Complicated (Aiden & Olivia Book 2)

Home > Romance > Complicated (Aiden & Olivia Book 2) > Page 2
Complicated (Aiden & Olivia Book 2) Page 2

by Stephanie Julian


  For the past year or so, he’s been talking about moving, somewhere smaller, somewhere warmer, where he can buy a business and “live like normal people.”

  Since our lives have never been normal, I have no idea how “normal people” live. I do know I’d be bored stupid working behind a desk or a store counter or whatever else people do to make money to eat.

  So would my brothers. And so would Dad. He’d be looking for his next adventure in less than a month. We know because we’re exactly the same. Adrenaline junkies.

  Which occasionally lands us in situations like the one I’m in now. Where there’s no easy way out.

  If I’m honest, at least with myself, I might not want a way out.

  Maybe I want to go back to that mansion in the woods and see what else Aiden has in store for me.

  Because for the first time in years, I’m excited about what the future holds.

  Chapter Two

  Aiden

  I hear the door close behind Olivia and my first instinct is to drag her back into the house, lay her out on the bed upstairs, and fuck her until neither of us can walk.

  Since I have enough sense to realize this would be treacherously close to the very thin line I’m walking as it is, I manage to keep myself in the chair until I know she’s too far gone for me to catch.

  My muscles ache by the time I head for my bedroom to shower and dress for the office. I briefly consider working from home, but if I stay here, I’ll be climbing the walls in an hour. Better to get out.

  Away from that damn desk.

  Why the hell had I fucked her there? Now every time I sit behind it, I’ll see Olivia spread out naked across it.

  Hell, just thinking about it now makes me hard. I want her again.

  Wanting her is a weakness I can’t afford. So why the hell am I second-guessing every damn little thing?

  Stop with the melodramatics. Don’t allow anything to get in your way. Take what you want.

  Sound advice, even if it was from my dad.

  The bastard had been a thorn in my side since Granddad had stepped down as the head of Squire Incorporated two years ago and named me his successor.

  He’d known his son would’ve run the empire into the ground but he hadn’t wanted to cut my father out entirely. Which is why I can’t get rid of the bastard. And I’ve tried. He’s always lurking on the edges, looking for whatever advantage he can get.

  The problem is, Mark Battle still holds enough power to be a massive pain in my ass. He’s the public face of the company, the legitimate heir. I’m merely his bastard son.

  But his presence allows me to stay behind the scenes, where I can work without obstruction.

  My father enjoys the spotlight. Thrives in it.

  I avoid it whenever possible. I don’t like the glad-handing and the fake smiles and the backstabbing.

  He loves playing king. Luckily for the health of the company, I make all the business decisions. He just needs to smile and look good in the pictures for the Wall Street Journal and Forbes.

  I prefer designing things, building things. Keeping my identity secret allows me to do that without all the bullshit getting in the way. It means I can go to job sites in a hard hat and jeans and blend in without people trying to kiss my ass.

  Granddad made me see that being invisible is an asset. It’s why he’ll never acknowledge me as his grandson. I’m his secret weapon.

  With my libido firmly shoved back into the dark hole where I normally keep it, I shower and dress, slam down three cups of coffee, and head out the door.

  In seconds, I’m on my way to my office in Center City Philadelphia. But I’m already planning to make a stop first.

  I’m positive Oliva headed straight to Patrick Maloney’s home to give him the information I’d given her. But I’m not going to follow her there. I don’t want to take the chance she’ll see me anywhere near her father’s place.

  She’s too smart not to realize there’s much more going on here than Vincenzo’s simple blackmail plot.

  Hell, she might actually figure out who I am by the time she returns to my home tomorrow night. She’s got a vested interest in knowing my name now.

  And when she does? Will she still be willing to fuck me to save her father?

  My jaw clenches and I want to punch something but since I can’t exactly walk up to Maloney and punch him in the face…

  No, Vincenzo set everything in motion exactly as I’d told him to and now I need to let this play out.

  But you already screwed up because you changed the damn plan when you told her to come back tomorrow night.

  And I don’t regret that one damn bit.

  Again, my mind conjures images from last night. At this rate, I’m going to have an erection all fucking day. My obsession with Olivia is growing and that’s dangerous. I can’t let it get out of hand. Can’t allow it to go that far.

  I’ll sate myself with her then I’ll move on. Her father will be destroyed. And after what Maloney took from my family, revenge will be sweet.

  And brutal. There’s no help for that. My grandmother’s death is on his head. Maloney deserves every bit of what’s coming.

  Olivia doesn’t. Neither does her sister.

  Fuck that. I knew going in there’d be collateral damage. And Olivia’s no saint. Her list of crimes goes back almost a decade.

  Maylyn…

  She’s the only innocent in this whole mess. When this is over, I’ll be sure she’s taken care of. A scholarship to finish school. A job with the right company.

  Maybe I’ll even tell Maloney who’ll be responsible for his daughter’s good fortune before Vincenzo takes him out. A final nail in his coffin.

  Olivia will either drag herself through this. Or she won’t.

