Mr. Big

by Delancey Stewart

  “Let’s get together this afternoon. I’ll lay out the MLB plan for you, get you feeling comfortable with it…”

  Rob nodded and went to the door. He was halfway out before he turned back and actually smiled. “It’s good to have you back, man.”

  It was good to be back. Even without Adam, maybe especially without Adam, I knew this was where I belonged now. I was still figuring out everything else in my life, but at Cody Technology I knew what needed to be done. Adam’s absence was painful, but maybe it was actually a good thing. I missed something that had never been true, a man who lied to me my entire life and made me feel worthless enough that I’d had to run to the other side of the world to find my own value.

  “Pamela.” I buzzed the desk outside through the intercom.

  “Yes, sir?” Her voice was professional and brisk, and I couldn’t help the smile that lifted my lips when I heard it. I stood and walked around the desk, opening my office door.

  “It feels weird to talk through the intercom when you’re right here,” I said.

  Pamela smiled, but Rob’s secretary stared with wide eyes and practically cringed when I walked out of my office.

  “Get all the photos of Adam Cody taken out of the lobbies of the buildings, please.”

  Her eyes widened and her eyebrows rose. Then her features cleared and she rose from her desk. “A word?” she suggested, pointing back into my office.

  I raised an eyebrow at her but waved her into my office, where she stood and faced me behind the closed door.

  “I won’t do that, sir.”

  “Call me Oliver.”

  “Oliver. I won’t take the pictures down.”

  “I think you will.” I liked Pamela, but I didn’t like this, and my voice was icier than I’d meant it to be.

  “Adam Cody cofounded this company. In honor of his memory, the least we can do is keep his picture up as a reminder of his contributions and his legacy.”

  “Adam Cody was a fraud.”

  She crossed her arms. “I won’t do it without a valid reason.”

  “I could fire you,” I reminded her, though she knew I had no intention of doing so. “I could ask someone else. Rob’s secretary would just follow orders. Maybe I need a new secretary.”

  “You told me you wanted a right hand. And here I am. Your father—”

  “He was not my father,” I interrupted, my mood darkening considerably.

  She took a step forward and looked up at me, her eyes blazing. “Adam Cody raised you. He fed you, he clothed you, he sent you to school every day and paid your medical bills. I didn’t live in your house, so I don’t know, but I’m going to take a wild guess that maybe he and Sonja held you when you cried, told you stories at bedtime, and kissed you good night. They probably calmed you when you were scared and taught you how to be a strong, capable leader. They instilled enough confidence in you—arrogance, maybe—to stand here today and order me to erase their memories. And I’m not going to do it.” Then in a softer voice she added, “I knew him, too, Oliver. For a long time.”

  “It isn’t your call,” I said in a whisper, trying to push down the memories her words had brought surging back. My mother bending over me to kiss my forehead, my father teaching me to swim.

  “Adam Cody was good to people here,” she said, her voice even and low. “You were not the only one to whom he acted as a father.”

  I felt my eyes widen slightly as I wondered what the hell she was talking about. Her eyes had welled up and her face had reddened. There was something she wasn’t telling me.

  “Fine. I’ll take care of it later,” I told her.

  With a curt nod, she spun on her heel and left my office. And I sat down to think about what kind of man Adam Cody really was, the fury inside me draining until all I felt was the simmering sadness that had lived in me for the last few months. I still hated him.

  But God, I missed him.

  —

  That afternoon I had just sat down with Rob when Pamela buzzed. “Holland O’Dell is hoping to speak with you?”

  I tried to stop the wild grin from dashing across my face, and turned my head from the table so Rob wouldn’t see it. I’d asked Holland to pop up, but hadn’t expected her yet. I’d hoped to lay the groundwork first. “Send her in. Thanks, Pamela.”

  A moment later, Holland walked through the door, and I stood up from the small round table where I’d been sitting across from Rob. I wished I knew what exactly it was about that girl, but the second I saw her, it was like every cell in my body vibrated. My dick twitched and my blood heated, and now—after what had transpired on her desk earlier this week or the stolen kisses I’d managed in the days that followed—I couldn’t stop the images that flitted through my mind. And those did nothing to help me regain control of myself. I waved Holland in and introduced her to Rob, but what I wanted to do was wave him out and nail her against the office door.

