Chapter 17
Oliver
"What the fuck do you mean he disappeared?" I barked into the phone, frustration simmering beneath the surface.
"He just did. He’s not on St. Croix and we haven’t heard from him," Vlad's voice crackled through the speaker.
I paced my office, tension coiling in my muscles as I listened to the update. Two of Vlad's security agents were supposed to be keeping a close eye on Jonah after his bar brawl incident. I thought we had nipped his reckless behavior in the bud, but clearly, I was wrong.
This time, Jonah had gone further, stealing thousands in cash from his fellow workers before vanishing into the night on a supply boat bound for St. Croix. Security had searched, but he was nowhere to be found.
"Dammit! I don’t need this shit right now," I muttered to myself, feeling the weight of impending deadlines and my looming wedding press in on me. "Have you checked the airlines?" I demanded.
"Jonah doesn’t have ID. Charles took his wallet when he arrived on Fox Island," Vlad replied.
"Then he found some other transportation. Keep looking, and I want a report in the next twenty-four hours," I ordered before abruptly ending the call.
Anxiety clawed at my stomach, a sensation I hadn’t felt in years. Ryleigh was usually the one calming me down, not the other way around. With Jonah missing, Caruso would undoubtedly exploit the situation to get to her.
Tyler Barnes was another headache I didn't need. His relentless pursuit of Ryleigh's father's murderer was putting her in danger, and I couldn't let that happen. I escorted her to view a grainy video Tyler had enhanced, watching her break down as she failed to recognize the man.
I recognized him, though, despite the poor quality. Raphael Caruso, Antonio's younger brother, a ruthless thug I'd encountered years before. I'd saved Jonah from him once, but it had come at a cost.
The Carusos were a threat that couldn't be underestimated. Raphael's disappearance had lulled us into a false sense of security, but now he was back, and I had to protect Ryleigh at all costs.
There were signs of a leak within Tyler's department, a dirty cop in Caruso's pocket. If Tyler connected the dots, it could mean trouble. But for now, I had to focus on the immediate threat.
Antonio Caruso's empire loomed large, built on a foundation of crime and corruption. He was watching Ryleigh, but he didn't realize that I was the real threat. I could piece together the puzzle, and once we returned from our honeymoon, I would have a plan to end this once and for all.
Ryleigh
"More?" I asked, as he handed me a piece of paper with a few additional names scrawled on it.
"Our reception is ballooning to almost five hundred people. I need to put my foot down with you," I sighed, exasperation evident in my voice.
Oliver had been sneakily adding names to the guest list since we ordered the invitations a month ago. He probably thought I didn’t notice that he'd ordered seven hundred instead of the four hundred we initially agreed upon. The Garden Room could barely accommodate five hundred fifty guests, and at Oliver's rate, we'd hit capacity fast.
"They're business associates. I don’t want to say no," he reasoned, his tone pleading.
"Do you want me to say no?" I shot back, feeling the tension rising.
"I could just see that," he teased, throwing his hands up in the air.
"You're making me crazy. I'm so stressed," I confessed, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on me.
Oliver leaned back in his office chair. "I can help with that," he suggested with a suggestive smile.
"Yeah, you can. Stop adding to the list," I retorted, shutting down his advances.
"I mean in other ways. It's after hours and we're all alone," he persisted, his voice dropping to a low murmur.
"No. I'm not in the mood," I replied firmly, trying to push away the frustration and fatigue that clouded my mind.
I missed him terribly during his frequent trips over the past few weeks. Our sex life had taken a hit, and I longed for the intimacy we once shared on a nightly basis. Now, it has been reduced to just a few times a week.
"Ryleigh, tomorrow is the last trip. I just need to seal the deal," Oliver reassured me, his voice tinged with desperation.
"I hope so, or I'm calling off the wedding," I threatened, half-serious and half-teasing, knowing it would hit him hard.
