Chapter 2
Since we went to bed relatively early, Oliver woke me at the crack of dawn. His voice was soft but insistent. "Time to work out."
"What time is it?" I mumbled into the pillow, still half-asleep.
"5:30 a.m.," he replied, sounding far too awake for such an ungodly hour.
"Wake me up in an hour," I groaned, trying to burrow deeper into the bed.
"Does that mean you're not working out this morning?" He sounded genuinely curious, and maybe a bit amused.
"I can see Brad after work," I mumbled, hoping he’d take the bait and let me sleep.
"No can do. I want to take you out to dinner after work."
That got my attention. "What's the occasion?" I asked, squinting at him through one open eye.
"Do I need an occasion to take my fiancée out to dinner?"
I grumbled, but the prospect of dinner with him was too appealing to resist. I pulled myself up and pushed the sheet off, accepting my fate.
A few minutes later, I was dressed in terry shorts and a matching sports bra. I tied my hair in a ponytail, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. When I came down the hall, Oliver was waiting for me in the kitchen.
"I see you fed Trouble. Did you let him out?" I asked, grabbing a bottle of water.
"Of course," he said with a smile. "Ready to go?"
I sighed dramatically. "Let's get this over with."
I trudged down the hall to the elevator. Oliver was ahead of me and waited to press the button. I leaned against the wall, eyeing his muscular arms, legs, and chest. He really was something else.
The building gym was empty when we arrived. Oliver headed straight for the stair climber while I took a treadmill near the windows. I started out slowly, but after seven minutes, I was running at full speed, the exhilaration coursing through me. Despite it having been a few days since my last workout, I felt amazing.
I’d avoided the hotel gym while we were in St. Croix, preferring to spend my time on the beach and exploring the town. I had bought a few trinkets for my family and friends at some of the small shops there, so it had been several days.
After twenty minutes on the treadmill, I slowed to a walk before getting off, dripping with sweat. I grabbed a towel to wipe my face, arms, and legs. While I waited for Oliver to finish his cardio, I did some weight training on my upper body.
If I wanted to maintain my sculpted muscles, I needed to keep a routine. I was just finishing a set when Oliver shut down the stepper, climbed off, and grabbed a towel.
"Ready to go?" he called, his voice echoing in the empty gym.
"Maybe," I said, placing the weights back on the rack.
"If you're not, I can wait."
"I'm finished. I think an hour is enough for the day."
He raised an eyebrow. "You work out almost two with Brad."
"Brad's a sadist," I retorted with a smirk.
Oliver laughed, the sound warm and comforting. "True. But he's effective."
As we made our way back to the elevator, I felt a surge of gratitude for Oliver's persistence. Despite the early hour, I knew that these moments together were what made our relationship strong. And the promise of dinner after work was just the cherry on top.
“But you have to admit he’s gotten you into tip top shape.”
“I can’t deny it but his methods are torturous.”
Oliver chuckled. I was soaked with sweat and my bra was stained dark with it. I couldn’t wait to get in the shower.
“What’s this?” Oliver waved a paper in front of me, his tone sharp and displeased.
I glanced up from my computer, startled by the sudden confrontation. “It looks like a bill from Kincaid Lighting.”
He dropped it on my desk, jabbing a finger at the total at the bottom of the invoice. “It looks like an over-budget bill. We didn’t discuss spending this much on lighting. Why do we need a chandelier in the lobby?”
“You gave me free rein on choosing fixtures,” I replied, trying to keep my voice calm.
“Free rein on design, not price. You went twenty percent over budget for lighting.”
“But I was almost seventeen percent under for flooring,” I countered, feeling my frustration rise.
He began pacing my office, teeth gritted, his agitation palpable. “How can I make you understand that when a budget is set, you have to stick to it?”
I frowned, the tension between us thickening. “You’re being a dick right now.”
“I’m running a business. I thought you were better than this,” he shot back, his eyes flashing with anger.
I pointed at him. “Fuck you, Oliver. This is a high-end residence. The chandelier looks beautiful. You haven’t even been to the property lately. I don’t remember getting any praise when I saved on flooring.”
