Chapter 3
Oliver took me to a charming French bistro for dinner. I ordered the petite filet mignon and fingerling potatoes, but my focus wasn't entirely on the meal.
Throughout dinner, my fiancé seduced me with his eyes and playful banter, building anticipation until we left the restaurant. By then, I was so aroused that I could feel the dampness between my thighs, eager for what awaited us at home.
On the drive back, we teased each other, delaying our desire until we stepped through our front door.
“Harder, Oliver,” I moaned as he had me bent over the arm of the couch in our living room. My light blue lace panties lay in shreds on the floor, skirt hiked up to my waist. He thrust into me with a primal intensity that took my breath away, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through me.
“Shit, Ryleigh, I’m going to tear you apart if I go any harder,” he rasped, his voice filled with lust.
I tightened around him, groaning his name as I finally reached my climax. He slowed momentarily, allowing me to ride out the waves of pleasure before picking up speed again. I clung to the fabric of the couch, feeling every powerful thrust until he found release a minute later. Oliver folded over my back, his hot breath on my neck as he caught his breath.
“You’re a fucking tease,” he growled, his voice still rough with desire.
“So are you. Don’t blame me when you’re just as guilty,” I teased back, a satisfied smile playing on my lips.
“But I wanted to fuck you in the limo. You’re the one who said no,” Oliver retorted.
“Because I wanted to wait until we got home. We couldn’t go wild in the limo. But we can here,” I explained, breathless and content.
“I hope you’ll be just as adventurous on our honeymoon,” he mused.
“I plan to be. Maybe we can make love outdoors, like at the lagoon,” I suggested playfully.
“I was hoping you’d shed some inhibitions on Fox Island. I want you to feel free,” Oliver said, his tone filled with longing.
“I can’t walk around naked. We still have staff to consider,” I replied with a chuckle, already looking forward to our future adventures together.
“They’ll be tucked away after a certain hour. We can handle snacks and things ourselves,” Oliver said as he stood up and pulled out of me. He helped me to my feet, swiftly adjusting my skirt. I gathered up the shreds of my panties from the floor and shook them playfully at him.
“You owe me some pairs,” I teased.
“You have the credit card. Buy whatever you like,” Oliver replied with a grin.
“Good. I’ll be stopping at Boudoir Fashions to pick out some new items. I might even get some surprises for our honeymoon,” I said mischievously.
“I can only hope,” Oliver said, his voice tinged with anticipation.
“What’s that supposed to mean? It’s not like I wear old ratty panties,” I retorted.
“I’m not referring to your panties. You sleep in t-shirts almost every night,” Oliver admitted.
“Does that bother you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No, but I prefer to see you in lingerie,” he confessed.
I pressed my panties to his chest and then dropped them, heading down the hall towards the shower. I could hear Oliver's belt buckle jingling as he followed me.
“Ryleigh?” he called out.
“What?” I replied, glancing back at him.
“Are you angry with me?” he asked, sounding concerned.
“No, not at all,” I reassured him.
“Then why did you walk away?” he queried.
“I was making a statement,” I replied coyly.
“I’m not sure exactly what that statement would be,” Oliver admitted, sounding puzzled.
“Why bother with lingerie when most of the time I end up naked?” I explained.
“I know, but it would be nice to unwrap it from you sometimes,” he said softly.
I couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
“Are you showering?” he asked, changing the subject.
“I feel like a bath. Want to join me?”
“Sounds nice. I think I will.”
Fifteen minutes later, we were soaking in a tub full of fragrant lime basil bubbles. I nestled between Oliver’s legs, my back pressed against his chest. His fingers wove through my hair, twisting it into a loose bun on top of my head.
"I love your hair," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.
I smiled, leaning into his touch. "I was thinking of cutting it for the wedding. Something shorter."
"Please don’t," he said, his voice almost pleading. "I love it long."
"Have you decided on a bachelor party?" I asked, shifting slightly to look at him.
Oliver's brows furrowed, a familiar look of contemplation crossing his face. "I still want to do it as one group. Why are you against it?"
"I just want to go out with the girls," I replied, feeling a hint of defensiveness creeping in.
"Why? Do you want to go to a male strip club?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.
"Don’t be ridiculous," I laughed, splashing water at him. "What the hell would I need to look at naked men for when I have you?"
