Chapter 16
“You look fabulous in that dress,” Oliver said.
It was New Year’s Eve and we were heading to a party thrown by Wilmer Hermann, one of Oliver’s best friends, at his brownstone in Greenwich Village. I chose one of Rachel Vicaria’s originals. She and her husband were branching out into evening wear for both men and women.
My dress was a long slinky dark blue sequined gown with an open back, sweetheart neckline and short sleeves. I paired it with matching five inch heels and clutch. Earlier in the day, I went to have my hair styled in an elegant chignon and my nails polished. Oliver looked stunningly handsome in a black Vicaria tuxedo, white shirt and bowtie. His recently cut hair perfectly coiffed and combed back. I wasn’t averse to messing it up on the way to the party.
“Look who’s talking. You’re breathtaking. I’m glad you didn’t shave.”
“I take your requests seriously.”
He smiled and I loved how his eyes crinkled in the corners.
“You think Trouble will be all right with Finley and Sadie?”
We dropped the puppy off at their apartment a few hours before. I didn’t want to leave Trouble by himself for too long and we would be away for several hours. Since Sadie was pregnant, they decided to celebrate the holiday at home.
“He’ll be fine.”
Oliver ran his hand over my ass, gently squeezing it in his big hand. His pinkie finger was now in a splint. He went to the doctor the day after Christmas to get it checked. I hated the silver splint but I loved that it freed up his ring finger so he could wear his sapphire ring.
“Don’t get me started. Hands off,” I said pushing his hand from me.
He nuzzled my ear. “Let’s stay home.”
“No. I want to go out. This will be my first event with you.”
He nibbled my neck. “This isn’t an event. It’s a party.”
“Then my first party with you. Stop being a spoiled sport,” I demanded.
“I just want you to myself.”
“You have me to yourself most of the time. It’s me who has to share you with the world.”
He shook his head with a wry smile. “Not true. No one cares about me now that I’m off the most eligible bachelor list. Just ask Jordan Grayson. Ever since he got married, no one cares.”
I snorted, rolling my eyes. “That’s bullshit. I just read an article about him in The Wall Street Journal.”
“Okay, so he’s not totally off the radar,” he conceded, shrugging.
“And neither will you be. I bet if we attend an event, we’ll land in the paper,” I challenged, crossing my arms.
“Maybe. When we open the new complex on the waterfront, I want you with me,” he said, his tone softening as he looked at me.
“It’s almost finished, right?”
“Yes, another few weeks. We have over seventy percent occupancy already. I’m hoping to have at least ninety by the time we open.”
“I didn’t realize you were already taking on tenants,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s how the real estate business works. You can’t wait until you’re open when you still have expenses attached to the property,” he explained, adjusting his cufflinks.
“Are we ready to go?” I asked, stepping closer to fix his slightly crooked bowtie.
He caught my hands and kissed each one tenderly, his fingers lingering over my engagement ring. “I’m going to have to keep you close tonight.”
I frowned, puzzled. “Why?”
“There will be plenty of drink. People get grabby when they’re inebriated,” he replied, his eyes darkening.
“And you don’t want anyone’s hands on me?”
“Of course not. You’re mine. No one should touch you but me,” he said possessively.
“Possessive asshole,” I muttered, slipping on my shoes with a smirk.
Oliver grinned, unfazed by my comment. He enjoyed it when I called him possessive because it was true. Shaking my head, I grabbed my clutch and walked out of the bedroom.
He followed closely, helping me into my long black wool coat. He texted Vlad, and a few minutes later, we were downstairs in the limo on our way to Wilmer’s. As Vlad pulled into traffic, Oliver reached over and stroked my cheek with his knuckles.
“Last chance to stay home,” he murmured, his voice low and inviting.
“No way. I didn’t get my hair and nails done just to sit at home all evening,” I replied firmly.
“Things you didn’t need. I like your hair down and your nails were fine,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
“Says the man who gets his nails manicured every week. They were not fine. I needed it done. My cuticles were a mess,” I countered, laughing.
“You’re getting used to my lifestyle,” he observed, a hint of pride in his voice.
“But I’ll never forget my modest upbringing,” I reminded him gently.
“I had a modest upbringing too,” he said, his tone turning serious.
“Your family was better off than mine. Anders makes a great salary, but not as much as my father,” I pointed out.
“Well, you upgraded,” he teased, leaning in to kiss my lips.
I pulled back, making him scowl. “What the hell was that?”
“I just did my gloss,” I said with a playful grin.
“Shut up, Ryleigh,” he growled, his hand circling the back of my neck as he gently pulled me to his mouth.