His pacing slowed. “That’s not the point. It’s about communication and staying within our agreed limits.”
I stood up, facing him squarely. “And it’s about trusting my judgment. I made a decision that enhances the property’s value. If you can’t see that, maybe you should visit the site and see for yourself before jumping down my throat.” I held my hands up. “You know what, fuck it. You want to take over, it’s yours. I wash my hands of it. Asshole.”
Oliver glared at me as I grabbed my purse, smoothed my black pencil skirt, and brushed past him. My face was heated with anger. He reached out to grab my arm, but I wrenched it away and headed toward my closed office door. Before I could get it open, he was on me, pressing his body against mine.
"Leave me alone. I need to cool off," I snapped, trying to keep my voice steady.
"I'm sorry," he whispered in my ear, sending chills down my spine.
"Sorry for what? It seems I’m the one that fucked up," I retorted, my voice tinged with bitterness.
"You didn’t. You’re right. The building is high-end and needed something like the chandelier in the lobby," he admitted softly.
I sagged against him, the fight draining out of me. I hated arguing with Oliver, but he made it seem like I was incompetent. "I didn’t ask you because you were traveling. I didn’t think I had to. We have a contingency budget of ten percent that we haven’t touched. This building didn’t have any major issues."
"I know. You saved us money," he conceded.
"Then what’s your problem?" I demanded, turning to face him.
"Nothing," he muttered, moving away and plopping down on the sofa near my desk. He looked exhausted, and I recalled hearing him yelling at someone on the phone earlier in the day. I went to sit in my office chair, placing my purse on the desk.
"Oliver, what’s the matter? Did something happen?" I asked, my tone softening.
"Jonah. My security staff had eyes on him, and he disappeared. It seems he’s been on St. Thomas all this time. He was so close, and we were looking for him all over the place. He met some woman and he’s been living in her small apartment near the beach," Oliver explained, rubbing his temples.
"What’s he doing for money?" I asked, genuinely concerned.
"Bartending. He used to do that when he was younger," Oliver replied, a hint of a smile on his lips.
"So where did he go?" I pressed.
"Gone. They questioned the woman, and she said she hadn’t seen him. He took off," Oliver said, frustration creeping back into his voice.
"Why do you want him so bad?" I asked, leaning forward.
"Because he could still be in danger. Jonah is a fuck-up, but I still love him," Oliver admitted, his voice breaking slightly.
"If he needs money, he’ll surface again," I reassured him.
"I hope so, before the man looking for him finds him," Oliver said, his worry evident.
"Who is this man?" I asked, curiosity piqued.
I knew Oliver was keeping something from me.
"Jonah never said. It surprised me he didn’t find him after that fight with the kid at the bar," Oliver explained.
"Why would it? It didn’t make national news. It was a stupid bar fight," I said, shaking my head.
"With a policeman’s son. It was high profile enough," Oliver countered.
"Jonah is street smart. He isn’t going to be caught as easily as you think," I reassured him again.
"I hope not," Oliver said, a distant look in his eyes. "I’d like to see the Fox Tower residences," he said, changing the subject.
"We can go now if you like. They’re completing the lobby today. We have four more units to sell, and we’re at capacity," I replied, standing up.
"And we still have another few weeks before we’re ready to open. You did a great job. I’d like to take you to dinner for the fine job," Oliver said, smiling.
"It will have to be another time because my fiancé already asked me to dinner tonight," I replied, a playful glint in my eye.
Oliver chuckled, the tension between us finally dissipating. “Oh, did he? Lucky bastard.”
I giggled as we stood up at the same time. “Would you take lunch instead?”
“I guess so—I haven’t eaten, and I know you haven’t.”
“I had a protein bar earlier in the day,” I said.
He wrinkled his nose. “That’s not enough. Let’s get something delicious. How about French dip sandwiches from Oscar’s?”
My mouth started to water at the thought of Oscar’s, a small joint not far from the office that made the best French dip sandwiches. You could have your sandwich three ways: wet, medium, or dry. Wet meant they soaked the roll in the au jus; medium, they dunked the meat; and dry, they gave you a cup of au jus. The stuff was so damn good you could drink it from the container.