  I won’t care. If Granddad taught me anything, it’s that I can’t let emotion rule my actions. It’s a sure way to get fucked. And not in a good way.

  Lust isn’t an emotion. It’s a bodily function. The need for sex is primal, like the need to eat and breathe. My desire to fuck Olivia means nothing other than I need to get laid and my body wants hers.

  So why the hell am I planning to make a detour on my way to the office? I’m usually good at ignoring shit I don’t want to deal with. Right now… My usual cool head isn’t prevailing. It’s the smaller head in my pants that’s running the show.

  Luckily, traffic sucks, as always, and I have to keep my attention on the road or risk getting sideswiped by a semi or rear-ended by a sedan.

  I’ve got a headache by the time I reach Fairmount Park and my temples throb with every car horn. I have the urge to throttle every other fucking driver in the city but when I finally reach my destination and park along the street, it’s quiet.

  This section of the neighborhood is blue-collar, with a couple of garages, including her brothers’, and a few warehouses and businesses.

  Not many people live here, and those who do don’t tend to hang on front porches and shoot the shit with their neighbors after work.

  Most of the residents in this neighborhood keep to themselves because they all have something to hide. Like Olivia and her brothers.

  Her dad and younger sister live a few blocks away, in a more residential area. Nice house but nothing fancy in a working-class neighborhood where people don’t have typical nine-to-five jobs. They come and go at all times.

  Perfect place for a criminal to hide in plain sight.

  I don’t see Olivia’s car outside her building, but she typically parks in the garage at the end of the street next to her brothers’ auto-body shop.

  She’s probably already inside and asleep.

  Which is where I should be. Home and asleep. But I do have work that needs to be done and I need a clear head to do it.

  I should get to the office. Instead, I sit here for the next half hour, watching traffic.

  Finally, a flash of black in the rearview catches my eye, and I see her walking up the street.

  She’s still wearing the
clothes she left my home in and hasn’t braided her hair. It blows around her face in inky black strands that make my fingers tighten around the steering wheel. I want to wrap that hair around my hand and pull her up against my body until there’s no space between us. I want her to look up at me with that hint of defiance and breathless anticipation.

  I want her to gasp when I push inside her, watch her try to hold back her reaction as I start to move.

  Fuck. I’m hard again and I have no one to blame but myself. I should’ve stayed the fuck away from her.

  Maybe I am obsessed. Maybe I should’ve ended this game last night. Should’ve sent her back to her father in tears, spirit broken.

  Instead, I’m thinking of all the things I want to do to her tomorrow night.

  I wonder if she’s thinking the same.

  She looks lost in thought, head down. Christ, she’s practically got a sign on her back that reads “Mug me.”

  Not that anyone would dare touch her if they know who she is. Her brothers would kill them.

  If they knew I’d fucked her, they’d probably cut off my balls and make me suffer before they put me out of my misery.

  I will not feel sorry for last night. Her father deserves exactly what’s coming to him. It’s just too bad for her that she’s the delivery method.

  Yeah, right. Last night was not only about revenge.

  Seconds later, she opens the door and disappears inside. Nothing more to see here.

  Except it takes me a full minute to turn the key and drive away.

  I head downtown. Squire Incorporated maintains offices in a Walnut Street high-rise owned by one of its many shell companies. JP Holdings may be written on the door, but the actual business that goes on behind the door has nothing to do with real estate.

  “Hello, Mr. Knight. I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to be here today, Ms. Rodriguez. Anything I need to know?”

  My personal assistant stands behind her desk, pushing a mass of brown curls over her shoulder as she reaches for a pile of papers. Everything else about Jeannie Rodriguez is perfectly pressed, from her straight black skirt to her white button-down shirt. Except for that hair. She can pull it back in a bun or a braid but it never fails to find a way to escape.

  It’s like part of her needs to be rebellious.

  “I was going to forward these to you later this morning, but since you’re here, you can look them over and let me know if there’s anything you need me to handle.”

  It’s a rhetorical question because something always needs attention. When you oversee an operation as large and diverse as this one, there’s always a crisis.

  Jeannie has been my personal assistant for five years and, in that time, she’s learned how to prioritize, how to tell what’s about to become a three-alarm fire and what can be passed on to the very few men I trust to handle high-level company business.

  Granddad never let anyone handle his business but as the company has grown, I’ve needed help and there are only four men in the world I trust to handle what I throw at them. And one woman, though she wants nothing to do with the business.

  I take the stack of papers from her hand. “Thank you. Let me know if anything else comes up.”

  “Are you going to be here for lunch?”

  “Yes.” And since I’m starving, I know exactly what I want. “Cheesesteaks.”

  Her lips quirk but she doesn’t allow herself to smile. “Geno’s or Pat’s?”

  I huff because this is a long-running battle. “You already know the answer to that.”

  She manages to roll her eyes respectfully. She’s been with me long enough to know what she can and can’t get away with. Her mother taught her well.

  “Yes, sir. Pat’s. Again. Do you need anything else right now? Coffee, maybe?”

  “Do I look like I need it?”

  She doesn’t answer my question specifically, which is an answer in itself.

  “I’ll bring you a cup before I get back to work.”

