Chapter 8
Reed
After an hour spent staring at a dry, clinical piece of paperwork, it’s impossible for me to keep my eyes off of Olivia as she leaves my bathroom.
I probably should’ve waited for her in my office, but… I’ll admit it, I wanted to catch a glimpse of her as she got out of the bath. I don’t regret it, either. She’s wrapped in a towel, but she lets it fall in order to get dressed.
I looked away while she was in the tub, but I can’t help watching her now. It feels as though the temperature in my bedroom is ten degrees higher than the thermostat reads, even though we’re on opposite sides of the room.
When she’s finally dressed, she looks up at me, holding her arms out to the sides. “Okay. Ready to go.”
“Let’s do it.” I gesture for Olivia to follow me, and together, we head to my office.
Olivia scans the printed copy of the contract, nodding to herself as she comes to the clauses that we discussed over breakfast. She purses her lips in concentration as she reads. When she gets to the end, she looks up.
“All good?” I ask.
She nods. “All good.”
I reach for a pen on the desk, appending my signature to the document. I hand it to her, and she hesitates for a moment before signing.
“Okay,” I tell her. “You ready for the fun part?”
She looks apprehensive, but relief floods her expression when I pull a checkbook out of my pocket. With a flourish, I scribble down the amount and sign my name at the bottom. I add the date—six months from now—and tear it off, handing it to her.
“Once this is over, you can go ahead and cash that,” I say with a smile.
She stares at the slip of paper for a long time, her eyes wide—taking in all of the zeros. Then she takes a deep breath and looks up at me.
I can tell that she’s still nervous about everything, but the fact that her finances are taken care of—for herself and her family—is an obvious weight off of her shoulders.
The fact that I’m able to give her that comfort tugs at something inside me. It was so simple, and yet, it gave her such relief.
I shake my head, trying to remind myself that there are no feelings involved in this contract. It’s not about what I can do for her. It’s about the mutual benefits gained before we amicably part ways at the end.
“So,” she says, a little bit of humor in her voice, “now what, dear?”
“Ugh.” I grimace melodramatically. “We have got to work on your sweet talk. Don’t call me ‘dear.’ You sound like my grandmother.”
She laughs, and it’s nice to hear her laugh. It makes this all seem more normal.
In an effort to make it even more normal, I pull out my phone and open up a group text.
I add Cole, Declan, Riley, and Sophie, then puzzle for a moment over whether there’s anyone else who should know.
Shane, probably, since he’ll be finding out from my father anyway.
Noah, too. He’s been at the last few poker nights, so he probably needs to be included on this secret.
“What are you doing?” Olivia asks.
“Sending a text to our friends,” I reply. “I’m inviting them over for dinner so that we can let them in on what’s happening.”
Olivia’s eyes widen instantly, and she reaches out to grab at my arm. “Wait. Don’t.”
I glance down at her. “Why not? They’re going to have to know eventually. Unless you’d rather let Riley think that we’re actually engaged.”
“I don’t think I’m ready to tell people about this yet,” she admits.
I can sympathize with that, but there’s no other option.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” I remind her, feeling guilty; though really, if anyone should feel guilty, it’s my father.
“We need to get moving on this. Our entire engagement is only going to last six months, so I’d rather if our friends were aware of it right from the start. ”
Olivia nods as my words sink in, then exhales, like she’s trying to pull herself together. Outwardly, she looks calmer, but I can tell that she’s still freaking out internally. “Okay. As long as it’s just a small group.”
“It will be,” I promise. “How does seven sound to you?”
“That’s fine.”
I finish typing the message, then fire it off and tuck my phone back into my pocket.
“What room will I be staying in?” She looks curiously over her shoulder, back toward the hallway. “I saw a bunch while I was poking around.”
Part of me—a persuasive, loud part—wishes I could tell her that she’d be staying in my room. That we’ll be sharing my bed. I liked seeing her in that familiar setting as she got dressed. I liked walking in on her in the bathtub, comfortable in my space.
