Remy

45. Olivia

OLIVIA

Burstinginto tears isn’t the most opportune way to show appreciation for the mind-blowing orgasm. But there’s no restraint to hold back like there previously was. The nausea option is no longer available. There’s only painfully blinding tears. And given the trauma surrounding Remy’s first sexual experience and his fear about causing issues with mine, it only makes me cry harder.

I apologize over and over.

He holds me tighter, stroking my waist, slowly coaxing me back from the darkness with his words of affirmation until I fall into an exhausted sleep.

When I wake it’s to an empty stomach, my need for food so painful I have to figure out if I’m willing to do a midnight walk of shame or raid Remy’s kitchen.

Given I don’t have my phone, which means no money and no way of calling a ride share, I opt to creep from his bed and help myself to his heavily stocked fridge.

It doesn’t take long for him to find me.

A few minutes later he’s back between my thighs, spoiling me with more bliss.

I swear I didn’t think history would repeat itself with a renewed bout of post-coital blubbering—it’s definitely not a routine I want to encourage—but as soon as the orgasmic high is over, I’m back, digging in the trenches of my sorrow. Sobbing. Sniffling.

It can’t be healthy for any man’s ego to have a woman bawling uncontrollably after sex, but Remy takes it in stride. Always supportive. Forever my savior.

I think my downfall is caused from guilt.

I want so badly to be distracted from my grief that I seek out his affection. Then once the euphoria is gone, the weight of sadness returns ten times heavier than it was before.

But as I blink awake to the morning sun creeping around the edge of the curtains, Remy isn’t beside me, and the sheets where he once laid are now cold.

“Don’t go snooping down that hall,” his whisper-shout carries in the distance from the other side of the closed bedroom door.

The patter of little feet scurrying along the hall makes me stiffen.

“Tilly,” he coos.

Tilly? Does he have a dog?

I sit up, carefully holding the covers to my naked chest, the pile of folded clothes on my bedside table catching my eye. There’s fresh underwear, a white lace bra, my favorite Too peopley outside T-shirt, and my loose grey yoga pants.

He went to my house to get clothes?

I wait for the irk of apprehension to take over. It doesn’t come. I don’t care if he’s been in my home without me. I can’t even summon the will to care if his men did.

All I feel is gooey gratitude.

I trust him. More than logic and commonsense should allow.

I pull on the underwear while still beneath the covers.

“Little miss Tilly,” Remy warns. “Get your butt back here now.”

A tiny girl giggle sounds from the other side of the bedroom door, followed by the quick scurry of retreating feet.

Not a dog. A child.

I hustle into the clothes then sit on the side of the bed, taking stock of my senses. My head is heavy, all the tears having left my face a little swollen and sore. And apart from attributing those same sensations to much more intimate parts of my body for much more enjoyable reasons, I feel okay. Not great. Not perfect. But a small step closer to stable.

I freshen up in the bathroom… finger-brush my teeth… re-braid my hair. Then I pad into the hall, nervous over the indecipherable murmurings of adult conversation between Remy and a woman coming from down the hall.

Facing unfamiliar people isn’t my preference on a good day, but this morning my introverted nature is heightened at the thought of seeing anyone other than Remy.

My heart is in my throat as I approach the opening to the living room when a little girl’s face peeks into the hall, her beautiful blonde hair loose around her shoulders.

Her eyes widen at the sight of me. She squeaks, then dashes back out of view.

I can’t help smiling. Okay, so maybe I can handle the contagious exuberance of an angelic child. Adults, on the other hand…

I reach the end of the hall in time to see her jump onto the sofa in her bright pink dress and fall dramatically into Remy’s lap.

He grunts with exaggeration, then wraps her in his arms. “I hope you weren’t getting into mischief.” He narrows his eyes on her with playful scrutiny. “You know I can smell trouble.”

She nuzzles into him, completely at home in his arms.

I stand stunned, in awe of the man capable of such viciously violent atrocities who is equally adept at dispensing compassion and protection.

I never imagined this side of him, though. The paternal aspect.

“You, my dear girl—” He tickles her ribs. “—are a gremlin.”

“She is not.”

I turn my gaze toward the woman’s voice carrying from across the room, my heart poised to break at the thought of him fathering someone else’s child until I see his sister standing in the kitchen, palming a steaming coffee mug. She’s flawless in a stylish pantsuit, her blonde hair cascading down her back.

“She’s a principessina.”

Remy rolls his eyes. “Since when do you know Italian?”

“Since Bishop started whispering things in my ear during adult-time that I don’t understand.”

Remy gags. “Do you want me to vomit on your kid?”

“Yuck, Unkie Remy.” The little girl claps a hand to his chest.

I clear my throat, wanting to make myself known before I intrude any further. I slowly pad into the room, the weight of everyone’s attention making my cheeks heat. “Morning.”

