23. Olivia
Olivia
Olivia stood in front of the full-length mirror and didn't recognize herself.
Not in a bad way. It was like meeting a part of herself she’d forgotten. The dress fit as if it was made just for her. The silver sash caught the light. The heels added four inches and something else, a new confidence that wasn’t about height.
She looked at herself for a long moment. Not through Mark's eyes, cataloging what he owned. Not even through Nicholas's eyes, wanting to please him. Just through her own.
I like who I am in this.
That was new. That was hers.
She opened the bathroom door.
Nicholas sat on the couch, the suite’s soft light falling across him. The click of her heels broke the quiet. He turned and then went very still, as if he needed a moment to find his next thought.
He took his time looking at her. All of her. His eyes moved slowly, deliberately, like he was committing every detail to something permanent.
When he finally found his voice, it came out low. "God, you are so gorgeous. That outfit is worth ten times what I paid for it."
She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him, not performing or calculating, just needing to be close. His warmth moved through her right away, both grounding and electric.
"Nicholas, I love you."
The words were out before she'd decided to say them.
She felt the words hang in the air between them, impossible to take back. Her heart pounded. Maybe it was the day, the dress, the relief of being safe, or the way he looked at her—she wasn’t sure. But now it was out there, and she couldn’t take them back.
He pulled her into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around her fully, solid and certain.
He didn't say a word.
The silence lasted. Olivia swallowed against the burn in her throat. Had she gone too far? Moved too fast? She pressed her face to his shoulder for a moment, then pulled back and kissed him softly and carefully, not wanting to ruin her makeup or the moment.
He pulled back just an inch, his eyes dark and hungry. "Let's go eat. If we don’t leave now, that dress will end up on the bed next to you."
The flush moved up her neck fast. "I can't wait."
They walked through the lobby hand in hand, the hotel’s quiet luxury all around them. Then Olivia’s pulse changed.
Two men in suits were following them. Same careful distance. Same unhurried pace.
The fear hit her right away, familiar as ever: Little Frankie’s dead eyes, the gun grip catching the diner’s light.
"Nicholas," she said quietly, her hand tightening on his. "I think we're being followed."
He didn’t flinch. He squeezed her hand once, a silent and steady promise. "Don’t worry. They’re with us. I’ll explain at dinner."
At the private elevator, the two men joined them, rode up in silence, and took seats in the waiting area when the ma?tre d' appeared. The restaurant closed around Olivia and Nicholas like something private and safe.
Wine was ordered. Poured. The waiter disappeared. Nicholas reached across the table and took her hand.
"After this morning, I wasn't going to take a chance on it happening again. One of those men followed you from your office here tonight."
Olivia felt the chill settle in her chest. "I didn't notice anyone."
"You weren't supposed to."
"Do you really think we need them?"
"Based on what you told me about your brother-in-law and what happened this morning—yes."
She looked at her hands. The knot in her chest tightened. "Nicholas, I'm really worried about Saturday. Maybe I'll just make a lot of trips by myself until the move is done."
"You can do that," he said carefully. "But based on what happened the last time you were alone with Mark, I'm not sure it's a good idea."
"What else can I do? I can't afford movers, and there's not enough time now, even if I could. Mark had promised to help—before last Saturday."
Nicholas leaned forward. "Let me work on it. In the meantime, if you’re okay with it, I want you to stay here with me at the hotel until you move on Saturday. One of the guys will walk you to and from work each day. I won’t let anything happen to you, Olivia."
She squeezed his hand, her knuckles white. "I feel safe with you, like I’ve known you forever. But you shouldn’t have to deal with this. It’s my trouble, not yours."
His face changed in a way she couldn’t fully read, then softened. "I can’t explain it either. But when you hugged me and said you loved me, it stopped me cold."
Olivia felt her face grow warm. "I didn’t plan to say it. It just slipped out. After I said it, I realized it must be true." She paused. "I’m embarrassed. I didn’t want to make things awkward or put you on the spot."
"You didn’t." His voice was genuine, with no performance in it. "What surprised me was how I felt when I heard it. Normally, I’d want to run. This time I didn’t.
" He held her gaze. "I have strong feelings for you, Olivia, even if they scare me. It’s all happening fast. But I know I don’t want to lose you. And I won’t let anyone hurt you."
The warmth in her chest was quiet and real, nothing like the desperate relief she’d felt all day. She met his eyes, gave him a shaky but real smile, and squeezed his hand. For the first time since the diner that morning, she could finally breathe.
They ate. They talked. The wine was good, and the food was better, and somewhere in the middle of it, the day began to release its grip on her shoulders.
When the plates were cleared, Nicholas leaned closer, his voice dropping. "Dessert?"
Olivia didn't look at the menu. She looked at him. "Yes. What I want for dessert is sitting right in front of me."
The slow, knowing grin that crossed his face was answer enough.