With Oliver away so often, my stress levels had skyrocketed, and my nightmares had returned with a vengeance. The video Tyler had shown me of my father's killer had reignited painful memories, haunting me in my sleep. And with Oliver's absence, I found solace in the company of our pet Trouble, his warmth a comfort in the lonely nights.
Sadie was just about ready to pop and I hadn’t been able to spend time with her as much as I would like. She was pretty much in the same boat as me since Finley was now twice as busy. Once it got out that Oliver had an interest in Stewart Applications, the company was flooded with orders. Finley was working fifteen-hour days and Sadie was not happy about it.
"You're not calling off shit. I swear, if you do, I’ll kidnap you and take you to the justice of the peace," Oliver growled, his voice dripping with determination.
"Where the hell is there a justice of the peace? Plus, how would you get me to sign for the marriage license?" I countered, trying to hide the smirk playing on my lips.
He flashed a confident smile, his white teeth gleaming. "You forget, I’m Oliver Fox."
"Arrogant fuck," I muttered, unable to suppress a grin of my own.
"You bet your sweet ass. Now finish what you were doing when I called you in here and let me spend the rest of the night asking for forgiveness," he demanded, his tone softening slightly.
"That will take more than one night," I teased, knowing full well his persuasive abilities.
"I bet I can make you change your mind. What are you working on anyway?" he asked, shifting the conversation.
"I was reviewing budget analysis that Mark provided me. He made some suggestions for the Miami project," I explained, gesturing toward the papers scattered on the desk.
"I’d like to see them," Oliver replied, his interest piqued.
"I’m making a spreadsheet," I said, turning back to the task at hand.
"You’ve become quite the little protégé of mine," he remarked, pride evident in his voice.
"Give me a few more months and I’ll surpass you," I retorted, feeling a surge of confidence.
Oliver snorted. "You think so?"
"My brain is younger than yours. I can absorb more," I quipped, enjoying the banter.
"But I’ve had fifteen years of practice and you’ve had only a year," he pointed out.
"With teachings by a master," I added, unable to resist a playful jab.
"In bed too," he mumbled suggestively.
"Pardon?" I feigned innocence, knowing exactly what he meant.
"Go finish up," he said, brushing off the comment.
I rose from the chair, purposely dropping a pen on the floor as I bent to pick it up, giving Oliver a tantalizing view. "Miss Stewart, you don’t need to entice me with your beautiful derriere. I’ve already offered to relieve your stress," he remarked, unable to resist the temptation.
"I have no idea what you’re talking about," I replied coyly, heading toward the door.
In a flash, Oliver was around his desk, embracing me from behind. His hands cupped my breasts through my blouse, sending shivers down my spine. I couldn’t deny the desire coursing through me, the anticipation building with every touch.
"Stop it. I have to finish up," I protested weakly, trying to resist the urge pulling me towards him.
He ignored my plea, his hand creeping up my skirt, his touch sending shivers down my spine. "Jesus Christ, Oliver, the door is open," I hissed, my heart pounding in my chest.
"No one is here. I bet I can fuck you and no one would see us," he whispered, his voice thick with desire.
I strained to listen, hearing the distant hum of the vacuum approaching from the other side of the office. "The cleaning crew is here," I reminded him, trying to inject some reason into the heated moment.
"Then we better hurry up before they get here," he countered, his erection pressing insistently against me, igniting a fierce craving deep within.
I resisted his advances, knowing we couldn't risk being caught in the act. "No," I breathed, trying to steady my racing pulse.
But his touch was relentless, slipping under the lace of my panties, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. I surrendered to the sensation, clinging to him as I succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure, my body trembling with release.
As I caught my breath, Oliver adjusted my skirt and kissed my neck tenderly. "Finish up and meet me here in three minutes," he instructed, his voice husky with desire.
"Is Vlad bringing the limo?" I asked, eager to escape the tension-filled office.
"He’s already downstairs," Oliver confirmed, a smirk playing on his lips.
I hurried back to my office, saving my work and shutting down my laptop with trembling hands. Rushing back to Oliver's office, I found him donning his suit jacket, his briefcase in hand.