“Hey.” Remy plops the little girl on the sofa cushion beside him, stands and walks toward me, entirely edible in dark jeans and a black T-shirt. “How are you?”

I force a smile, then find it isn’t hard to maintain once he sweeps an arm around my neck to place an affectionate kiss to my temple. “I’m doing better.”

“Did the gremlin wake you?” he asks against my skin.

I shake my head and snuggle farther into him. “Thanks for the clothes. Did you go out while I was sleeping?”

“No. I’d never leave you without notice.”

I pull back. “Then who?”

“Abri and her scary-ass husband.”

His sister snorts. “I heard that.”

My heart gives an exaggerated thud. “Who’s her husband?”

“Bishop. He was at the funeral yesterday. Apparently Lesley took a shining to him. The old girl must be a sucker for ugly bastards with hideous scars.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.” His sister takes a sip from her mug, still standing in the kitchen. “I’m sure he’d love to hear your opinion on his appearance.”

“It’s not like I wouldn’t say it to his face…” Remy speaks into my hair. “If I had a substantial head start at a run to freedom.”

I lightly tap his chest in a subtle attempt to regain his attention. “They spoke to Lesley?”

“Mmm.” He nods. “Spoke to her and got invited inside for iced tea, apparently.”

My brows knit. “You’re lying.”

“I’d never lie to you.” He nuzzles his nose against mine and kisses me, sweet and soft, only to pull away with a growl at the sound of a kiddie giggle. “I guess I should introduce you to the gremlin.” He entwines his hand with mine. “Tilly, come meet my Ollie.”

My Ollie.

The heartbroken organ inside my chest heals itself a little.

The sweet girl runs along the sofa, plops down at the closest end, and peers up at me with shy eyes.

“Say ‘hi,’ Til.” Abri approaches her daughter.

“Hi.” The girl shrinks into her tiny shoulders, her long, dark lashes framing beautiful blue eyes.

“Hi, Tilly.” I smile. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Don’t be fooled by her timid act. Once she gets to know you she’ll cling like super glue.” Abri places her mug on the sofa side table and continues toward us. “We haven’t formally met, but I am this smitten man’s older and wiser sister.” She scowls at her brother. “Release her so I can get a hug.”

Remy sighs with exaggeration. “Fine. I’ll make Ollie breakfast.” His hand skims my lower back as he walks around me to the kitchen.

A second later I’m engulfed in the beautiful woman’s arms.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Olivia.”

The pity pokes at my grief, but the hug is warm and inviting. A genuine embrace full of solace and loving energy.

I hug her back, surprisingly soothed by her presence. “Thank you for yesterday,” I whisper.

“You might want to retract that statement after you spend months retrieving Tupperware from the wrong cupboards in your catering kitchen.” She releases me and retreats. “But I promise Layla and I tried our best.” She turns to reclaim her mug from the side table, then saunters away. “Come sit with me at the dining table.”

I glance from her to Remy, who stands at a Keurig machine, a subtle frown marring his brow.

“Don’t scare her away, Abri,” he warns. “She’s been through enough.”

“Pfft.” His sister waves a dismissive hand as she reaches the glass table with its orchid centerpiece. She pulls out a chair for me before moving to sit on the one beside it. “I think you did enough scaring away for all of us. What could I do that you haven’t already mastered?”

I fight a chuckle.

I love these two together. They’re light and fun. A far contrast from when Remy and Salvatore are in close proximity.

“So tell me all the gossip.” Abri palms her mug and takes a sip of the steaming liquid. “I’ve heard my brother’s side of things for months, but I’ve been going insane waiting for the second half of this telenovela.”

I blink at her in confusion.

“I’ll call security, Abri.” Remy growls. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“You threatened me with that yesterday, and I still tidied your apartment. I’m starting to regret my efforts.”

“You tidied up?” I ask, wanting to double back to the whole second-half-telenovela conversation, but this is a far safer option.

She nods. “You should’ve seen this place. It was a mess. There were empty liquor bottles and take-out food containers everywhere. Now it’s a shrine in comparison.”

A pang of guilt twists my gut. What exactly has Remy been going through?

As if called by my thoughts, he walks over and places a coffee down in front of me. “Strong, cream, one sugar.”

My confusion increases. “How do you?—”

“Berkeley Springs.” He strides back toward the kitchen and clatters pans on his stove. “I asked that A-hole chef.”

“The same chef you told me you envisaged gutting like a pig?” Abri asks.

“Don’t test me, sis,” he mutters.

I hide a smile behind my coffee mug and take a sip. “Thank you, Remy.”

He shoots me a wink and carries on with his project at the stove.

“So…” Abri drawls. “Can you see yourself having kids?”

I choke, the hot liquid shooting up my nose.

“Abri,” Remy shouts.