He signaled for the check.
They walked through the lobby hand in hand, Jim and Dan ten steps behind, quiet and professional. At the elevator, Nicholas stopped and looked back at them. "We're good from here."
Jim nodded. "Please text us when you're ready to leave in the morning."
The elevator doors closed. The suite door closed behind them. The world fell away.
Olivia didn't wait.
She took his hand and led him to the bedroom, her choice and her pace, her intention clear in every step. The silver heels clicked against the marble, and she let the sound fill the room for a moment. A few feet from the bed, she let go of his hand and turned.
"You said you wanted to see this dress on the bed beside me," she said. Her voice was steady, even though her heart wasn't. "Watch."
She reached back. The zipper slid down slowly. She let the dress slip over her hips, not rushing or performing, just owning it, until it pooled at her feet. She stepped out and stood in the sheer black bra he’d chosen, the thin line of the thong, the four-inch silver heels.
She didn't look away from him.
She wasn’t doing this because Mark had made her feel like she shouldn’t.
She wasn’t doing it because Nicholas had bought her beautiful things.
She was doing it because she had looked at herself in the mirror a few hours ago and decided that this woman, this specific and complicated woman who was finally becoming herself, deserved to be seen.
Nicholas hadn’t moved. His expression was beyond words: awe, warmth, and something raw that made her feel like the most important person in the room.
"You are absolutely gorgeous," he whispered.
His jacket dropped. His shirt followed, her fingers working the buttons when his were too slow. He kissed her, desperate and a little messy, tasting of wine and wanting. Then they were on the bed, and the night opened up ahead of them, endless.
He moved down her neck, his tongue tracing heat. Her head fell back against the pillow, and a low moan left her before she'd decided to make a sound. His hand found her breast, thumb coaxing slowly, and her body responded with an urgency that surprised even her.
"Oh God, Nicholas, what you do to me."
He moved with a patience she now recognized as his way of paying attention, not rushing to his own finish but truly invested in hers. His fingers brushed the damp silk of her thong, and she lifted her hips without being asked.
"Nicholas." Her fingers tangled in his hair. "Don't go slow. I need you now."
He looked up, his face flushed, a slow smile crossing his mouth. "Someone is about to explode."
"You have no idea."
He moved between her legs, and the first touch of his tongue pulled a sharp gasp from her throat.
She clutched the sheets. He found her sweet spot and held there, and the orgasm broke over her fast and complete, and she cried out into the quiet suite without caring about anything except the feeling.
When it subsided, she pulled him up and kissed him deep, tasting herself on his mouth—heat that sent a new shiver through her immediately.
"I never realized how much I enjoy tasting myself on you," she admitted.
"See? I told you—you taste wonderful."
She pushed him back onto the mattress and leaned over him, her hair falling loose around her face, and took her time—her tongue tracing him slowly, deliberately, feeling him thicken and throb under her attention. She brought him to the edge and then stopped.
He looked at her.
"I need to feel this inside me," she said.
He flipped her over, spread her legs, and slid inside her with a single powerful thrust.
"Yes!"
They found each other's rhythm immediately—fast and hard and unrelenting, the kind that blurred the edges of the room. She pulled her legs back, and he went deeper, and the friction was electric and raw and exactly what she needed.
"Deeper. Harder."
He gave her everything she asked for.
The climax came hard and complete, her whole body shaking. She felt him follow with one last powerful thrust and a guttural sound low in his throat. Then they collapsed together into the sheets, and the silence that followed was the best kind—earned, full, and needing nothing from either of them.
After a moment, he rolled to her side. "You are incredible," he murmured.
"It's what you do to me," she whispered. "I've never felt anything like this before."
The room was quiet. Her thoughts weren't.
She stared at the ceiling for a moment and let what she wanted to say find its shape. Then she turned to him.
"I know I said it before without thinking," she said. "I mean it now." She held his eyes. "I love you, Nicholas. You don't have to say anything back. It's okay. I just want you to know."
He didn't speak.
He looked at her with something new in his expression, something unguarded and real that she hadn’t seen from him before. He pulled her close and held her tighter than he had all night. The kiss that followed was deep and unhurried, saying more than words could.
He said nothing.
It meant everything.
She understood.
They fell asleep tangled together, the city quiet outside the windows, the suite warm and close around them.
Morning arrived too fast. Sunlight filled the room. Nicholas pulled her closer before either of them had fully surfaced. "How much time do we have?"
Olivia glanced at the clock and sighed. "Not enough. I still have to get to Lauren's to change for work." She smiled against his shoulder. "But lying here with you—I might have to come back for lunch."
His laugh was warm. "I'll be in the Tampa office today. Meet you back here after work."
He stretched and sat up. "Pizza and wine tonight? We stay in?"
Olivia reached for her clothes, smiling at the simplicity of it. A hotel room. Pizza. Him.
"That sounds perfect."