“Matthew had a rather extensive criminal history... what business would Alan Windsor have with someone like that?”
“I don’t know,” repeated Oliver.
“Do you think your father could kill someone, Oliver?”
This time Alan’s defense attorney stands up, slamming his palm down on his desk.
“Objection. Leading question.”
The judge sighs. This woman looks exhausted and we’re hardly through the trial. I can’t imagine having the pressure of this case weighing on you.
“Mr. Abernathy,” she said, “I’m going to ask you again not to lead the witnesses.”
“Sorry, judge,” he nodded, turning his attention back to Oliver. “Oliver, do you know somebody named...” he paused, going back over to the table to check his notes. “Willow Thomas?”
“Yes.”
“And how do you know Willow Thomas?”
“Objection!” Alan’s attorney sighed again. “What’s the relevance here?”
“I’m getting there,” Abernathy said, holding his hand up. “Follow me for a second.”
“Answer the question, Mr. Windsor,” commanded the judge.
“Willow and I dated for a short time,” said Oliver. “I don’t see how that’s—”
“Relevant,” interrupted Abernathy. “Right. Like I said, we’re getting there. And where does Miss Thomas work?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her since we broke up.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve pulled phone records and it shows that you called Miss Thomas the night after Matthew’s body was discovered,” continued Abernathy. “For the record, Miss Thomas still works at Cove Golf Course. She actually recently became a manager there.”
“I still don’t see where this is going,” The judge said, looking down at Abernathy and Oliver. “So, get to your point soon or I’m striking all of this off of the record.”
“Apologies, judge,” Abernathy smiled - and he’s charming. I feel like Abernathy could get away with whatever he wanted – just like Oliver. “Why did you call Miss Thomas that night? Was it to get her to change records to show that you and your father were at the Cove that day? She has that ability as a manager.”
The courtroom is silent. I’m shocked – and so is everybody else. It appears that Oliver has backed himself into a corner and I don’t know how he’s going to get out. Oliver adjusts himself in his seat, straightening up.
“If you must know, I called Willow to have dinner with me that night,” said Oliver uncomfortably.
“So, you lied about not speaking to her since the breakup?”
“My current girlfriend is in the courtroom,” he said looking at me. “I didn’t want her to know that I saw my ex so soon before we got together. I apologize for the lie.”
Something about this doesn’t sit right with me. It makes me feel uneasy. I don’t know exactly what it is, but I don’t like it. I glance over at the jury, trying to read their faces, trying for the umpteenth time to figure out who has been paid off and who hasn’t. The jury presents me with unreadable faces as they watch Oliver and Abernathy prepare themselves for battle.
The judge looks down at Oliver.
“Mr. Windsor, I’m going to remind you that you were sworn in to tell the truth and that it’s illegal to lie on stand.”
“I’m sorry,” he said sounding incredibly honest.
“Is it not the least bit strange that you decide to go out to dinner with Miss Thomas a day after a body is discovered at your residence?” asked Abernathy. “Isn’t it strange that you chose the one person in your dating history who could help you cover up your father’s crime in some way?”
“It’s a coincidence,” Oliver shrugged. I don’t know how he looks so cool and calm up there. Abernathy is one step away from piecing things together, but you wouldn’t be able to tell that from looking at Oliver’s expression. “I enjoyed Willow’s company while we were together. In a time of stress and need, I sought her out again. I’m sure you’ve talked to her about that night, correct?”
“I’m asking the questions, Mr. Windsor,” said Abernathy. When he refers to Oliver as Mr. Windsor, it’s like a chill has blown through the courtroom. A shift has taken place. Am I the only one who notices the change?
“Apologies,” said Oliver. “But if you had spoken to Willow, you’d know that our meeting that evening was purely one of stress release. She understood and so did I. Never during our evening did I mention the case or what was happening to her. I wanted to forget about it for a moment because I knew how much stress my family would be under in the upcoming weeks due to the event.”
When Oliver speaks...he’s believable. If he hadn’t confessed to me that he was involved, if I didn’t know how long and twisted the history of this case is...I would believe him.
I watch as Abernathy’s face falls. He thought he had something and now he doesn’t and he’s upset. I watch his fallen face, with eyes that reflect exactly what they’re feeling, turn to the judge.
“That’ll be all,” he said. He tries to hide the defeat in his voice, but it’s there – I can hear it.
I go home with Oliver to the manor that night. I’m not sure why, but I do. I think a part of me wants to continue to pretend like things are normal. I think I’m still clinging to when things were normal. I don’t think I have the guts to admit to him, and myself, that things can’t go back to how they used to be.
We both know it though. We dance around the subject. My coldness towards him, his desperation to pull us back together. It’s clear through our movements, how we speak. Tonight, something else is weighing on my mind and I don’t know how to approach the subject.
Because we don’t talk anymore. Not like we used to. Back in the beginning, which was such a short time ago but feels like decades now, we talked all the time. We opened up and revealed secrets to one another. We talked through the tragic backstories and the painful moments in our lives. I never would have imagined the real secret that Oliver was keeping from me. Our conversations have become curt and predictable. The typical go around of a couple who has been together for years, who no longer enjoys the company of one another but stays anyway, except it’s barely been two months for us.