But I ignore this impulse; it’s probably not wise.
Instead, I walk toward the door and gesture for her to follow.
“You’ll be staying in one of the guest rooms.” In the hallway, I point to the left, toward the opposite end of the hallway.
My penthouse spans the width of the entire building, with windows in the rooms on both ends.
“Thanks.” She gives me a grateful smile. “I’m gonna go get ready for dinner and unpack, if that’s okay.”
“Sure. I need to make a call, anyway.”
Olivia heads back to the living room to gather her belongings, and I retreat into my office, closing the door behind me for privacy. I hear the wheels on Olivia’s suitcase as it trundles past the door. Once she’s out of potential earshot, I pull out my phone and dial my father’s number.
Lionel picks up on the third ring. “This better be good news, Reed.”
“It is,” I say. “I’ve found someone willing to work with us on the image repair project.”
“That is good news.”
“She’s already signed the paperwork,” I say, glancing at the completed contract on my desk. “We should be good to go.”
“Who is it?”
At this question, I hesitate. I know that my parents likely wouldn’t consider Olivia an acceptable choice; her mother was one of their staff throughout my childhood, and I’m sure that Lionel is hoping I’ll be engaged to some socialite.
Instead of answering, I change the subject. I can broach that topic at a different time—probably whenever my father has to meet Olivia.
“How are things coming with Dubai? Is Shane—”
“Fine,” my father says dismissively. I can just picture him waving a hand at me. “Don’t concern yourself with it. Shane is handling it—like he’ll be handling everything, if you can’t reform your reputation with the public.”
The reminder stings, but I press on. “Yeah. Great. Glad it’s going well.”
“The lawyers will have an ironclad contract drafted this week,” my father continues. “Bring the girl in so that she can sign it as soon as possible, understood?”
“Yes. Understood.”
“We need to plan how we’re announcing your engagement. There’s no time to waste. I’m penciling you in for a meeting with the PR team on Monday.”
“I’ll be there,” I assure him.
“Good. You’d better be.” There’s something settled in his voice, like he’s about to end this conversation.
Quickly, before he can, I ask, “By the way, before you go—I have a quick question.”
“What do you want?” His voice is irritable. “I have a lot on my plate right now.”
“Of course. I was just wondering… when was the last time you saw Mrs. Quinn?” I try to keep my voice level as I bring up Olivia’s mother. I don’t want to make him suspicious.
“Who, the housekeeper?” My father scoffs. “Haven’t seen her since I fired her.”
“You fired her?” That’s news to me. “When? Why?”
“Some years back. She was taking too many sick days. What does this have to do with anything, anyway? You know I’m busy.”
My grip on the phone tightens. The idea of Mrs. Quinn being fired like that—especially since I know she’s really ill—doesn’t sit right with me, but I can’t say anything else. I’ll have to look into it later on my own.
“Ah, never mind,” I say. “It’s nothing. I’ll talk to you—”
The dial tone sounds in my ear. My father hung up before I could even finish my sentence.
Typical.
“Later,” I mutter to myself, lowering the phone.
After a conversation like that, I need a drink. Speaking to my father never fails to stress me out. I keep a decanter of whiskey on the bookshelf in my office for that very reason.
I pour myself a drink and settle back. If my friends are coming over tonight, I need to loosen up a little before they arrive. Nobody gets me wound up like Lionel, and I don’t want Cole or Declan to think that anything is wrong. I need their support through all of this.
For a while, I’m alone in my office, which is a good refresher after that call. It’s around twenty minutes before I’m interrupted by the buzz of my phone. I glance at it; there’s a text from my assistant.
I get up and head over to my private elevator just as the soft chime sounds and the doors slide open. My assistant, Nate, holds a package out to me. “The gift you ordered,” he says.
“Thanks, Nate.” I take the package. Earlier, while I was drafting the contract, I got sidetracked looking for a gift for Olivia—a thank-you present. She’s doing me a huge favor, and even if she’s being paid for it, I’m still grateful. Plenty of people would’ve turned me down.