  Jeannie turns and walks out, closing the door behind her, and I turn to stare at the city spread out before me.

  I’d been born in Chicago, but after my mom dumped me on my dad’s doorstep when I was ten, my dad dumped me here with Granddad and went back to his legitimate family in New York City.

  Luckily, Granddad took me in, sent me to school, and eventually taught me how to run the company to prepare for the day he couldn’t.

  That day had come two years ago. My grandfather handed over control of Squire Incorporated and he’d made me promise not to let my father blow it all.

  Or to allow the man who’d tried to ruin it get away with the crime.

  Patrick Maloney needs to be taken care of. And now is the time.

  Chapter Three

  Olivia

  I drop into bed seconds after I get home from my dad’s and sleep for six solid hours.

  No dreams, no tossing or turning.

  I wake around five in the afternoon and head straight for the shower, where I stand for at least fifteen minutes, letting scalding water pour over my body. My body aches, especially my arms and calves, sore from the climb.

  My thighs…

  I shake my head, trying to get the images to dislodge. I have a feeling that’s going to take more than a hot soak.

  When I finally force myself out of the shower, I throw on boxer shorts and a tank top and head for the living area of my apartment.

  And stop with a huff when I see my brother Reese sprawled on my couch, watching TV.

  I can only see the back of his head, but I know it’s him and not Bryant because his hair is the same shade as Maylyn’s and not the red-tinged brown of Dad’s and Bryant’s.

  “Glad you made yourself comfortable.” I continue into the room, rubbing a towel over my still-wet hair. “Did you raid my fridge too?”

  Eyes glued to the TV, Reese lifts the bottle of flavored water and the sandwich in his hands high enough that I can see them over the couch.

  So that’s a yes.

  “How’d the job go last night?”

  He speaks through a mouthful of food and I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. Tossing my damp towel at his head, I ignore him and head for the kitchen. I need coffee if I’m going to have to deal with him.

  “Goddammit, brat. I just asked a question. No need to get pissy about it.”

  I’m not pissy. I just don’t want to have to talk to my older brother about last night. Even more than my dad and my sister, Reese sees what I don’t want him to.

  If he finds out about the deal I made, Aiden won’t just end up dead from a knife in the back, which is how Dad takes care of things.

  No, Reese would use that knife to cut off little bits of Aiden before he kills him.

  Reese is even more dangerous when it comes to my safety. Probably because he was the one who found me, starving and filthy, locked in my dead mother’s car while her body rotted after she’d OD’d.

  I would’ve been dead in another day if Reese and Bryant hadn’t discovered me while they were scavenging an abandoned warehouse where suburbanites met their dealers. They’d been hoping to find a few blissed users they could relieve of purses and wallets. At five and seven, Reese and Bryant had been experienced pickers.

  They hadn’t expected to find a dead addict and her toddler in a locked car in a dark, forgotten corner of the garage.

  I owe them my life. But I don’t owe them every damn second of the rest of my life.

  Finally, I have coffee in hand and feel ready to take on my brother. “What are you doing here? Dad said he was going to talk to you and Bryant about getting together tonight. Why are you here now?”

  He looks over his shoulder at me, eyebrows curved over pale blue eyes. “So now I need a reason to drop by?”

  No, he doesn’t. Reese and I are close, possibly closer than any of my other siblings. We’re a lot alike. And that usually means trouble for me because he knows me so well he can rea
d my mind.

  Sighing, I take a sip of coffee then let my eyes close in bliss. Caffeine. Finally.

  Reese waits patiently until I open my eyes. “Now spill it. What happened? Dad’s freaked and so’s Maylyn. The only reason Bryant’s not here is because I told him you’d be more likely to talk to me alone.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because it’s true.”

  I concede the point with an eye roll and take another sip of coffee. Maybe if I ignore him—

  “Talk, Olivia. Now.”

  Walking over to the couch, I sit beside Reese, handing over the coffee because I know he wants a sip. The whole reading of the mind goes both ways.

  Since I’ve had more time to think about what happened, I have an answer ready.

  “The guy knew I was coming. He was expecting me.”

  Reese has already talked to my dad so I know he has the information I passed along. But because this is Reese, and I’m dying to talk to someone about what happened, I want to tell him everything. Or almost everything. I just need to do it at my own pace.

  “And you still don’t know who he is?”

  “No but he told me his name is Aiden.”

  Reese’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean, he told you? When did he tell you his name?”

  See, this is why Reese is dangerous. He knows me too well.

  Yeah, and maybe you want him to dig.

  “Livvie?” Reese puts my coffee on the table and I sigh and lean over to grab the mug. “What the hell happened last night?”

  “I told you.” I avoid looking at him by taking another sip of coffee. “I think he knew I was coming.”

  “Did he say that?”

  I shake my head and force myself to meet his eyes. “No, but he was waiting for me to leave. He knew what I was there for. He knew how I’d gotten into the house.”

  “Jesus. Did you miss some piece of his security?”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t miss anything. I’m good and you know it.”

  His eyebrows rise. “Maybe you’re a little too cocky.”

 

‹ Prev