“I want it wet,” I said, already tasting the savory goodness.
“Mmm, just the way I like you,” Oliver murmured, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
I rolled my eyes. “We’re talking about lunch,” I reminded him, trying to keep the conversation on track.
“And I’m talking about you,” he replied, tightening his arms around my waist. I couldn’t help but smile as he held me. “I love you, Ryleigh. Forgive me?” he asked, his voice soft and sincere.
“It’s long forgotten. Can we go to lunch?” I asked, leaning into him.
“Absolutely,” he said, kissing my forehead gently. “Let’s get out of here.”
We grabbed our things and headed out, our earlier argument now a distant memory. As we walked to Oscar’s, hand in hand, I felt a sense of peace settle over me. Whatever challenges lay ahead, I knew we could face them together.
Oscar’s was as crowded as it usually was. Oliver grumbled that he had to stand in line and said he should’ve sent Henri to pick the sandwiches up.
“Stop whining,” I said as I played with his fingers.
“I’m not whining. I’m impatient.”
“No kidding.”
A woman in front of us turned and stared at Oliver. He could do that to women and frequently I’d caught women undressing him with their eyes. I scowled at her and she turned around as the white capped man at the counter gestured her forward.
“You have an admirer,” I whispered.
“I don’t care about anyone but you.”
We got to the counter and placed our order, Oliver asked for one wet and two dry with an extra side of au jus.
“Where are we eating?” I asked.
“Want to go back to the office?”
“I guess.”
I looked around and couldn’t see a free seat anywhere. It was the next best thing rather than waiting for a table to open.
“I have the perfect place we can eat.”
“Where?”
“Just follow me.”
He took the white bag he was handed by the clerk and grabbed my hand. We crossed the street, dodging a taxi that was barreling down the street to catch the light that changing to yellow. Oliver led me into Sadie’s building.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Shush. You always have to question me.”
We passed through security then stepped onto one of the elevators where two men in almost matching blue suits nodded at Oliver. They got off on the twenty third floor and we continued to the top of the building.
“Where are you taking me?”
Oliver remained silent as the elevator came to a stop on the fifty-sixth floor. The doors opened to reveal a serene, nearly empty hallway. At the end of it was a glass-enclosed atrium filled with lush greenery—ferns, yucca cane, Chinese evergreens, lace leaf, and peace lilies. Comfortable oversized couches and a few tables were scattered around, along with a small kitchenette equipped with a microwave, refrigerator, sink, and a coffee maker.
“Sadie never told me about this place,” I said, looking around in awe.
“She might not be aware. Very few people are,” Oliver replied, his tone casual.
“Just the ones that work in those offices down there,” I said, pointing to the closed doors.
“No one works in those offices.”
“That’s wasted space,” I commented, frowning.
“I know. I really should do something about it, shouldn’t I?” Oliver responded, a thoughtful look crossing his face.
“Shouldn’t you?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow.
Oliver pulled out one of the brown vinyl cushioned chairs for me, gesturing for me to sit. “Oliver?”
“It’s my building,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips.
“It is? I didn’t see it on your list of properties.”
“Did you see the one we work in on there?”
“No. I just assumed…”
He smirked. I still had so much to learn about his company. I don’t think I even scratched the surface of all the assets he owned. It wasn’t a surprise that he owned this building or the one we worked in.
“You assumed correctly. I own it and several others around the city,” he said nonchalantly.
“Like the building we live in?”
“Of course. How do you think I got the security tapes so quickly?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
“I don’t want to talk about that,” I muttered, feeling a pang of unease.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” he reassured me, his voice softening.
“Aren’t you worried about being up here without security?” I asked, glancing around nervously.
“Not at all. Security is tight in this building. No one passes through without a badge.”
“You did,” I pointed out.
“I own this building and they know it. I don’t need to show a badge.”
I shook my head with a smile. “We forgot drinks,” I said, realizing we hadn't brought anything to drink with our lunch.
“Not a problem. The refrigerator is fully stocked. What can I get you?” Oliver asked, already heading towards the kitchenette.