  She wore a slim black pencil skirt and a soft blue blouse that showed her curves but still managed to be completely professional. Her hair was hanging in loose waves around her face, over her shoulders, just brushing the tops of her breasts. And those bright blue eyes were sharp and clear, and focused on my face as her perfect pink lips moved.

  “Earth to Oliver,” she said, in a voice that told me she’d probably said something else that I’d completely missed because I’d been busy letting my mind wander over her generous curves.

  “Right,” I said quickly, straightening my tie and gesturing to a chair next to Rob. “Let’s give Rob a quick rundown of the presentation we made to MLB, get him up to speed.”

  Holland nodded, her eyes on my face. “I brought my laptop. I can pull up the presentation.”

  “Sure,” I agreed.

  Rob’s eyes hadn’t left Holland since she’d walked into the room, and I began to feel my blood heat for a totally different reason. Rob’s focus on her was complete. Whatever Holland had that pulled me to her, Rob felt it, too. And I didn’t like that at all.

  “Do you mind if I stand?” Holland asked. “It’s easier for me to focus if I can walk a little.”

  “By all means,” Rob said, his smile just a touch too wide.

  Holland began her presentation, just hitting the high points this time, not getting into the weeds as we’d done before. To my surprise, she didn’t stop and signal me to discuss the tech application. She repeated the presentation I’d given, almost word for word. There wasn’t a single point where I needed to correct or clarify. If I had thought Holland O’Dell was amazing before, now I was floored. The woman was incredible, and I felt a surge of something that felt oddly like pride. As if she was mine to be proud of.

  Rob asked a few questions, and when Holland finished, they were discussing the application in glowing tones, but I couldn’t focus on the words. My eyes were on Holland, but my thoughts were swirling around the revelation I’d had while she spoke. I wanted her. But not just in my bed. I wanted her to be mine, and that was a completely new sensation. I’d had relationships before—mostly because I had felt like being exclusive was the next natural step along the dating and fucking continuum. But I’d never been too serious about anyone, even Celia. She’d been part of the package I’d been handed—never something I’d decided I wanted. And after everything that had happened in the last year, I had told myself I would never let anyone close. Loving people…well, that just set you up, didn’t it? If you loved someone enough, you gave them all the power. The power to control you, to own you…the power to hurt you. I had thought I was too smart for that. I’d been wrong. I had chosen Holland; I just hadn’t realized how much I’d meant it when I said it to her in the bar.

  I sat there, watching Holland’s face light up as she discussed the applications of her idea, as she told Rob about the people at MLB, how they’d received our presentation. I sat there and realized I’d already lost the power and given it all to her, in only a week. If anyone had told me it would happen this way, I probably would have walked away, mutt
ering curses under my breath about the impossibility of the idea.

  The way I saw it now, I had two choices: go all in, or get all the way out. As I watched the way Holland’s perfect pink tongue darted out to lick her lips as she glanced at me, I realized I’d never be strong enough for the latter. I was in.

  Chapter 16

  Holland

  Oliver barely spoke while we met with the CFO, whom I’d previously known only from the photo on our organizational chart. I glanced at him to see if he was going to jump up to handle the tech portion of the presentation as he had on Monday, but he had a dazed look in his dark, stormy eyes. He rested his jaw in one hand, his index finger absently rubbing across his bottom lip in a way that had me taking deep breaths in an effort to steady my voice. He came out of it slightly when I finished, but kept throwing dark looks my way, making me wonder if he was angry at me, if I’d said something I shouldn’t have during the presentation. If he was mad about that, he could shove it. He’d had every opportunity to jump in, and instead he’d just sat there looking like he was in a trance.

  When Rob had thanked me, and then stood and left the office, I closed the door instead of walking through it. “What the hell?” I asked him as I turned around. I spun to find him only inches from me, that same darkness burning in his eyes as he moved in close and pushed me roughly back against the door, his hands at my waist. We hadn’t spent much time together this week—I’d worked late getting acclimated to my new responsibilities and he’d been getting back up to speed, too. There’d been a few quick kisses, but no more desktop interludes, and the tension between us was palpable.

