Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
“Fine.” My voice climbs. “Then don’t rig it at all. Let’s just end this.”
Sebastian will make it back in time. He has to.
“You could do that.” Oliver turns away from the view of the rough sea. “Though I imagine the legacy members would be fascinated to hear what’s been planned by all of you.”
Is he bluffing? His eyes give nothing away, and that’s the trouble with Oliver—I can never be sure of the lines he’s willing to cross.
“Then tell them.” I throw my arms wide. “Maybe the legacy members will want to fuck me too.”
Landon chokes on his drink. Liam goes pale. Ford loses a fight with a grin, and Vance…
Well, he seems impressed.
But it’s Hugo who speaks up. “No one is telling anyone anything, Novalee.” He actually glares at Oliver, which stuns me. “I know you don’t want to hurt her like that.”
“He’s right, I don’t.” Oliver closes the space between us. “So stop being dramatic. Everyone here can see what’s between us. If I can accept it, so can you. We’re all adults, so what are you so afraid of?”
My eyes burn hot. I can barely acknowledge it to myself, let alone say it out loud. “Don’t make me do this.”
He swallows hard, never breaking eye contact. “We need a moment alone, gentlemen.”
“Out of the question.” Liam lets go of the chair and takes to pacing.
“It’s not your call.” My words stop him mid-stride. “It’s Hugo’s.”
“Actually,” Hugo says, shaking his head, “it’s your choice, my queen.”
What a foreign concept, a decision that belongs to me.
So foreign that I’m not prepared for it. But God help me, as reckless as it seems, I’d rather face Oliver without an audience.
Because he’s right—they all see it. I’m not hiding a damn thing.
“Five minutes alone,” I say, then pull in a deep breath. “That’s it.”
Liam rounds on my brother, objection at the ready, but Landon heads him off.
“Let them have a moment. She’s a big girl, Chancellor.”
Oliver tilts his head toward the hall, and I slip past him without a word, my heart a frantic drum in my chest. The relief of leaving that crowded room hits me immediately, though it’s short-lived.
As the door to Liam’s office clicks shut, sealing us in the quiet gloom, the air pulls close, too intimate now that it’s just the two of us.
Every instinct screams at me to bolt back to the others, but I made this choice, and now I have to see it through.
“I’ll ask again,” Oliver says, leaning against the desk. “What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid of anything.” If only that sounded convincing.
“You’re a bad liar, sweetheart.” His voice is low, stripped of its usual teasing edge. “I have the files Landon needs to bury Jerome for good. I have the vote you need so you can marry Liam. Isn’t that what you want?”
“It’s not that simple.” I press my lips together, avoiding his gaze, and the mahogany bookshelves blur in my vision.
“Then let me make it simple. I know you want to see justice for your friend. I want that, too.” He pushes off the desk, and the space between us shrinks, sizzling with this thing that won’t quit. “We have something, Novalee. You can’t deny you enjoyed your time with me. So what’s holding you back?”
The truth winds around my neck, making it impossible to speak.
“Are you worried about upsetting Liam?”
My fingernails bite into my palms.
He sighs. “Is it Sebastian?”
For a wild second, I think he knows—that he’s seen straight through me since the morning after Sebastian came and went at the Davenport Estate.
Instead of calling me out, he softens his expression. “Losing someone like that, it takes time. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that we have to move on. He wouldn’t want you living your life for the ghost of him.”
The savage irony of it makes my head spin. I have to suck in a breath to keep from laughing, or maybe sobbing.
Sebastian isn’t a ghost.
He’s alive, trying to get home, and I’m standing here letting Oliver Whitney believe he’s comforting me.
And I’m protesting too much. If I keep fighting his terms, pretending the idea of spending time with him is some unspeakable punishment, he’ll start digging.
Elise’s face flashes in my mind. Her tears in front of that baby boutique, the shame she carries because of Jerome.
My guilt can’t decide this—not when it leaves her in the crosshairs.
Giving Oliver what he wants protects her.
It protects Sebastian.
My resistance deflates, leaving me cold and hollow.
Oliver registers the change, and something in his posture shifts. He knows he has me.
There’s no point dragging it out. “What are your terms?”
“One weekend a month.”
“In your house?”
“Yes.” A hint of a satisfied smile tugs at his lips. “The locked room is optional. You will always have a say with me, Novalee.”
“But I don’t. Not really, right?”