He chuckled, wrapping his arms around me tighter. "How about we spend the night out separately, and meet at Diamond Square later? I can get a suite for all of us."
"And do what?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Party the rest of the night away," he suggested with a grin.
"Oliver, are you worried about security?" I asked, turning serious.
His expression softened, and he kissed my temple. "I’m always worried about your security. I want you to be safe."
"I have Brenda and Raquel. I’ll be safe," I assured him.
"What clubs are you thinking of going to?" he asked, a hint of concern still lingering in his voice.
"Not sure yet, why?" I replied, curious.
"Why not my clubs?" he suggested.
"Show Me Yours?" I asked.
"I have others," he said, his tone casual.
I looked up at him, surprise evident on my face. "Which others?"
"Club North, Balance, and Ceiling," he listed offhandedly.
"You own Ceiling?" I asked, my eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
"Yes. I purchased it a few months before we started dating. It’s been renovated," he explained.
"With an office where you can watch everyone?" I asked, half-joking.
"The office overlooks the dance floor," he admitted with a smirk.
I shivered, remembering the thrilling night at Show Me Yours when we were hidden in the office, our activities unnoticed by the oblivious clubgoers.
"That sounds... intriguing," I said, a smile playing on my lips.
Oliver's eyes darkened as he leaned closer. "Would you like to do that again?"
I batted my eyelashes innocently. "Do what again?" I asked coyly.
He growled low in his throat, his fingers tightening on my hips. "Don't play dumb with me. You know what."
I stifled a groan, memories flooding back. That night was when I really knew Oliver loved me. He didn't care that I was a sweaty mess or that my eyeliner had made me look like a raccoon. He just wanted me.
Licking my lips, I whispered, "Sex while the music pulses against the walls?"
Oliver's breath hitched. "My office isn't as soundproof," he admitted, "but no one will hear a thing with the music."
I pretended to consider it, tapping a finger against my chin. "I'll think about it."
"Does that mean you want to go out as one group?" Oliver asked, hope coloring his tone.
I shook my head slightly. "We could meet up later on."
Relief washed over his face. "Yes, we could do that."
Curiosity got the better of me. "What are you planning to do with your buddies?"
"Those buddies will include your two brothers," Oliver reminded me, raising an eyebrow.
I rolled my eyes. "Well, what are you planning to do?"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Go to a cigar bar and drink brandy."
"That's boring," I teased, poking his chest.
Oliver chuckled. "But it's my party. I don't need to get crazy."
"And you're old," I added with a smirk. "In fact, some of your friends are old too."
He narrowed his eyes playfully. "Keep telling me I'm old, I'm gonna start believing it."
I tilted my head, genuinely curious now. "Are your friends ever planning to marry? You're the first."
"I'm the first domino," Oliver said confidently. "I bet the others will follow."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Always have to be the leader, don't you?"
His eyes gleamed with pride. "Damn right," he said, puffing out his chest slightly.
I shook my head in amusement and pushed his arms off me, turning around so I could see his face properly. He wore a silly little grin that made him look almost boyish, and my heart melted a little at the sight.
"I think it's time to get out," I announced, running a finger down his chest. "I'd like dessert."
Oliver's eyebrows shot up. "Any ideas?"
I bit my lip suggestively. "I thought we could feed each other ice cream."
His grin widened, eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Works for me."
After dessert, Oliver retreated to his office to handle some work. I sat in bed, aimlessly flipping through channels on the flat-screen television opposite me. The monotony quickly set in, so I decided to call Sadie to check in on everyone.
"Hey, perfect timing," Sadie greeted, sounding relieved.
"Why do you say that?" I asked, curious.
I reclined in bed, staring at the screen as Sadie talked. I felt exhausted but I hadn’t spoken to my former roommate in a while.
"I just put Teagan to bed, and your brother is working on something in his office."
I snorted. "Oliver is too. They just can't seem to tear themselves away. How are things going?"
"Very good," Sadie replied. "Finley is only going to the office two days a week, and he's been wonderful with Teagan."
"I'm surprised. I never thought he would be so confident as a father."
"Why do you say that?" Sadie asked, her tone inquisitive.
"He wasn't very patient with me when I was a little girl. He used to hand me off to Matthew."