His tongue teased mine, and after two minutes, I was rethinking the party. My core started to flood, and I was sure my nude La Perla lace panties were sodden. He broke away, leaving me breathless. I reached up to wipe the gloss from his sexy lips, feeling my heart race.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice husky.
“Let’s go,” I whispered, still tingling from his kiss. “You really know how to get a girl going.”
“If we had more time, you would be naked right now.”
I shivered at the thought of Oliver taking me here in the limo. It wouldn’t be the first time, but it was exciting to have sex with the only thing separating us from Vlad and the world was a thin piece of glass. No one knew what was going on in our little compartment.
“No. We have plenty of time for that.”
Oliver grumbled and moved a few inches away while I retrieved a mirror and lip gloss from my clutch. He fiddled with his phone, checking a few emails and when I was finished, I grabbed for his hand.
“I hope you’ll enjoy tonight,” he said.
“I’m excited.”
The truth was, I was a big ball of anxiety. I hadn’t met many of Oliver’s friends except for Wilmer, Dax, and Ivan. They were kind and accepting, but I was sure there would be fewer of their type and more of Lara Harvin’s type at this party. I wasn’t stupid—I could read what was said on social media. Women could be petty and catty. I was sure I would encounter more of what I got from Lara.
“They’ll love you. What’s not to love?” Oliver reassured, sensing my unease.
We arrived twenty minutes later and took our place behind a line of sleek, black limos. This party was clearly drawing the city’s elite, which didn’t surprise me. Wilmer was quite wealthy—not as much as Oliver, but he did well for himself and had a trust fund besides. I couldn’t help but wonder why he hosted the party at his home rather than a high-end venue.
A male attendant in a black uniform and white gloves opened the door and offered his hand to help me out of the car. Oliver quickly followed, thanking the attendant and taking my hand.
We ascended a set of stairs, where another attendant opened the double front doors, welcoming us into a grand foyer illuminated by a huge crystal chandelier. Our coats were taken, and we were given tickets in exchange.
The brownstone was elegantly decorated with walls adorned with art that, to my untrained eye, looked authentic. Jazz music filled the air, and Oliver tucked my arm under his, leading me further inside. Waitstaff dressed in black circulated with silver trays of appetizers and champagne.
The floors were made of dark, rich wood, and above us were ivory-colored pressed tin ceilings. A curving staircase with iron railings led to the second floor, which Oliver had mentioned housed eight bedrooms. But we weren’t going upstairs. The open floor plan was crowded with partygoers dressed in fashionable dresses and tuxedos.
Oliver grabbed two flutes of champagne off a passing tray and handed me one. I drank half the glass in one gulp.
“Sweetheart, calm down,” he murmured, his voice soothing.
“These are your friends,” I said, feeling the nerves creep in.
He leaned into my ear, his breath warm. “Do I have to take you upstairs?”
My face reddened at the thought of Oliver and I sneaking away for a tryst while the party continued below. “God no. That would be embarrassing.”
“We’ll see,” he said with a mischievous grin, taking a sip of his champagne. It was clear he was considering using one of those eight bedrooms before the night was over.
“No,” I said firmly, though my resolve wavered under his playful gaze.
Our conversation was interrupted when Dax approached with his date. He was dressed in a white tuxedo with black lapels, and his date, a redhead with what I suspected were fake breasts, wore a skimpy black gown that showed off the top of her ass.
"Hey, you two."
Dax leaned in to kiss my cheek, then backed away to shake Oliver's hand. He introduced us to his date, Candy. I could have guessed her name. We exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes before Dax put his arm around her waist and pulled her away to meet some other friends. The last time I saw them, his hand was sliding down her back.
"That's quite a dress," I remarked, raising an eyebrow.
Oliver leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "It makes her look cheap, but Dax likes them easy. It wouldn't surprise me if he disappears upstairs with her."
We circulated the party, and as Oliver introduced me to some of his friends, my nerves began to ease. I even felt comfortable enough to nibble on some of the appetizers being circulated.
An hour later, we were sitting on a moss green velvet sofa talking with Ivan and his date, a former model. She was stunning with long, flowing honey-colored hair, statuesque and down-to-earth. We shared a conversation about the Vicarias since she had modeled for them before.
As midnight approached, I was feeling tipsy from the several glasses of champagne I had drunk. I also had to use the restroom. I interrupted Oliver’s conversation with a business associate to ask where it was.
“Do you want me to go with you?” he offered, his concern evident.
“I can manage. Just point me in the right direction.”
Once I had an idea where I was going, I headed there, only to run into the one person I didn’t wish to see—Lara. She was elegantly dressed in a short gold sequined dress, much like mine. She narrowed her eyes as I approached.