Tilly giggles from the sofa.

“What?” Abri looks at me in mock surprise. “I’m just making conversation.”

I can’t help laughing as I wipe my nose, my cheeks, my lips, cleaning up the spluttered coffee.

I’m lighter than I have been in months, the weight of pain and heartache easing. There’s something about the playful camaraderie between mother, daughter, and uncle that makes me feel at home.

“All jokes aside,” Abri says quietly. “He’s been beside himself. I had high hopes after your weekend away. But the past few days have had me worried you two wouldn’t pull through.”

I ignore the sadness attempting to edge its way back in. “I wasn’t sure how things would pan out either. I guess I’m still uncertain,” I admit. “This isn’t a typical sort of situation. I’m new to all this.”

She levels me with a kind smile. “It’s not typical, but it doesn’t need to be complicated either. He loves you, and I have a feeling you love him?—”

“I do.” I nod.

“—so just spend time loving each other for a while. The family business might not be something you’re accustomed to, but neither is Remy. You can work it out together.”

I turn my gaze to him as he remains at the stove, focused on something in the pan in front of him while he lazily holds a spatula.

For a second, I could almost kid myself into believing he could leave ‘the life’ and become an average Joe with a nine-to-five, a mortgage, and a predictable routine.

Yet despite thebusiness being new to him, it’s his vibe.

I think it’s where he belongs. And given the lines I’ve recently crossed, I think I could see myself belonging there, too.

“If you choose to give him a chance,” Abri continues, “I have a feeling he’ll obsessively adore you for as long as you’ll let him. He’d move heaven and earth to make sure nothing else came between you.”

Warmth builds inside me. Hope, too.

I believe her.

I believe in him.

“Exactly what has he told you?” I ask with narrowing eyes. “I didn’t picture Remy as the type to kiss and tell.”

She pulls an expression of disgust. “Believe me, I wish he wasn’t. There are things that shouldn’t be shared between siblings. But apparently he didn’t get the memo. Or he’s just been so caught up in the thought of losing you that he doesn’t care. Which means I’ve heard a whole heap of stuff that I’ve had to unpack with my therapist.”

My cheeks heat. “Like…?”

“Well, obviously I was at the club the night you got attacked, so we’ve talked a lot about his guilt concerning that. Then he told me what happened the night he got shot.” She raises a brow and sips from her mug. “And I’m not talking about your suture skills.”

The heat turns to an inferno.

Remy told his sister about the orgasm he gave me in the bathroom?

“And there were the unending phone calls about his hang-ups with your—” She winces “—inexperience. That guy has an unhealthy amount of trauma from childhood, but apparently not enough to dissuade him obsessing over getting in your pants.”

I gape and snap my devastation toward Remy. “He told you I was a virgin?”

“Was?”Abri grins.

Oh, God.

I cover my eyes with a hand, trying to hide my mortification and the uncontrollable need to laugh.

Scurrying footsteps patter toward us. “Momma, what’s a ver-shin?”

I drop my mug to the table, needing both hands to hide the mortified humor mix as Abri cackles.

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Remy’s thudded footsteps approach. “Abri, did you upset her?” He pulls out my chair and grabs my wrist, hauling me protectively into his chest. “I can’t tell if you’re about to laugh or cry.” He drags the remaining hand from my face as I struggle to compose myself.

“Unkie Rem, what’s a ver-shin?” Tilly asks.

He stiffens.

Abri releases another uprooting cackle.

I lunge forward, hiding my face in Remy’s neck as I burst into a fit of laughter.

“Okay, time to leave,” he demands, wrapping a tight arm around my waist as I convulse against him. “Out, Abri. And take your little demon spawn with you.”

“Aww. Unkie Remy. I wanted to go to the park.”

“Blame your mother. She’s the ruiner of all things.”

“No.” I place a hand to his chest, struggling to breathe through the laughter. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s okay.” Abri pushes from her chair, still chuckling. “I told Bishop we’d only be an hour, and that was two hours ago. We need to get back to D.C.”

I wipe away the happy tears streaming down my cheeks and turn to face Remy’s sister and niece who both smile at me—Abri with a knowing glint and Tilly with clueless exuberance.

“I’d thank you for the visit,” Remy mutters, “but that would require gratitude I currently lack.”

“Oh, stop it.” I nudge him in the ribs with my elbow, earning an umph and a tighter hold around my waist.

“Watch it or you’ll unlock a new kink,” he growls in my ear. “I think I might like it rough.”

My laughter dies as more heat floods my face… parts down south, too.

I may be swollen from his enthusiastic attention last night, but apparently that has no effect on the rabid hunger of my libido.

“Out,” he snaps again.

Tilly whimpers and rushes around the table, throwing her arms around Remy’s thigh. “Bye, Unkie Remy.”