"That was years ago. He even changes Teagan's diapers," she said, a hint of pride in her voice.
"I'd like to see her," I said, smiling at the thought of my niece.
"Anytime you want. We won't be going out for a while," Sadie responded.
"Why is that?" I asked, concerned.
"I feel funny leaving her with anyone but us," Sadie admitted.
"You need a break. We could watch her for you," I offered.
"When was the last time you took care of a baby?" she asked, doubt creeping into her voice.
"Trouble," I said, glancing over at the dog in his bed. He raised his head at the sound of his name.
"He's a dog, not a child," Sadie reminded me, laughing.
"I've taken care of children before," I insisted.
"Several years ago," she countered.
"I'm her aunt. I would treat her like gold," I promised earnestly.
"I'll think about your offer," Sadie said, her tone softening.
"Now you make me feel like a stranger. Does this mean you won't be coming to my bachelorette party?" I asked, a hint of worry in my voice.
"I'm coming. My mother will probably stay with Teagan," she assured me.
"Just keep me in mind if you want a night out," I said, hoping she'd consider it.
We chatted for a few more minutes before Sadie's yawning became frequent. I could imagine how it was having a baby who got you up several times a night. Eventually, I would have one and be in the same boat.
"Why don't you go rest?" I suggested gently.
"Thanks. Teagan had me up a few times last night," she admitted, her voice weary.
"I'll talk to you later. Call me when you get a chance," I said, feeling a pang of sympathy.
After hanging up, I slipped under the covers, the warmth enveloping me. Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep, only to stir when Oliver pressed his body against mine, his warmth a comforting presence.
Today, we were going through the invitations we had received. I had been so busy that I hadn’t opened any of the ones from before St. Croix, instead putting them into a box. Now we had close to four hundred. I got set up at the kitchen table, waiting for Oliver to get home from the office.
He walked through the door shortly before noon, dressed casually in a pair of slacks and a polo shirt. Oliver could easily be a poster boy for preppy. He put his black briefcase down next to the couch before approaching the table, tipping my head up for a kiss.
“You have everything set?” he asked, his eyes sparkling.
“Yes, just waiting for you. Can I get you something to drink?” I offered.
“I should be having a celebratory cocktail now that the contract is signed. I thought this would never happen,” he said, a triumphant grin spreading across his face.
“You’re a great negotiator. What are your plans for the property?” I asked, curious.
“I haven’t decided. Either luxury condos or a high-rise hotel. I have plenty of space for either a small park or a large pool,” he explained, settling into a chair.
“What does the area need more?” I inquired, leaning forward.
“Neither, but with more people migrating to the south, residences might be the better way to go,” he replied thoughtfully.
“You’ll figure it out. Let’s get started. We have a lot to open,” I said, handing him a stack of invitations.
Oliver took the stack and began reading off the guest names while I wrote them down. Over the past few months, I’d adopted Oliver’s habit of writing things by hand rather than electronically. It made me remember them better. He paused, looking at me.
“I think I should write down the names,” he suggested.
“Does it matter?” I asked, puzzled.
“You’re better at this stuff,” he said.
I frowned. “What stuff? Reading names?”
“All this stuff. I’ve barely had input,” he admitted, a hint of frustration in his voice.
I sighed and rolled my eyes, but relented, handing him the pad and pen. I pulled the stack of cream-colored envelopes off the top and opened the first one. We went through over a hundred before I got a paper cut on my index finger. I sucked it into my mouth, wincing.
“You okay?” Oliver asked, concern flashing in his eyes.
“Just a paper cut,” I muttered, waving it off.
“You should use my letter opener. Want me to get it?”
“Why didn’t you suggest this before?” I huffed.
“I don’t know.”
He rose from the chair, and I took my finger out of my mouth to inspect the cut. It was minor, but it still stung. The letter opener helped, and I went through at least fifty more invitations before I came upon a name I didn’t want to see.
“Lara Harvin? I never sent her an invitation,” I said, my voice sharp with disbelief.
“I did,” Oliver replied calmly. “We’re friends. I can’t ignore her.”
“Oliver, I don’t like her. She wants you,” I protested, frustration bubbling up.
“She doesn’t want me. She was trying to get under your skin,” he said, meeting my gaze steadily.