“Well, Oliver’s little fiancée. I didn’t think you would be here,” she sneered.
I stood up straighter and looked her right in her green eyes. “Why not?”
“Oliver told me you’re a homebody. It seems you’ve turned him into one too. Boring.”
"Excuse me?" I snapped, my voice sharper than intended.
"Boring. He used to be a party boy, but you’ve changed him for the worse," Lara repeated, a smug smile playing on her lips.
"Why would he need to go out when he has me?" I shot back, trying to keep my voice steady.
"I’m sure you’re not as exciting as he needs. You’ll see. Eventually, he’ll tire of you. I don’t give your marriage long," she taunted, her eyes gleaming with malice.
My blood began to boil, and I felt a fierce urge to scratch her eyes out. "Your jealousy is showing. You had your chance, but he didn’t want you."
"We had something together. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you, but then again, Oliver likes his secrets. You’ll find out." She walked away, cackling, leaving my stomach churning with unease.
Oliver was always honest with me, and I was sure what she said was just to get a rise out of me. But the seeds of doubt had been planted. I found the bathroom and slipped inside, telling myself Lara didn’t get to me. My eyes stung, and I forced back the tears. She was a jealous bitch, but her words gnawed at me.
I took a few moments to compose myself, dabbing at my eyes and freshening up my makeup before stepping back out. Oliver was waiting for me, leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his concern evident.
"I’m fine. Why would you think different?" I forced a smile, hoping it looked genuine.
"You took a few minutes. I got worried." He put his hand on my bare back, stroking the skin with his thumb. The touch seared into my flesh, not because he was hot, but because I loved when he touched me.
As we walked by the stairs, I paused. "What’s the matter?" he asked, his eyes searching mine.
"Can you take me on a tour?" I asked, needing a distraction.
"I don’t see why not." He led me up the stairs, the plush cream-colored carpet soft under my feet. I felt an urge to take my shoes off and feel it more intimately. Oliver steered me down a wide hallway with several doors, our steps echoing on the dark hardwood.
He showed me each of the bedrooms behind solid light wood doors. They all had the same elegant tin ceilings as the first floor. When we came to the last room at the end of the hall, Oliver gave me a gentle push and closed the door behind us. He took my clutch out of my hand and placed it on the cherry wood dresser.
"What are you doing?" I asked, breathless.
Oliver didn't respond. Instead, he bent down and kissed my exposed décolletage, his lips warm and insistent. I ran my hands through his hair, feeling the soft strands between my fingers. His tongue traced my cleavage, sending shivers down my spine.
"Oliver...." I whispered, my voice a mix of desire and hesitation.
"Shh. I can't resist," he murmured against my skin.
"It's almost midnight."
"Do you care?" he asked, his eyes dark with need.
I didn't care. I just wanted him, and if we made love through the turn of the year, so be it. He reached back to unzip my dress, and it slipped off my shoulders, pooling at my feet. I stepped out of it, and Oliver picked it up, draping it over the back of a dark blue wingback chair. I clawed at his jacket, and he shrugged out of it, placing it over my dress.
I stood there in nothing but my nude panties, and he latched onto my nipple with his lips, suckling it into his mouth. I moaned softly, hoping no one was upstairs to hear me.
"Where shall I fuck you? The dresser would be nice."
"Why not the bed?" I suggested, my voice trembling with anticipation.
I stroked him through his pants, and he gritted his teeth, gently biting my other nipple and tugging. The sensation sent shockwaves to my soaking core. He lifted me onto the dresser, causing a floral vase and a small crystal box to rattle. Oliver knelt down and removed my heels, caressing my calves before bending my knees and balancing my heels on the dresser’s edge.
I almost expected him to tear my expensive panties, but instead, he wrenched the crotch aside and thrust his tongue into me. I had to hold on because he was making me weak, and as my orgasm came hurtling forward, I fell apart, shattering under his skillful mouth.
"You’re so wet and delicious. We should’ve stayed home," he growled.
"This is more fun and dangerous," I muttered.
"No one will bother us here."
"How do you know that?"
"I just do." Oliver stood up as I regained my composure, opening his pants to release his cock. He bent down to pick up my shoes, sliding them back on my feet before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a condom.
"I hate those. You know that," I protested.
"You can’t take a shower, and this bedroom doesn’t have a bathroom."
"Oh."
I watched as he unfurled the latex over his shaft, anticipation building inside me. He lifted me in his arms and carried me to the bed, laying me on my back. Oliver grabbed the waistband of my panties and pulled them down my legs. I lifted my hips, somehow managing to remove them without taking off my shoes.