He releases me with a frown and stumbles backward, shaking his leg as if trying to dislodge a humping dog.

“Remy,” I say, aghast.

“Don’t take any notice of him,” Abri murmurs as she comes to stand beside me, rolling her eyes as Tilly giggles against her uncle’s thigh, having the ride of her life. “They have a theatrical relationship. They play-fight and mock each other all the time. I’m sure showing affection through sarcasm and ridicule will affect her later in life, but for now, it’s a dynamic they both need.” She shrugs. “And apart from Bishop, nobody makes her smile like he does.”

She turns to me, her expression thoughtful. “I feel slightly ill saying this—” Her voice is almost a whisper. “—But my brother is a great guy. This brother,” she clarifies. “Not the middle one. He’s got a few screws loose.”

I chuckle and Tilly screams as Remy hefts her into his arms, smothering her with an attack of kisses.

“I understand we don’t know each other. And this is seriously left field. But if you ever need anything please call me.” Abri grabs my hand and gives a squeeze. “I’m not usually a people person, but I really like you. And us women in tricky situations need to stick together. So I’m giving an open-ended invitation if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, or a drinking buddy to celebrate with.” She cringes. “I’d prefer not to talk about my brother’s sex life if that’s at all possible—because, ya know, psychological trauma and all that—but I’m here for you both if you ever need it.”

I wiggle my hand from hers and wrap my arms around her, shamelessly becoming a hugger for the first time in my life. “I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

She hugs me back. “Again, you may regret that, but until then...” She pulls away with a grin. “Look after my brother and make sure he looks after you.”

She walks away, wrangling her giggling daughter from Remy’s arms before leaving in the elevator.

As soon as they’re gone, the penthouse descends into palpable silence, the sound of Tilly’s giggles still ringing in my ears.

“They were too much, weren’t they?” He meets my gaze from a few feet away, his expression pinched. “I should’ve told them not to come.”

“Not at all.” I go to him. “Your sister is incredible.” I sink against his chest, loving how easily I find comfort in him.

“Incredibly annoying,” he mutters into my hair.

I grin, understanding the insult for what it is—disguised love.

“How are you?” I ask.

He plants a kiss to my temple. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Yes, I do.” I lean away to meet his gaze. “That’s how this works. At least it’s how I want it to work. You’re grieving, too, Remy. I want us to be there for each other.”

His lips lean in a sad smile. “I’m holding up okay, Pyro. Having you here makes it easier.”

“I’m glad.” I sink back into him. “I’ve enjoyed being here.”

“Is that because of the sex that makes you sob uncontrollably or the fact you have to scavenge for food?”

“It’s definitely the sobbing sex. I don’t think anything has branded my award-winning level of unhinged quite like that does.”

He snickers into my hair, his palms skimming my hips. “You’re not unhinged.”

“And you’re not responsible for me sobbing after sex. I really hope you understand that.”

He plants another delicate kiss to my temple. “I do. I just wish I could take away your pain.”

“Nothing can take it away, Remy. But being with you distracts me from it like nothing else does.”

“Good. I was hoping to create an unhealthy reliance so you never want to leave.”

I chuckle. “Consider me well and truly ill.”

“Does that mean you plan on staying a while?”

I should ponder my answer. Should think it over extra hard considering the potential for disaster. But I don’t want to.

I love Remy.

I want to be with him.

And while his presence fills the gaping hole in my chest, I want to remain as close to him as possible. “I’ll stay until I wear out my welcome.”

“Forever it is then.” He palms my cheeks, tilting my face up to his. “I’ll always want you here.” He places more pieces of my broken soul back together as his lips brush mine. “But before I get carried away, I want you to eat breakfast.”

He releases me.

“Wait.” I grab his hand. “I want to ask you something, but I need you to promise you won’t feel obligated to respond in a certain way.”

“Ask.”

I drag in a deep breath and entwine our fingers. “I have to do something, and I’d really like if you were there with me, but it’s not the type of request someone would usually make.”

“I’ll do it, Ollie. Whatever it is, you don’t need to ask.”

“For this, I do. Because as much as I want you with me, what would make me happier is if you made the choice that was right for you… but I won’t know what that is unless you answer honestly. Can you do that for me?”

His shoulders straighten as he scrutinizes me. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

“Then tell me what it is.”

I wince against the resurgence of grief that’s impossible to ignore. “I have to finish things with Dad.”

His chin hitches. “The cremation?”

I nod. “I want to take care of the formalities as soon as possible. For his sake as well as mine.”

His eyes narrow in confusion, the slightest frown marring his brow. “And you want me there?”

“Yes.” I wrap my free arm around my middle. “And I know Dad would, too. But like I said, I’d prefer if you told me what’s best for you and the way you want to approach your grief.”

His gaze softens, his lips kicking slightly in a sad smile. “Ollie, I’d be honored.”