“And it worked. Don’t you think it’s disrespectful to have someone who insulted me at our wedding?” I demanded, my hands clenched.
He ground his teeth. “I could say the same about Tyler. Don’t think I don’t know he’s been badmouthing me. I know he dislikes me,” Oliver countered, his tone firm.
“He is not. He’s protective of me,” I insisted, my voice rising.
“His services are no longer needed. You have me to protect you,” he said, crossing his arms.
“I’ve known Ty since I was a baby. You can’t expect me to exclude him,” I argued, my frustration mounting.
“And you can’t expect me to exclude Lara because you don’t like her,” Oliver retorted, a hint of challenge in his eyes.
I waved my hand in frustration. “You know what, fine. Put the bitch on the list, but she better keep her snide comments to herself. I don’t want to be insulted on my wedding day,” I snapped, my anger simmering.
“She’ll behave,” Oliver assured me, his voice steady.
“Can you guarantee that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“Yes, or she’ll be escorted out of the reception,” he promised.
“All she has to do is keep her mouth shut,” I muttered, turning back to the invitations.
“I promise,” he said softly, his hand gently squeezing mine.
I went back to opening invitations, not saying another word. By the time the list was completed, we had four hundred and twenty-three guests. Everyone that sent in an invitation was a yes. We still had a few days before the responses were due. I was satisfied with the number of guests we had, but I was sure we would get more. Oliver leaned back in his chair, stretching.
“Whew, now I really need a drink,” he said, rubbing his temples.
“I have a bottle of white in the refrigerator. Do you want a glass?” I offered, trying to ease the tension.
“Yes, definitely. It’s beautiful today. Want to sit on the patio?” he suggested, his tone hopeful.
“That sounds nice,” I agreed, feeling the weight of the argument lift slightly.
Oliver went outside, taking Trouble with him while I opened the bottle of wine and poured two glasses. He was sitting on one of the loungers with the dog next to him.
“I think we should add some grass out here,” Oliver mused as I handed him his wine and sat down next to him. Trouble moved next to me, nosing at my hand that dangled down.
“That sounds like a nice idea,” I replied, scratching Trouble behind his ears.
“Trouble would have some place to do his business other than that small patch we have,” Oliver said, taking a sip of his wine.
“It wouldn’t be for his use only,” I teased, giving him a playful nudge.
“Obviously. He’s smart, and we could train him to go in one spot like he does now,” he said, smiling. “I’ll look into it on Monday,” he promised, leaning back in his chair.
A gentle breeze was blowing the warm late June air around, and I closed my eyes as it ran through my hair. In another month, I would be married to one of the most eligible bachelors in the world. It was hard to fathom.
“We should go out to the house in Southampton for the holiday,” Oliver suggested, breaking the silence.
I looked up from the figures I was going over. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? We could’ve invited friends and family.”
The holiday weekend was two days away, and our week had been so hectic that we hadn’t really discussed our plans. I had assumed we would hang around the city, which usually became a bit of a ghost town during the July Fourth weekend. Since Monday was the holiday, most people were leaving the city on Friday afternoon or evening.
“I want it to be just us,” Oliver said, his eyes twinkling.
“In that big house?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Are you afraid to be with me alone?” he teased, a playful grin on his lips.
I snorted. “Are you insane? Why would I be afraid?” I shot back, rolling my eyes.
“I’ve decided to give the staff off. It’ll be us, and us only,” he said.
I tapped my pen on the desk. “And what do you have in mind, Mr. Fox?” I asked, intrigued by his mischievous expression.
“Just a preview of our honeymoon,” Oliver replied with a devilish grin.
“I’m going to be sore, aren’t I?” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper.
He crossed his arms. “Now you’re catching my drift. Very sore,” he confirmed, his eyes darkening with promise.
My core clenched at the thought of having sex in every room imaginable. Oliver would be thirty-eight in October, and he didn’t seem to be slowing down. I hoped he never would.
“When do you want to leave?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Later Friday,” he replied.
“Or we can leave late Thursday and forget working on Friday,” I suggested, a hopeful tone in my voice.
He shook his head. “I can’t do that. I have a conference call with James Ryder,” he said, shaking his head.
I wrinkled my nose. “I thought you were finished with the Ryders?” I asked, surprised.