"Can we go now?" I pleaded, my impatience palpable.
Oliver chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Let's go," he agreed, leading the way to the elevator.
The journey down to the lobby was agonizing, every second feeling like an eternity. Once inside the car, Oliver feigned disinterest, but I could feel the tension crackling between us.
"Oliver?" I whispered, unable to contain my frustration.
He turned to me, his gaze intense. "Yes?" he responded, his voice low and seductive.
"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" I demanded, the desire burning hot between us.
In a flash, he was across the seat and had me underneath him. He hovered above me, staring into my hazel eyes.
“Did you want something?”
I reached down between us to run my hand over his erection. I could feel how hot he was through his slacks.
"This," I demanded, my voice thick with need.
"Where would you like it?" Oliver teased, his eyes dark with desire.
"You know."
"Why don’t you tell me, then?" he prompted, enjoying the game.
I huffed, my frustration mounting. "Inside me. I want you to fuck me. I’ve wanted you to fuck me since you left for Tokyo."
He leaned back, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the adjacent bench seat. My fingers fumbled with his pants, releasing him from the confines. The sight of his erection nearly made me come right then and there. I missed the feeling of him inside me so much. I gently stroked him, but he pushed my hand away.
"If you do that, I’ll come all over you," he warned, his voice strained.
I giggled softly, "You have much more staying power than that."
"But I haven’t come since the morning I left you."
"You didn’t jerk off?" I asked, surprised.
"I didn’t want to jerk off. I wanted to make love. I told you, it’s all for you."
He pushed my skirt up and moved the crotch of my panties to the side, positioning himself over me. With a powerful thrust, he entered me, a loud groan escaping his lips. I gripped his ass, holding him still.
"Sweetheart, let me move."
"You feel so good. I want you to stay like this," I murmured, savoring the fullness.
I squeezed him, and he hissed, "Don’t, or this is over before it begins."
"Fuck me," I moaned, the desperation in my voice clear.
Oliver began to furiously pump, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through me. Even though I’d had an orgasm less than fifteen minutes ago, I was sensitive and ready to explode again. He slammed into me, and on the fifth stroke, I came with a loud howl, one that even Vlad might have heard behind the smoky glass divider. Oliver followed a few strokes later, grunting and biting my nipples through my blouse, the intensity of his release matching my own.
"Christ, I missed your pussy," Oliver breathed, his voice still thick with lust.
"Just my pussy?" I teased, raising an eyebrow.
Oliver grunted. "You know better."
"I want this again, but slower."
"You have my word," he promised.
Oliver pulled out of me and sat back, leaving me feeling boneless and exposed. He tucked himself back into his slacks and reached into his jacket for a handkerchief, using it to gently clean between my legs. He fixed my panties, righted my skirt, and helped me up.
"I'm tired," I admitted, leaning against him.
"You're tired? I'm the one that flew in from Japan," he reminded me with a soft chuckle.
"I didn’t sleep well last night."
Oliver looked at me with concern. "Why?"
I shrugged. "I just couldn't sleep."
"Sweetheart, are you having nightmares again?" he asked, his brow furrowing.
"A few. I slept with Trouble last night. For a little dog, he’s a bed hog."
Oliver frowned. "You know I don’t want him in bed with us. It spawns bad habits."
"Then stop going away," I retorted, my voice softer, almost pleading.
"Once more and I’m done for a while."
"What about next month? You have to fly to Fox Island to see everything is done properly."
"You’ll be with me," he said.
I groaned. "I’m not sure I can. I have so much to do for the wedding."
"It’s a few short days, maybe two or three. We can take a much-deserved mini vacation."
"We can discuss it in a few weeks."
He chuckled. "And you call me a workaholic."
I snorted. "You’re a bad influence."
Oliver nodded. "I guess I am."
"I don’t want phones or electronics on our honeymoon. I don’t want to share you. I’m not even sure I want to leave the island. We can explore. I’d love to swim in the lagoon," I stated.
