in. “Are we scoping out rooms for business or pleasure?”
I jerked away from Brett so fast I almost tripped.
“Relax,” Jerritt said, grinning. “Just making sure you two haven’t killed each other or, you know, done something far more interesting.” He looked at the bed and back at us.
Brett exhaled a laugh while I shot Jerritt a glare. “Not funny, Jerritt.”
“A little bit funny.” He winked, and I looked for something to throw at him.
Vahn appeared behind him. “You’re slowing down the tour.”
Brett’s gaze lingered on me for one more charged second before he moved past, brushing his hand against my hip purposely as he left. A barely-there touch that sent a jolt through me.
I needed air—lots of it, and possibly an exorcism.
The rest of the tour was utter torture. Every room, every hallway, every damn moment, Brett found ways to get close. A guiding hand on my lower back, a whispered comment against my ear, and an infuriating smirk when he caught me staring.
When we reached the ballroom, I was a lit fuse, one spark away from exploding.
“This space is stunning,” Nora said, finally adding to the discussion. “With the right design, it could be absolutely breathtaking.”
I nodded. “Exactly.”
Brett crossed his arms. “And what’s your vision, Olivia?”
“Restore the chandeliers, keep the original molding, and modernize the bar but keep the old-world feel. Warm lighting and rich textures. It would be classic but inviting.”
Brett nodded slowly, then murmured, “You always had a thing for balance.”
I shot him a look. “And you always had a thing for ignoring good advice.”
He stepped closer. “Not always.”
I refused to back away this time. “Just when it mattered.”
His jaw tensed. “Olivia?—”
“Jerritt, you still with us?” Vahn interrupted, oblivious to the fire simmering between us.
Jerritt smirked. “Oh, I’m very entertained.”
I turned on my heel, ignoring how Brett’s presence burned at my back.
As we made our way toward the exit, snow drifting against the windows, Brett leaned in one last time, voice a husky whisper. “This isn’t over.”
I refused to shiver or react.
But I knew, deep down, he was right.
Nora caught my arm the second I stepped into the hallway. “Walk with me.” It wasn’t a request.
I sighed but followed. The air outside the ballroom was cold, and instantly, the heat still burning under my skin from whatever the hell that moment with Brett had been tapered off.
Nora didn’t waste time. “What’s going on with you and Brett?”
I forced a casual shrug. “Nothing.” It was worth a try.
She stopped, turned, and leveled me with a look that could vaporize steel. “Try again.”
I exhaled hard. “He’s my ex.”
Her brows shot up. “I know. You’ve already informed me of that fact. From the way you two were looking at each other, I’d have guessed unresolved sexual tension, not past heartbreak.”
I scoffed. “It ended badly.”
Nora gave me a slow nod, assessing. “And is this going to be a problem?”
I straightened. “Absolutely not.” There was no way I would let Brett Collins mess up my shot at becoming a partner.
She studied me for a beat long and then started walking again. “Good. Because if I see another scene like that in there, you’re off this project.”
I bristled. “That’s a little dramatic, but understood.”
Nora stopped again, turning to me with a smirk. “So, was that little show in the ballroom.”
Heat crawled up my neck. I’d barely touched Brett, barely even spoken, and yet my pulse had pounded like I was standing too close to a live wire. I noticed him looking at me—really looking at me—like he still knew every inch of me.
Which he didn’t. Not anymore.
I lifted my chin. “I promise it won’t happen again.” I made myself sound more resolute this time.
Nora gave a satisfied nod. “Good. Now go back in there and act like the professional I know you are.”
I turned, about to push the ballroom doors open, but of course, Brett was right there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
His lips curved. “So, I’m a problem now?”
I fought the urge to groan. “Do you lurk in hallways for fun?”
“Only when there’s something worth overhearing.” He stepped closer, voice dropping. “You really think you can ignore this?”
“Nothing to ignore,” I lied smoothly.
His eyes trailed down to my mouth, and I hated how my stomach flipped. “If you say so, Shaw.”
I turned to go, but he shifted just enough so his arm brushed against mine. The contact sent a stupid, electric jolt through me.
I inhaled sharply. “Move.”
He grinned. “Say, please.”
I glared at him, but he didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch. The tension between us thickened, pulling so tight I could barely breathe.
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “I don’t do reruns, Brett.”
His smirk deepened. “That’s cute. Because we both know you still feel it.”
I refused to acknowledge the way my body betrayed me. “Enjoy being wrong. See you in the meeting.”