I thought for a moment. “Beer.”
“Bullshit. You don’t drink at work.”
“We’re not at work. We’re on lunch.”
“What do you want to drink?” he repeated, giving me a playful look.
I sighed. “Water is fine.”
“Sparkling?” Oliver asked.
“Yes. That’s good.”
Oliver reached into the refrigerator and took out two bottles of Pellegrino. I opened the white bag, inhaling the aroma of the contents before I sat down at one of the tables. He joined me.
“These smell wonderful,” I said, my mouth watering.
I handed Oliver his food and took mine, unrolling the tin foil. My roll was soft with the juices of the meat, and I savored the first bite, closing my eyes as I chewed. Oliver dunked his sandwich in the au jus several times before taking his first bite.
“Good?” he asked, watching me with a satisfied smile.
I nodded, unable to speak with my mouth full. The sandwich was everything I had hoped for and more.
“These just get better and better. I wonder if Oscar would give me the recipe,” he said, wiping au jus from his mouth.
“You think he would give up his family recipe? It’s what keeps everyone coming back.”
“You would think he would want to expand that place.”
I swallowed what I’d been chewing, grabbing a couple of napkins to wipe my hands. “He’s in a great location. Several large office buildings surrounding his store. I’m sure he does quite well. That place is always packed with people even after the lunch crowd is gone.”
Oliver thought for a moment. “Maybe I can make him an offer.”
I snorted. “Give it up, Oliver, he won’t hand over his recipe.”
“Everything has a price.”
“But not everyone can be bought.”
He pursed his lips. “I’m not sure how true that is.”
Oliver’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he put his sandwich down to check the email. He furiously typed a reply and put the cell on the table. All through lunch he answered back and forth.
“Can you stop that?” I asked with a frown.
“I’m sorry. This is a negotiation.”
He dipped his sandwich in au jus before taking a bite, licking his lips clean.
“Can’t it wait until we get back to the office?” I asked, frowning as I watched Oliver fiddle with his phone.
“It’s with London; they’re closing soon,” he replied, not looking up.
“They work for you—they never close,” I countered, rolling my eyes.
“They don’t work for me; they work with me. There’s a difference,” Oliver said, his tone firm.
Finally, he gave up and rose from his chair, walking away as he hit a contact on his phone. I put the remnants of my sandwich down and squinted at the sun coming through the slanted glass roof. In the corner, I noticed a door that led out to a wide patch of grass. I wiped my hands and headed over to the door, unlocking it and stepping outside.
It was so strange to be walking through thick grass in the middle of the city. Down below, I heard the sounds of Manhattan—cars, horns, street noises. I headed to the raised wall, looking over the edge at the pedestrians in the space between the two buildings.
“Do you like it?” Oliver's voice startled me, and I turned to see him coming toward me.
“It’s a living roof. How lovely, but who cares for the grass?” I asked, intrigued.
“I have it cut with a hand mower each week. It grows surprisingly fast,” he replied, a proud smile on his face.
“Is this your little secret? Do you come up here when I’m not looking? Is that why sometimes I can’t find you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Oliver chuckled, stepping closer. “Maybe. It’s a nice escape when things get too hectic.”
"Why haven’t you brought me here before?" I asked, glancing around the rooftop garden.
“I just had it renovated. The glass before was in terrible condition and leaked on rainy days. I recently had it repaired. Wouldn’t this be a nice place to have offices?” Oliver explained, gesturing to the lush atrium and the expansive living roof.
“You want to leave where we are?” I questioned, turning to face him.
“No. I mean for more offices. We’re expanding all the time and running out of room to house everyone. Our building is full to capacity. We need someplace to put the new employees,” Oliver clarified.
“So, you would take this floor over? Seems pretty swanky and they would have this lovely atrium and living roof,” I mused, taking in the surroundings.
“I was thinking of moving some of the executives over here,” Oliver suggested.
“We’re executives, well at least you are,” I replied, a hint of self-doubt in my voice.
“You are too,” Oliver insisted.”
He pulled me closer, wrapping his arm around my waist and turning me to face him. He kissed me tenderly on the lips, and I responded by running my hands through his hair, scratching the nape of his neck with my nails.