This fell apart so quickly.
I’m sitting on the edge of Oliver’s bed. It’s large, with the same luxurious white duvet as the guest room bed has, plus four large bedposts reaching toward the ceiling. The bed itself is made of dark wood, just like the wood in Alan’s study. The wood is themed the same way throughout the room, matching the dresser, the end tables, and the coffee table in front of the fireplace. Oliver’s bedroom is cozy, with a fireplace off to the side, luxuriously thick blankets, and burgundy accents. It’s a place where one could easily stay a whole day, just relaxing, unwinding.
Oliver stands with his back to me, looking in the mirror as he unties his tie and lets it fall carelessly to the floor. I think I spot a designer label on it as it falls.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked out of the blue. He doesn’t turn to look at me, instead, trying to make eye contact through the mirror.
If my emotions weren’t in such a whirlwind now, I’d have to give him credit. Oliver’s trying for normality more than I am.
“Nothing.”
I quickly dismiss him, although I don’t break our mirrored eye contact. We both know I’m lying, but it’s up to him to call me on my bluff.
I don’t think he will for a second. Oliver breaks the eye contact and unbuttons his dress shirt, discarding it on the ground with his tie. I take the moment to admire him, despite my current feelings toward him. I watch his rippling muscles, perfectly sculpted. His sun-kissed skin is begging to be touched – I wish I had it in me.
“Cassidy,” when he speaks, I jump, not expecting it. I look back at him and our eye contact is made once more. “I understand how things have been lately and I cannot imagine what you’re going through, but you need t
o communicate with me. If we want this to have even the slimmest chance of working, we need to talk.”
It’s an obvious fact, but I can’t. I can’t talk to him about what’s really haunting my thoughts, about what’s making it hard for me to eat, hard for me to sleep. I can’t tell him that I love him yet. I can’t even look at him. I can’t confess how sick it makes me to think that his hands have touched my skin when it’s still all I crave.
“I know,” I said in a small voice. “But...”
Nothing good ever comes out when a ‘but’ is involved.
“Did you really use Willow as a cover up?” I finally asked.
Oliver’s face instantly changes. It goes from concerned boyfriend, to the Windsor cold stare. It’s a blank, un-telling expression that makes me feel uneasy down in my core. I know when that expression takes over, nothing good is going to happen.
“Cassidy, I did what I had to do,” he said coldly. “I don’t wish to discuss the past with you. It’s pointless.”
If this were a conversation about whether or not he dated somebody or if he was still hooking up with girls in the beginning of our relationship before we were a thing, I could understand his dismissal. Hell, I think I would agree with it at that point. But this isn’t something so simplistic and I need an answer.
“Oliver,” I tried to take on the same firm voice as he used. “Maybe you view it as pointless, but I do not. It’s something I wish to discuss with you, so can we?”
And then I wait, not-so-patiently, for him to either strike back or answer my question.
He looks uneasy. It’s for a brief second, but he does. It’s clear that I’ve knocked him off of his game. He turns to me then; our eyes make contact not through the mirror any longer but with each other. He’s still shirtless and that’s one hell of a distraction, but I need to stick to my guns.
“Yes, Cassidy. I used Willow as a cover up.”
“Did you sleep with her?” I don’t know why the question is so important to me, but it is.
Oliver sighs, steel eyes glancing up towards the ceiling and not at my face any longer.
“Yes, Cassidy. I slept with her. It was before we were even a thing, so I don’t know why it matters.”
But that’s not why I’m asking. Does it bother me that he slept with someone else so soon before our relationship began? A little bit. I think it would bother anybody, but I knew to expect that from Oliver Windsor. He has a known past as a playboy, as someone who can’t settle down.
Sometimes the tabloids are right.
“Did Willow think something was going to become of things that night? Did she know you were using her?” I pressed on.
“Using her as a cover up? No. Using her as in just a casual hookup? Yes. She was well aware of that,” he said. “If you must know, that was the cornerstone of our previous relationship. It was a purely physical thing. Why are we opening up the past like this?”
“Because it’s not the past. It’s recent. And I have questions. I think I deserve some answers,” I shifted on the bed. “So, you used Willow...did you use me too? Was I just a random cover story for everything? Was I somehow twisted in this mess before I knew what was going on?”
I’m scared of his answer. My fingers twist and untwist in the duvet, nerves rolling through me. I regret even asking the question, but I have to know.
Oliver’s face becomes that blank expression again, and he turns away from me. He walks to his dresser and grabs a plain t-shirt, pulling it on without a word. For a second, I think that he’s just going to ignore me. Hell, I really believe that that’s what’s happening here. He changes into a pair of red and black plaid pajama pants before finally turning back to me. His expression is still unreadable, but that’s because it’s a new one, one that I’m not as familiar with.
“Yes,” he answered and my stomach drops. “But let me explain.”
It feels like all I do is let this man explain. All I do is give him time to explain things and let him worm his way back inside...but I’m curious about his explanation.
“Fine.”