I made the decision of no electronics when I chose our wedding date. Even when he was off or we were away for a holiday, Oliver worked. Maybe it was selfish, but I wanted him all to myself on our honeymoon without distractions.
"We’ll do all of that, but you might get sick of me."
I shook my head. "I doubt it. I missed you these past weeks."
"I’m here now," he said, his eyes softening.
As Vlad pulled up in front of our building and got out to open the door for me, I felt a wave of relief. I was glad to be home and even happier to have Oliver with me, at least for tonight.
I woke to the sound of the shower running. Oliver was already up, and it was nearing 6:30 a.m. I had hoped he would stay in bed with me a little longer since he was leaving for London this afternoon. I would be alone for another two days. Trouble heard me stir and jumped up from his dog bed near the closet.
"Come here, boy," I called softly.
Trouble trotted over, and I leaned over to pick him up. He was just under eighteen pounds now, a bit overweight because I spoiled him. Oliver would probably be annoyed to find him on the bed, but Trouble would be my sleeping companion for the next two evenings.
The dog settled next to me, and I put my head on the pillow, stroking his fur. He put his head on my stomach and closed his eyes. A few minutes later, the shower turned off, and Oliver emerged from the bathroom with a towel hanging low on his waist. I loved the cuts around his hips and the ridges in his abs.
"Ryleigh, I told you that’s not a good idea," he said, nodding toward Trouble on the bed.
"Then stay home," I replied, not missing a beat.
"This trip is the last one for a while. You can still come with me," he offered, running a hand through his damp hair.
"I have a project. We have a back order on marble for the lobby of Fox Towers."
"I thought that was straightened out?" Oliver asked, a crease forming between his brows.
Fox Towers was a project downtown by the waterfront, a mix of commercial space and high-end residences. Oliver had placed it in my hands, and despite my efforts, we were behind schedule by a couple of weeks.
"So did I. I located a supplier that had enough, and now they don’t."
"Who are they?"
"Salvaggio International," I said, sighing. "We have a good relationship and give them plenty of business."
"I feel they’re giving me a hard time on purpose. The rep I deal with is an asshole."
Oliver bent down to give me a kiss, and despite his protests, left Trouble on the bed. He then went to get his phone, pacing the floor while waiting for the call to connect. He disappeared into the closet, and I heard him talking. A few minutes later, he came out with a smile on his face.
"Problem solved," he announced, his eyes twinkling.
“I spoke to Benito Salvaggio.”
I sat up and Trouble jumped off the bed. “You make one phone call and fix it. I wanted to fix it. It’s my job.”
“Sweetheart, stop getting worked up.”
“If they had the tiles then they were jerking me around. Why?” I asked.
“Benito is checking on that.”
I had a feeling I knew exactly why the rep did it. Johnny Salvaggio, fucking punk, was giving me a hard time. I met with him two months ago to discuss flooring selections. He was one of those guys who didn’t like to get his hands dirty. He wore expensive Armani suits and got his nails polished with a clear coat.
We met at his office and several times as we discussed options, I saw him staring at my breasts. It made me uncomfortable, but I had a job to do. When we were finished, he asked me for drinks even though he knew I was engaged to Oliver. I declined and ever since then, he’d been giving me a hard time, even refusing to speak with the contractor.
“The rep wants to fuck me,” I said flatly, watching Oliver as he came out of the closet in a pair of gray boxers. His eyes narrowed immediately.
“Excuse me? How do you know that’s the reason?” His tone was sharp, protective.
“Because he said it in so many words.”
Oliver crossed his arms, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “So many words how, exactly?”
I sighed, recalling the uncomfortable meeting. “Oliver, the first time I met him, he was staring down my blouse. It made me feel dirty. At the end of our meeting, he asked me for drinks, and of course, I declined. Ever since then, he’s been giving me a hard time.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me this?” he demanded, frustration evident in his voice.