He placed a soft kiss on my mouth, and my body heated to the point of bursting into flame. Oliver teased me with the head of his cock, lubricating it with my juices before sliding inside me.
I gasped, wrapping my legs around his waist as he filled me completely. His movements were slow and deliberate at first, building the tension between us. I arched my back, pressing my breasts against his chest, my nails digging into his shoulders.
"Oliver," I moaned, my voice a plea.
"Yes, love?" he whispered, his breath hot against my ear.
"Don't stop," I begged, my body trembling with need.
He increased his pace, thrusting deeper, harder. Each movement pushed me closer to the edge. The room around us faded, leaving only the two of us in a world of our own creation. His hands roamed my body, exploring every inch, igniting every nerve ending. I could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within me until it finally snapped
“Fuck, you always feel so good. Wrap your legs around me.”
I hooked my ankles at the small of his back and he started to thrust, getting into a steady rhythm. He ground the root of his penis against my sensitive clit with each stroke, pushing me closer to another orgasm each time.
“I love you, Ryleigh. I love you so much. There’s never been anyone else for me but you.”
I was involved in our act of love but movement by the now slightly opened door caught my eye. I looked and saw Lara watching us, her face was stoic, and I smiled just before I closed my eyes as I came. When I looked again, she was gone and the door was once again closed.
After my release, Oliver moved me onto my knees and pounded me until he came with a loud grunt. He gently moved for a couple of minutes until he grew semi hard and pulled out, joining me on the bed where I collapsed. He stroked my hair as we heard horns blowing and people cheering. I checked his watch to see it was a few seconds after midnight.
“Happy New Year,” I said.
“Happy New Year,” Oliver echoed before he placed a firm kiss on my lips.
We went downstairs fifteen minutes later, rejoining the party in full swing. Oliver kept his arm around me as we floated from one group to another. Everyone was polite, and many engaged me in conversation. I was in a great mood, my body full of champagne and endorphins. Nothing could ruin my high, or so I thought, until I once again encountered Lara on my way to the bathroom.
There were few people in the hallway since Wilmer had the caterers put out trays of hot food.
“That’s the only way you might keep him,” Lara's voice cut through the air, dripping with disdain.
I whirled around, my hand poised on the door handle. “Excuse me?”
“To fuck him. Oliver likes sex, and as long as you give it to him, he’ll keep sniffing around. Once you cut him off, it’s over.”
“What the hell do you know about our relationship?”
She smirked. “I’ve known Oliver for years. He’s like a dog in heat. You should think about what will happen when you get pregnant. He’ll lose interest. I know.”
My stomach started to churn. “How do you know?”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
I crossed my arms. “Why don’t you tell me yourself?”
“I’m not helping you,” she sneered, turning on her heel and walking away.
I watched her round the corner and sagged against the door. I no longer wanted to spend any more time here. Forgetting the bathroom, I went to find Oliver. When I did, he was engaged in a conversation with Ivan and another man with a shaved head and long platinum-dyed goatee.
“I’d like to go home. I’m tired,” I said, my voice trembling.
“Sure. Give me a few minutes,” he replied, concern flashing in his eyes.
“Now, Oliver.” I turned before he could answer and walked toward the foyer where our coats were. Oliver followed and gently grabbed my elbow.
“What happened in the last fifteen minutes?”
“I don’t want to discuss this here,” I hissed, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Ryleigh, talk to me.”
I looked around for a room to duck into, noticing a pair of French doors. I grabbed Oliver’s hand and pulled him inside. I felt around for a light switch and found one near the door. The room was furnished with dark leather couches and walls of bookcases, some of them empty.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice low and urgent.
“Lara.”
He gritted his teeth. “What did that vapid bitch say to you?”
“She said as long as we kept having sex, you would stay interested in me. And that once I got pregnant, it was over. Why would she say that?”
Oliver’s face tightened, and he began chewing on the corner of his lip. “I have no idea,” he said, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, perhaps.
“Oliver,” I pressed, stepping closer. “Is there any truth to it?”
“No, of course not. You know how careful I am.”
“Then why?”
“I have no idea why she would say that. She’s trying to get under your skin and it’s working.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes. It was the start of a new year, and I was already fucking up. But Lara had me curious. What did she know about my soon to be husband that I did not?
“I’m sorry. Can we just go home?”
“Yes. I’d like to spend some time alone with you.”
Oliver led me to get our coats, handing the attendant the ticket he was given at the beginning of the night.
“Aren’t you saying goodbye to your friends?”
“It’s not necessary. Wilmer is surrounded by a few ladies and I’m sure he won’t miss us.”
Vlad came to pick us up a few minutes later which made me wonder where he was. It seemed that he never had time off.