I try to keep my voice steady, try not to let him know that his one-word answer has me breaking on the inside.
“Cassidy, I originally sought out our relationship because it was a good cover. Having a girlfriend would make it seem to make sense that I never mentioned the Willow part of the story before” he explained. “The jury would understand that I didn’t want to cause issues with you. If pressured in court, I would elaborate about how strong my feelings were for you, how I didn’t want to mess things up between us because you were the first person that I felt this strongly for. But...I slowly found myself falling for you. I found myself developing intense feelings to the point where none of those things would be a lie.”
His answer should make me feel better. I should feel good that his feelings toward me aren’t a lie...but I don’t. Instead, I feel betrayed. He pursued me as another excuse to use in court. I was tangled in his web of lies way before his confession to me. I was a pawn and I let him play me like one. I feel disgusted. My stomach turns, my fingers dig further into the duvet cover. I don’t know how to handle this. I swallow, hard.
“When?” I asked. “When did it become something real?”
“Cassidy...”
“No!” My voice is firmer, louder than I meant for it to be. “I think I have the right to know when I wasn’t being toyed with. I deserve to know the whole truth for once, Oliver.” He sighs, shaking his head.
“Fine. You want to know when my feelings for you became real? The first time I thought of something between us?” he asked. “It was that night on the hood of my car. We talked and I felt so damn close to you. Then, it just grew. I knew things were serious that night in your apartment when you confessed how you felt. That’s when I knew I couldn’t lie about my feelings, when I knew this was no longer a game.”
Maybe it should make me feel better that when I started to develop feelings, so did Oliver. But it doesn’t. Instead, I still feel led on. I still feel like I was used as some type of pawn, but he eventually developed an attachment to me. How do I even know if he’s telling the truth?
That stems a new problem. Never before have I doubted Oliver’s feelings toward me. I’ve always believed what he said, but that’s ruined now. We’ll never be able to go back to how we used to be – or move forward to what we could’ve been without this lie between us.
I don’t know what to say. I stare at him for a few moments, blinking, thinking.
“So, you used me and just so happened to fall for me?”
“Cassidy.”
“Oliver, please tell the truth.”
He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. It had remained untouched for most of the day but now it’s a mess.
“Yes, okay. Yes, I used you, Cassidy,” he said exasperated, like I’m exhausting him. Like I’m a child who keeps asking questions over and over again. “But...I love you. All right? I love you. That’s why I’m here. That’s why we’re going through this together. I love you, Cassidy and maybe I messed up in the beginning, but does that really matter now?”
Maybe I should be thrilled that Oliver has finally told me he loves me. In any normal circumstance, I would be jumping into his arms, kissing him. My heart would be soaring, and I would feel complete. I would be so unbelievably happy. But he admitted that he loves me in the same breath as admitting that he used me.
“I...” I sighed. It’s my turn to glance up at the ceiling, deciding not to focus on him because it’s far too hard to maintain eye contact. “I love you, too, Oliver. But I’m having a really hard time looking at you right now because honestly, I just can’t believe you.”
“Cassidy, I know how bad it seems and I’m sorry. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to prove to you how sorry I am,” he said genuinely. I want to believe him. Oliver closes the distance between us, gets on his knees in front of me. He takes my hands in his own, trying to get me to make eye contact with him. “Cassidy,
please believe me.”
Ultimately, I end up looking at him. But I don’t know what to say, I don’t know how to process this.
“Oliver,” I said his name, but lost my train of thought. “I...I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
It’s a quiet confession, something that’s been weighing on my mind for most of this week.
“It’s been a whirlwind of a week when it comes to our relationship. I don’t know what to expect, or think of any longer. I just don’t know.”
“I know,” he said softly.
A part of me expected Oliver to be annoyed with me. From all of my knowledge of him, I know Oliver gets annoyed when things don’t go his way. He gets annoyed when people don’t do what he wants them to. He’s so used to controlling everything – and I realize in some roundabout way, Oliver’s been controlling me. I just never knew it.
“And I’m sorry,” he said sadly. “I’m sorry I put you through all of this and I have no way to take it back or change it. I can just promise to change in the future.”
Again, I find myself desperate to believe him. I find myself needing to believe him, but I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about everything that has happened.
“I know,” I said, looking down at our hands. Shouldn’t I feel comforted with our fingers entwined? Because I don’t. I feel the need to retreat – so I do. I pull my hands away from his, putting them back on the duvet.
“I love you, Oliver. But I don’t love how things have been between us. I don’t love how our relationship is. Not anymore.”
“What are you saying, Cassidy?” he asked.
I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t know what I’m getting at.
“I’m just saying it’s been a lot, Oliver,” I told him softly. “I don’t know what to think or feel anymore. I need...I need a break.”
“A break?” he asked.
“A break from pretending like we’re normal. From acting like I’m okay. I promise I won’t mess things up in public. I’ll keep it looking like things are put together so no suspicion is aroused, but I can’t keep pretending in private.”
His face glosses over with that blank expression again. I hate how quickly he changes. I hate how sudden it always is, how I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
Fake Love Rich Boss Series Page 14