“Because I don’t need my fiancé fighting my battles. If I’m going to work in this field, I need to toughen up,” I replied, meeting his intense gaze.
“I’ll kill that motherfucker,” he muttered, fists clenched at his sides.
“Let it go. He’s Benito’s son, and we have to work with Salvaggio again.”
“That doesn’t mean he can sexually harass you.”
“I agree, but I won’t deal with them again. Next time, I’ll have Henri handle it.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice softening.
“It’s not your fault. You think this is the first time?”
“Why don’t you tell me these things?” he asked, genuine concern in his eyes.
“Because you’re busy with your own stuff. As long as they keep their hands to themselves, I can deal with them.”
“But you shouldn’t have to.”
“I agree, but this business is male-dominated, and if I want to play with the big boys, I need to take my licks.”
“Uh, the only male you’re taking licks from is me,” he said with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do, but next time, tell me. This set us back a few days.”
“Yes, it did, but we can make it up. We’re not that far behind,” I assured him, pushing the covers off me to reveal my naked body. Oliver’s eyes traveled over me, desire replacing his earlier anger.
“I’m going to miss you,” I said, my voice filled with the familiar ache of impending separation.
“You know the answer to that,” Oliver replied, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Yes, I do. This is it for a while, except for the inspection of Fox Island.”
“We won’t be apart for that trip. I’m going with you,” he assured me.
“A few more weeks. The furniture is coming next week, and the finishing touches are being put on the property.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” I said excitedly.
“You can come to the inspection with me,” he offered.
“No. I want to be surprised on our honeymoon.”
“You will be,” he promised, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
I stood up and stretched, heading towards the bathroom. With Oliver gone tonight, I planned to work out with Brad. Over the past few months, Brad had helped me get into incredible shape. My torso was now muscular, and my legs and arms were tight and defined. Oliver loved the transformation.
After a long, hot shower, I found my fiancé in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading The Wall Street Journal. He looked striking in a black suit, pink shirt, and dark pink tie. I loved how he could pull off feminine colors with such confidence.
“Are you coming to the office with me?” I asked.
“Of course. My flight isn’t until 4 p.m.”
“And when will you be back?”
“Friday afternoon.”
“I’m working out with Brad this evening. I skipped yesterday,” I mentioned, hoping to deter him from trying to distract me.
“Come here,” he said, beckoning me over.
I padded over to him, and he turned in his seat, pulling me between his spread legs. His hand slid inside my pink robe, fondling my breast.
“Don’t,” I said, pulling away gently.
“Why not?”
“Because you know where it will lead.”
“You won’t have me for two days—this is your last chance,” he teased.
“I’ll survive. I have for the past few weeks,” I replied, backing away to make myself a latte.
Oliver continued reading the paper until I turned toward him with my mug in hand.
“Are you upset with me?” he asked, sensing my mood.
“A little,” I admitted.
“This is business, sweetheart. I wouldn’t leave you otherwise.”
“That makes it sound like I take a backseat to your business.”
“You don’t. You’re first and foremost. If you want me to sell everything, I will. We can live like nomads for the rest of our lives.”
“That makes no sense. It would be like cutting off your arm.”
“No, losing you would be like cutting off my arm and taking my heart out. I can live without my business; I can’t live without you.”
I put down my mug and stared at him, emotions swirling. “Why do you always say shit like that?”
“Because it’s true. You mean everything to me.”
“I understand. I miss you when you’re gone.”
“You can still come with me. The situation with the flooring is taken care of.”
“But I have other things to deal with.”
“Suit yourself. It was just a suggestion.”
“I need to get dressed,” I said, taking my latte and heading down the hall to the bedroom.
Standing in front of my closet, I debated what to wear. It was supposed to be warm today but also rain. The clouds were already starting to gather, turning the day gray. I chose a navy-blue skirt and a sleeveless blouse in light blue. I could always wear a light raincoat if I needed to. The walk from the limo to our office would only take half a minute.
Oliver came into the closet while I was looking for a matching bra and panty set.