“Wouldn’t it be fun to make love in this bed of grass?” Oliver whispered, his voice playful.
I pulled away, staring at him incredulously. “Are you out of your mind? People would see two naked bodies rolling around a patch of grass like this. We have our own patio to make love on.”
“But we never do,” Oliver countered, his tone teasing.
“Because we’ll be seen. Did you forget there are two buildings a little higher than ours?” I reminded him.
“Trust me, no one is watching,” Oliver assured me, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Uh, huh. Have you ever watched television? Plenty of people are voyeurs in this city.”
“I guess I’ll just have to take you away to some remote place and make love to you in a field.”
Oliver liked to push the envelope sometimes, moving me away from my comfort zone. He was so unlike any man I’d ever been with, but I liked it, I liked having new experiences to a degree.
I quirked an eyebrow. “What is this fit of exhibitionism lately?”
"It’s not exhibitionism. It’s wanting to make love to you all over the place,” Oliver insisted, his eyes warm with affection.
“You’ve made love to me in plenty of places. Te amo mi cielo,” I replied softly, smiling at him.
Oliver grinned. “Why don’t you speak Spanish more? You know I’m fluent.”
“I don’t know. My Spanish is good, it’s my French that sucks,” I admitted with a chuckle.
“But at least you speak other languages. I like that,” Oliver said fondly.
“You speak more,” I pointed out.
“Not fluently, but I can get by,” he replied.
My fiancé was a man of the world, learning to communicate with his counterparts in other countries. I loved that he didn’t assume everyone should speak English to accommodate him.
I checked my watch and sighed. “We should go back. We’ve been out for over an hour.”
“Who’s going to tell the boss? Don’t say it,” Oliver teased.
“Arrogant asshole,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.
“Will you ever stop?” he asked with a playful smirk.
“When you stop being one,” I shot back.
“Maybe you’ll mellow when you have a baby,” Oliver suggested.
“Don’t bet on it. Sadie has been making Finley crazy. Every time Teagan sneezes, she thinks it’s an emergency,” I replied, shaking my head.
“I hope you won’t be that way,” Oliver said, a hint of concern in his voice.
“Time will only tell. I haven’t had any babies to take care of except when I babysat about a hundred years ago,” I chuckled.
“We can get a nanny to help,” Oliver offered.
“I want to do it. My mother would help for a little while, but I want to be hands-on,” I insisted.
“Would you work after you give birth? You don’t have to,” Oliver asked gently.
“I know, but I think I might want to. You should think about a daycare center. I know there are working mothers at Fox,” I suggested.
“Maybe you should check into the cost,” Oliver agreed, his expression thoughtful. “And space. The building is packed. Without a vacancy, we wouldn’t be able to set one up.”
I backed away from him and opened my arms. “What about up here? The children can play outdoors when it’s nice.”
“I’m not sure. I would have to think about it. Speak to Mark and let him draw up a budget analysis,” I replied, considering the idea of a daycare center at Fox.
“Suppose it’s too much?” I asked, concern etching my features.
“How much is it worth to you?” he countered, meeting my gaze squarely.
“It’s worth it. I know some of these women miss their children or it’s very expensive for daycare. I’m sure they would love to be able to see their kids during the day,” I said thoughtfully.
“I’m putting it in your hands. You check it out and we’ll go over the figures,” he decided, nodding decisively.
“Why didn’t you ever consider it before? You have a lot of women on staff,” I wondered aloud.
“I just never thought about it,” he admitted with a shrug.
“I’m glad I brought it up,” I said sincerely.
“Don’t thank me yet. We have to see what the cost is,” he cautioned.
“If it’s too much, then what about asking for a contribution? As long as it’s less than families are paying now, it would be worth it. We could set up a deduction from their paychecks,” I suggested, my mind already working on potential solutions.
“Let’s crunch the numbers first and then we’ll talk. We should head back. I have a conference call in a half hour, and I have some notes to go over,” he said, glancing at his watch.
We gathered our things and made our way back to the elevator, our minds already focused on the next steps in our busy day.