He let me go, but I felt his gaze burning into my back as I walked away.
This was going to be a nightmare.
I slammed my condo door shut, nearly dropping my bag as Mystic darted between my legs, meowing like I had just tried to murder her.
“Oh, trust me, you’re not the only one pissed off,” I muttered, kicking off my heels.
Brett. Of all people. On this project. My project.
I yanked off my coat and threw it onto the sleek leather chair—because I needed something to throw. My pulse still pounded from the way he’d ogled me. It was definitely ogling.
Arrogant. Maddening. And still infuriatingly, unfairly hot.
My phone buzzed. Kansas.
“Tell me you didn’t get arrested.”
I scoffed. “Not yet, but it’s early.”
She snorted. “So, tell me about your first meeting with Brett.”
I groaned, flopping onto the couch. “I hate him.”
“Of course you do.”
“I do!”
Kansas hummed like she didn’t believe me. “So, you’re saying if he pinned you against a wall right now, you’d?—”
“I’d shove him through it.”
She laughed. “Keep telling yourself that, Olivia.”
I told her everything, and when I got to the part where Nora threatened me, she started laughing.
“You’d better be careful. I’m being serious. Remember that you want to make partner, not get fired.”
“I know, but how am I supposed to ignore him when he’s doing crazy, unjust things to every cell in my body?”
“There it is—finally, the truth. You need to shake him from your heart. Build a wall, fortify it, and do not let him punch through it,” Kansas warned.
“How am I supposed to do that when he has iron fists?”
“That’s all on you, my friend.”
“You’re no help. Good night.”
I hung up, tossing my phone aside. I stared up at the ceiling fan.
Then I turned my head and eyed my grandfather clock.
The rhythmic, steady ticking of the pendulum swinging back and forth hypnotized me until the deep, resonant bong scared the living lights out of me, and I fell off the sofa.
Mystic came and sniffed me as if she thought I was an intruder.
“It’s okay, sweetie. I’m not myself today.” That was an understatement. I tried to pet her, but she scooted away and bound up the stairs. I didn’t blame her.
As I made, ate, and cleaned up after dinner, I kept chanting to myself: “I will not let Brett Collins get under my skin.”
Again.
Several hours later, I gave up on having a peaceful evening and got ready for bed. Mystic curled beside me, her tail flicking side to side as she assessed my current mood. “Don’t worry. I’m fine,” I told her, but her “meow” told me she knew differently.
“This is going to be a nightmare, Mystic. A sad, embarrassing, horrifying nightmare.”
I crouched behind a barrier, paintball gun ready and aimed. Kansas’ voice crackled through my earpiece. “You’re hesitating, Olivia.”
“I am strategizing,” I corrected, scanning the field.
“Right. That’s what cowards say before they get lit up.”
I scowled. She wasn’t wrong. My mind kept drifting—Brett, that damn smirk, and how he still had the power to get under my skin.
“Alright,” Kansas sighed. “Clearly, you need motivation.”
A second later, paint exploded against my shoulder.
“What the hell?” I shouted.
“Oops.” Her laugh was pure evil. “Guess you better move.”
I sprinted, dodging another hit. A rush of adrenaline cleared my head. Brett? Irrelevant. My career? The only thing that mattered. I swung out, aimed, and—BAM! It was a perfect shot to Kansas’ ribs.
She grunted. “Well, damn.”
“Oops,” I mocked, grinning.
Kansas laughed, wiping paint from her vest. “There she is.”
I exhaled, rolling out my shoulders. “Okay, I needed that.”
She smirked. “I know.”
We walked off the field, the cold Chicago air biting through our gear.
Kansas bumped my arm. “So, what’s the plan, boss?”
I smirked. “Simple. I win. Brett loses.”
Kansas arched a brow. “That’s it? No intricate battle strategy? No five-step plan to crush his soul?”
I shrugged. “Why over-complicate it?”
She chuckled. “You’re scary when you’re focused.”
“Good.” I pulled off my helmet, shaking out my hair. “Because I refuse to let Brett Collins throw me off my game.”
Kansas slung an arm around my shoulder. “I’m proud of you. Now, let’s grab burgers and celebrate your return to sanity.”
I exhaled, the tension finally easing. “Fine. But I’m paying.”
Kansas smirked. “Of course you are. Consider it payment for dragging you back from the brink of insanity.”
“Thank you. This paintball session was exactly what I needed.”
“I know.” She grinned. She was right. No one knew me better than her.
Except maybe Brett Collins …