“What are you planning to do while I’m gone?” he asked, curiosity and a hint of jealousy in his tone.
“Hang out with my girlfriends, go drinking, and maybe hit a dance club. Why?” I replied nonchalantly.
“You’re not serious, are you?” I asked, holding up a powder blue bra and panty set as I stood up.
Oliver's eyes twinkled mischievously. “Of course I’m not serious. When was the last time I went to a dance club?”
His smile turned wicked, and I could tell he was thinking about the time we had hot, frantic sex in his club, Show Me Yours. We had slipped into the hidden room while the music pounded around us.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I said, rolling my eyes but unable to suppress a grin.
“Maybe we should go back,” he suggested, a devilish glint in his eye.
“Why?” I asked, slipping into my bra.
“I like what we did there,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
“We can do the same here. We don’t need a club to have hot sex,” I pointed out, slipping on my panties.
“But it was different and almost voyeuristic. Don’t you agree?” he asked, leaning back against the doorframe.
A shiver ran down my spine at the memory. “It wasn’t really voyeuristic until you told me that the wall behind the curtains was two-way glass.”
“Next time, I should open the curtains and fuck you while we look out onto the dance floor,” he teased.
I slipped into my skirt and blouse, trying to ignore the heat spreading through me at his words. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable.”
“Why? No one would see us,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I still wouldn’t feel right,” I said firmly.
“We’ll see,” he murmured, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Uh huh,” I replied, buttoning up my blouse.
Rain started to pelt against the patio window, and I glanced outside. “Shit, I thought we could beat it.”
“It’s no big deal. I have that golf umbrella,” Oliver said, unfazed.
“I hate rain,” I muttered, already dreading the short walk from the limo to the office.
“We might get some on our honeymoon,” he pointed out.
“I hope just a little. I plan to bake until my skin is golden,” I said, daydreaming about the sun-soaked beaches of Fox Island.
“That’s if I let you out of the bedroom,” he said, his eyes darkening with desire.
“Maybe for the first couple of days,” I teased, enjoying the way his gaze traveled over me.
“Or the entire honeymoon,” he countered, pulling me into a kiss that left me breathless.
I rolled my eyes as I brushed past Oliver. He gave my ass a small smack, making me gasp. It was humid, so I decided to put my mahogany hair into a ponytail. As I did, Oliver came over and kissed the back of my neck, showering it with soft kisses.
“Knock it off, Fox. I’m dressed,” I said, trying to sound stern.
“And you can get redressed,” he murmured against my skin.
“No, I’ll stay dressed. You’ll just have to wait until you get home on Friday night,” I replied, smirking.
“I should’ve made love to you all night,” he lamented, his voice a low rumble.
“After the first time, you fell asleep. How much sleep did you get on the plane coming home?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
“I didn’t,” he admitted, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.
“No wonder you were so exhausted,” I said, shaking my head.
I turned to face him, pressing a kiss to his mouth. He gently tugged my ponytail, licking my lips before moving down to kiss my throat. I felt a shiver of desire but held firm.
“I’m not tired now,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin.
“Friday,” I insisted, pushing him away gently.
He stood up straight, locking eyes with me. “You’re seriously making me wait?”
“Yes. It’s punishment for leaving me so much,” I said, trying to sound resolute.
He chuckled, his eyes darkening with amusement. “You’re also punishing yourself.”
“I can get myself off or use my vibrator,” I retorted defiantly.
“No, you can’t,” he said, a wicked smile spreading across his face.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“I hid your vibrator. Nothing other than your fingers and me is getting you off. I much prefer you don’t get off at all while I’m gone,” he said smugly.
“If you want to suffer and not jerk off, fine. But if I want to get off, I will,” I shot back.
“Suit yourself, but you know it can’t compare to what I can do,” he said, his confidence infuriating.
“You really are full of yourself,” I muttered.
“I’d rather be full of you,” he replied, his voice low and teasing.
