Chapter Fifteen #2
When she asks what Olivia has to say about integrity in her branding and being honest with subscribers, the host holds up her hand, and I kid you not, says, “I think we’ve heard enough from you. Shall we try someone else?” Priceless.
Millie splutters into the microphone. Not only has she been shot down by Olivia, but she’s effectively been dismissed by one of the legends of fitness journalism.
The crowd chuckles and Olivia gives me an awkward face. I just wink and love seeing her blush up there, knowing I’m the one affecting her.
“Are you single, Olivia?” someone yells out from the crowd as laughter breaks out from the audience.
I jump to my feet, turn, and find the guy in question.
His face falls instantly as I point my fingers to my eyes and then point them straight at him.
He flinches like he took a bullet, sitting down immediately.
Motherfucker.
“I guess the gentleman in the front row has answered that question.” The host laughs.
Olivia hides her face for a moment, smiling, “Don’t mind him, that’s just my bodyguard.”
The crowd rumbles with more laughter.
“You’ll pay for that, Killer,” I mouth to her. She winks and turns back to the host.
After the talk, she is swarmed. For a moment, I think I might actually have to play bodyguard. But she handles the crowd like a pro, even if she is inching herself closer to me as she does so.
She takes a few selfies with some gym bunnies who claim they’ve never had such toned legs before doing her workouts. She says it’s a real Legally Blonde moment, which I pretend not to understand, but bend and fucking snap all you like, my love.
I hold the cards and merch she’s received as part of her introductions with brands. She has meetings booked in for later in the expo, and some online meetings next week, too. She’s even been offered to fly out to Aspen to do a winter clothing line shoot. She almost squeals when we leave the booth.
“You’ve got to control your face a bit more,” she says, taking a swig of water.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve got this look on your face that says you’re going to pummel anyone that gets too close to me.”
“Excellent. That was just the look I was going for.” I wink.
“If you’re bored, I can give you my room key. I’ll be done in an hour.”
“I’m not leaving you. Besides, this is fun, seeing you in action.”
She looks unsure, but nods anyway.
By the time we finish up, I’m dead on my feet.
How she stays so fucking happy all the time, I have no idea.
It must be exhausting putting your customer-service face on for ten hours straight.
In my job at least, my face could show how I feel—which is mostly indifferent.
She has to look happy regardless of what’s going on.
Toward the end of the day, she slips her hand into mine. Her shoulders have slipped from their perfect posture and she lets out a large yawn.
“Tired?”
“Exhausted. We have dinner plans tomorrow night with Nicole and Josh from Cowgirl Clothing, the Texas brand, but can we just stay in tonight? I wanna get in bed, put on a movie, and just chill.”
“Whatever you want, Killer. Let’s get room service.”
“Ooh, I’ve never had room service before! I’m going to go full Kevin McCalister.” She laughs, rubbing her hand across her palm like she’s throwing money around.
“Anything you want.” She could have asked me to take her to dinner in Paris, and I would have said yes.
“We should get you a key to the room from the front desk,” she says, pushing me through the hotel lobby.
“I have a room. I asked them to move your things.”
“And they did it? Without asking me?” She frowns.
“I can be very persuasive when I want to be.” I shuffle from foot to foot. I keep thinking back to Dr. Alfie’s advice. Take things slow. Let her adjust. Don’t rush her. Could this be too much? I should have asked for permission before moving her things.
We head to the elevator, and I press “PH.”
“PH? We’re going to the penthouse?” she squeals.
Relief surges through me. She doesn’t seem upset; she seems eager and excited. She’s practically hopping. I waggle my eyebrows, and as the doors open with a ding, I put my hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the corridor and to the room.
She steps inside, slipping off her shoes. Her toes wiggle slightly before she starts laughing.
“Austin, this is bigger than my house.”
Her hand runs along the back of the couch before stepping around the front and flopping onto it.
“Food?”
“God, yes. I’m starving.”
“Such a drama queen.” I roll my eyes, but I love seeing her like this. So carefree. She seems so much younger like this; she’s acting like a twenty-four-year-old, not burdened with the responsibilities of caring for her young brother.
“Says the guy who literally pretended to get kidnapped so he could spend time with me.”
Her head pops up over the sofa, cautiously gauging my reaction, but as soon as I grin, she laughs.
“Shall we talk about this week?” I say, lifting her legs so I can sit on the couch with her legs draped over mine.
“I...I missed you. I know it’s an odd thing to say.”
“I’ve been right downstairs, baby.”
She nods. “I know. I saw you’ve been sleeping in the bed in the basement. I just thought you’ve changed your mind or something. I thought I’d ruined it.”
She looks so innocent like this, tucked into the sofa, holding a throw pillow against her chest like a shield.
“No, I wanted you to have space, to accept the new reality of me being around of my own volition. I wanted you to know that I wasn’t going anywhere, that you can trust me to keep to my word.”
“I do trust you.” “Olivia . . .”
“I do, I promise. I’m just scared. I’ve been on my own for so long.
I’ve been Danny’s guardian and doing everything by myself.
Even looking out for him. I mean, I kidnapped you.
What was I thinking? But I wonder if I’d had someone to confide in, maybe I could have just talked it through rather than doing something so drastic. ”
“I’m glad it worked out the way it did. It led us right here.”
And it’s the truth. She’s amazing, but she needs time to get used to this dynamic. Distance really does make the heart grow fonder. If I push her, she'll freak out and reactivate the taser. My balls shrivel at the thought.
I rub her foot, and she moans softly.
“So . . . can we go on another date?” she asks.
“Are you asking me out, Killer?” I tease.
“Yeah, I am.” Her lips curl up, and laughter lines crinkle around her eyes. She’s breathtakingly beautiful, even all squished up on the couch.
“Date two coming up. We’ll go out when we get back home.”
Home.
“Sure. Do you mind if I shower and you order food?”
“Of course. The room is over there.” I point over her head and let go of her foot.
“Oh my god. THIS ROOM!” she squeals at the top of her lungs. They may just be able to hear her down in the lobby.