Nate gives me a nod, then leaves. I glance down the hall and make eye contact with Olivia, who has her head poked out of her new room, a quizzical expression on her face. She must have heard the elevator.
“What’s that?” she asks curiously, emerging from the room. Her hair is down, cascading over her shoulders, and looks freshly styled.
I hold up the package. “It’s for you.”
“For me?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Little token of my appreciation.”
She approaches cautiously, as if she’s worried the package will contain a live grenade, or something. I set it in her arms, and she opens the top of it to reveal a carefully-folded, elegantly-embroidered bodice of silver chiffon.
She stares from the dress to me, open-mouthed. “This is for me?”
“Well, I don’t think it’d fit me,” I say, deadpan.
“But—but I didn’t—”
“It’s no big deal,” I say with a shrug. “There are some shoes in there, too. Something to wear tonight, if you want.”
“No big deal?” she repeats, shaking her head. “This is amazing. I love it.” She pulls the dress free from the package, letting the skirt fall, and gasps a little. The fabric ripples like a stream of quicksilver, trailing to the floor. “It’s beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Something inside me warms at the expression on her face. I’m surprised, to be honest; I didn’t think she would react so strongly, or like this gift so much, and seeing that joy on her face…
Shit. I’ve got to get my act together, or this will all fall apart before it even begins. That’s at least the third time I’ve caught myself getting sucked into this, in a way that might screw everything up.
“Anyway,” I say, looking away abruptly. “I’ll leave you alone to get dressed. Everyone’s coming over at seven for dinner, and my personal chef will be here at six to prepare. Is that good with you?”
“Of… of course.”
“Good.” With a nod, I turn and retreat back into the safety of my office, closing the door behind me.
Declan and Sophie are, predictably, the first to arrive. They show up ten minutes early, bringing me out of my sanctuary and into the open foyer of the penthouse. I shake Declan’s hand, and bow slightly to Sophie, which makes her roll her eyes and laugh.
Olivia appears in the doorway to the guest room, now wearing her new dress and the matching silver heels. I got her stilettos, with heels six inches tall and sharp enough to injure someone; I’ve noticed that she likes to go for height with her footwear.
Makes sense. The shoes give her the extra height she conspicuously lacks. Now, the top of her head almost reaches my shoulder, instead of mid-chest.
She looks stunning in the dress, too. I have the fleeting thought that the dress was a mistake, because I really want it on my bedroom floor.
Declan gives me a puzzled frown, but neither he nor Sophie reacts much to Olivia’s appearance. It’s when Riley, Cole, and Noah arrive together that I get the most surprised looks—a curious one from Riley, who whispers something to her friend, and a hard one from Cole, who must be suspicious.
I don’t blame him. The optics aren’t great, and he has no idea what’s going on at the moment. He must think I’m sleeping with Riley’s best friend, and he knows my history well enough to be concerned.
Shane shows up last, at seven exactly, and all of us head to the dining room. As we take our seats around the table, Olivia moves toward Riley and Sophie, like she’s going to sit between the two of them, but I meet her gaze as I pull out the chair beside me.
She comes over to me, and I whisper, “Sorry. We need to be a united front, remember?”
Olivia nods, taking her seat. “Of course.”
For a while, I let the chatter flow around us at the table. My chef, a guy I hired after a restaurant went under in midtown, serves us the first course, a fresh salad. After a few minutes, I tap my knife against my glass, drawing everyone’s attention.
I clear my throat. “So,” I say, “you’re probably all wondering why we’ve gathered you here today.”
They all stare at me blankly. I glance at Olivia, noticing the color rising in her cheeks. I can practically feel the tension coming off of her. Our friends are probably going to be shocked, and she’s bracing for that reaction.
To take some of the pressure off of her, I opt to take the lead. Better to get it over with quickly, like jumping headfirst into cold water.
“Olivia and I are getting married.”