“Don’t you have something to do?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“No. I’ve answered all my emails, and I’m waiting on you so we can leave,” he said, settling into a chair.
“Watch the news,” I suggested.
Trouble came bounding in from his bed by the terrace doors. Oliver scooped him up, placing him on his lap. He wasn’t fooling me; I knew he loved the little dog as much as I did.
“You should get him in his carrier,” I reminded him.
“In a few minutes,” he said, cooing and petting Trouble.
I watched Oliver in the mirror as I put on my makeup. Since we got Trouble, we’d been dropping him off at Good Doggy, a dog playground where he could spend the day playing with other dogs.
“Matthew said he would take Trouble while we’re away,” I mentioned.
“I thought your parents were taking him?” Oliver asked, slightly confused.
“Trouble loves Blackie, and they get along so well. Matthew’s dog walker can take them both out,” I explained.
“I guess,” he said, still feeling a bit uneasy.
“Are you worried?” I asked, sensing my hesitation.
“Blackie is bigger than Trouble. Suppose they get into a fight?” he said, voicing his concern.
“They don’t fight. Have you ever seen them?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No. But…” he trailed off, still unsure.
“Stop worrying. He’ll be fine,” I reassured him.
As time drew closer to Oliver's departure for the airport, my mood grew darker and more irritable. The thought of sleeping in bed without him gnawed at me, a constant, unwelcome reminder of his absence. I regretted not deciding to go with him.
Just thirty minutes before he had to leave, Oliver sauntered into my office. His movements were smooth and deliberate, like a panther on the prowl.
“Sweetheart?” he called out, his voice a soft rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.
I glanced up from my laptop, trying to keep my irritation in check. “What’s up?”
“I’m leaving soon. Did you eat lunch?” he asked.
“No. I completely forgot,” I admitted, my stomach twisting as I realized how the day had slipped away.
“You should eat,” he said, stepping closer. “Everything alright?”
“No, it’s not. I noticed you added more to the guest list. Please stop doing that.”
He sighed, a look of mild exasperation crossing his face. “I’m sorry. Peyton Branford and his wife will be visiting New York the week of our wedding.”
“Who the hell is Peyton Branford?” I demanded, frustration bubbling over.
“The man I’m meeting with tomorrow,” he explained patiently. “He’s a business associate and has been for many years. I attended his wedding.”
“At this rate, we’ll be at full capacity,” I muttered, feeling the weight of the guest list pressing down on me.
“Is it a big deal?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.
“No, but you have to stop this. Two more weeks and we give the caterer the head count. You can’t add any more people to the list.”
“I promise, this is it,” he said earnestly.
“I bet,” I retorted, not entirely convinced.
“I have to leave. Can I have a kiss?” he asked, a teasing smile playing at his lips.
“Do I have a choice?” I shot back, my annoyance still simmering.
“If you want to leave poor Oliver with empty lips, you do,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes intense.
“Poor and Oliver do not go together,” I said, unable to resist a smile.
He came around the desk and bent down, his lips hovering over mine. I gave him a quick peck and looked back at my screen, trying to maintain some semblance of control.
“That is not an ‘I’ll be away for two days’ kiss,” he said, his voice a low growl.
“Then don’t go if you want better kisses,” I challenged.
“Come on, Ryleigh, don’t be difficult,” he pleaded, frustration and affection mingling in his eyes.
“It’s my signature,” I replied, tilting my head up defiantly.
He cupped my face between his hands and pressed a hard kiss to my lips, his tongue invading my mouth with a force that sent electricity shooting down to my core. My clit throbbed in response, and I knew if he kept it up, I would make him late for his flight.
Our heated moment was interrupted by a knock on the open door. Henri stood there, looking slightly uncomfortable.
“Excuse me, sir. Your car is ready,” Henri said politely.
Oliver pulled back, his eyes still locked on mine. “I’ll see you in two days.”
“Yeah, two days,” I echoed, trying to hide the longing in my voice.
As he walked away, a part of me wished I had asked him to stay.