“He has asked to discuss a possible partnership for property in Palm Springs,” Oliver explained.
“I hope his son won’t be involved,” I muttered, my irritation evident.
“James assured me he’s busy with other things,” Oliver replied.
“I’m sorry I created a problem for you,” I said, looking down.
“The problem wasn’t created by you. It was created by his son and nephew. You have nothing to feel guilty for,” he said firmly, lifting my chin to meet his gaze.
“I don’t feel guilty. I feel responsible,” I admitted, my voice soft.
“Why? Because you’re beautiful and men can’t behave around you?” He rolled his eyes. “How is that your fault?”
“I’m sure Lara wouldn’t agree,” I said, bitterness creeping into my voice.
“Lara is a cat with claws. Her beauty doesn’t compare to yours,” Oliver said, dismissing her with a wave.
“She’s a model. I’m sure plenty would beg to differ,” I said, my insecurity flaring up.
“Ryleigh, can we get back on subject?” he asked, his tone exasperated.
“Can we just move on? I want to discuss the weekend,” I said, taking a deep breath.
“We can leave on Friday afternoon, but I won’t be happy about it,” he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice.
“Who are we taking with us, besides Vlad?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation light.
“Brenda and Raquel, unless you want Trevor,” Oliver replied, his voice steady.
I nodded, feeling a bit of relief. Oliver usually had the female agents or Trevor travel with us. I was more comfortable with them than the new agents that had been added to the team. I didn’t know them as well, and they were all male.
“Vlad, Brenda, and Raquel are fine,” I agreed.
“Then it’s settled,” Oliver said, sitting down on the couch and spreading his arms along the back of it. He looked relaxed, a stark contrast from his demeanor this morning.
During a conference call, which I listened in on, one of his subordinates had questioned him about something Oliver had already gone over. He tore into the man, letting him know the time for questions on the subject should’ve been asked ten minutes before.
There was dead silence from the other members on the call. Oliver had woken up in a foul mood to begin with. I wasn’t sure what his problem was, and he didn’t elaborate, only answering me with one word when I asked a question during breakfast. By lunchtime, he had calmed, and now he looked very relaxed.
“How are you feeling?” I asked cautiously.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” he replied, raising an eyebrow.
“You were more than a bit short with Al Stebbins this morning,” I pointed out gently.
I saw Oliver’s jaw clench, but he didn’t change his position. “Al Stebbins is a jackass. He’s tottering on the line of being dismissed.”
“Why exactly? He seems to do good work,” I said, trying to understand.
“Yes, seems to. He takes credit for the work of others. I’ve been debating whether to let him go, but after this morning, I think I have my answer,” Oliver explained, his tone growing colder.
“He has a family,” I reminded him, hoping for some empathy.
“He should’ve thought of that before he pushed me. You would be wise to take a lesson from this. If you want to be a boss, part of the job is firing people. You can’t keep someone that is a detriment to the company employed because they have a family. Al has had more than one chance. Today was his third strike,” he said firmly.
I scowled. “I know part of the job as a boss is to fire people. I just want it done with some compassion.”
“He’ll be given a severance package even though he doesn’t deserve it,” Oliver said dismissively.
“If you say so,” I mumbled, feeling defeated.
“Would you like to switch positions? You handle the big stuff and I’ll take care of construction budgets and charming the contractors?” Oliver suggested, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Fuck you, Oliver. Don’t patronize me. I don’t charm the contractors. I speak to them like they’re people,” I snapped, my temper flaring.
“And I don’t?” he shot back, his eyes narrowing.
“Are you itching for a fight?” I challenged, standing my ground.
“I just want you to realize you need to toughen up. I don’t like it when you question my motives,” he said, his voice tense.
“Of course you don’t. You don’t like it when anyone questions you, period. Do me a favor, go back to your office and give me some space,” I said, my voice steady but firm.
Oliver stared at me, his sapphire eyes boring a hole through me. I didn’t break his gaze, and he was the first to turn away as he rose from the couch.
“I’ll talk to you when it’s time to go home.”
“Good. Three hours should be enough time for me to cool down.”
Oliver didn’t look back as he left my office. I put down the report I was going through and sagged against the back of my chair. Lately, we’d been having little arguments and I decided to chalk it up to our impending nuptials. Maybe a weekend away would get us back on track.