  Before I could ask another question, Oliver’s mouth was on mine, and his body was pressed up against me, pinning me to the solid wood door behind me. This kiss wasn’t gentle and soft, it didn’t ask permission. It felt like he was staking a claim, as if he sought to possess me, to own me with his rough mouth, his forceful tongue. If anyone had asked me, I would certainly have said I’d never want to be possessed by anyone. But the way Oliver’s mouth insisted my lips open to him. The way his tongue plunged between my lips, and the way his body completely covered mine as he took away my breath and my ability to move or speak—those things had me rethinking what I really wanted.

  When one of his big hands pulled my blouse from my waistband, the hot palm sliding up my ribs and pushing away the wire cup of my bra to palm my breast, I couldn’t help the surprised cry that burst from my lips.

  “Quiet,” he growled, certainly thinking of Pamela, just feet away behind the door. He pulled his mouth away and ran his hand down the side of my face, the look in his eyes feral and searching. He held my jaw for a moment, the heat in his gaze searing my blood and making my heart beat faster, and then he rubbed his thumb across my bottom lip before tugging it down. I couldn’t help letting my tongue dart out to taste the tip of his thumb, and as soon as I did, his hips jerked against me and he let out a guttural curse under his breath. I tasted him again, and he pushed the thumb between my lips as he ground against my hip. I sucked on his thumb, my eyes never leaving his, even though there was something in his gaze I didn’t fully understand. As I sucked and licked his thumb, I couldn’t help grinding against the strong hard thigh he’d pushed between my legs, and I let my eyes slide shut for a brief moment as I enjoyed the sensations rocketing through me. I might have been able to come just from the friction and the intensity of his eyes and the pressure of his fingers on my nipple, but he stepped away abruptly.

  “Not here,” he said, straightening his trousers and turning away as though nothing had happened.

  “Here seemed okay earlier this week,” I reminded him, stepping up behind him to wrap my arms around his waist and press my breasts into the firm broad muscle of his back. I let one hand slide down his chest and then pushed it below his waistband, cupping his rigid cock with my hand.

  “Come to my house,” he said, pulling my hand away and stepping out of my reach. “I’ll send a car for you. Go home and get your things. Spend the night.”

  I thought about that. I wanted it, I wanted to spend the night in Oliver’s arms, to let myself be carried away by the incredible things that had already happened this week, to lose myself in this moment. But I wasn’t sure it was the best thing. “I don’t know,” I told him. “So much has happened, it might be good to get some distance. Some perspective. And Oliver…” His eyebrows rose as I said his name, the almost black eyes still smoldering. “You’re my boss.”

  He shook his head, ignoring me. “I’ll send a car at eight.”

  “It isn’t nice to tell people what to do like that,” I told him, my resolve quickly fading. It wasn’t nice, but it was hot as hell.

  “Please,” he added with a sarcastic smile. And then he bowed forward slightly, as if he was going to tell me a secret. “I have a lot of avocados at my house, duchess.”

  I laughed. “Then I guess I’ll see you there.” It felt a little like giving in, but when I thought of going home to my empty apartment it seemed like it would be a poor way to celebrate a really important week. Spending the night with Oliver was what I wanted. Even if it wasn’t the right thing.

  —

  I stepped out of Oliver’s office to find Pamela’s eyes on me, a question on her lips. “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey, you,” I said, stepping around to face her. “How are you? I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you in a while.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. How’s the new job going?”

  “Good,” I said, my voice revealing my discomfort. I was getting used to the idea of my promotion, but I still felt defensive when it seemed linked to Oliver, and having my lipstick undoubtedly smeared as I slid out of his office probably didn’t help with my argument that I’d been promoted on my own merits. “Thanks.” I looked away.

  “Hey,” she said, her tone pulling my gaze to hers. “Everything okay? You need to talk?”

  I shrugged. I did need to talk. I was tempted to invite her out, tell her everything and see what she thought. Pamela was smart and capable, and I valued her opinion. But I also worried that I’d lose her respect, and maybe even her friendship if I revealed what was going on between her boss and me. Between my boss and me. “I’m okay,” I said, covering with a smile. “But let’s definitely get lunch soon, okay?”

  She nodded and I went back out to the elevator, got my stuff together and headed home.

  —

  At eight, a Town Car pulled up outside my apartment building, and a man in a dark suit buzzed my apartment. I watched him pull up from the front window and marveled a bit at the fact that Oliver had a car and driver at all. The funny thing, I decided, was that I hadn’t met Oliver Cody, really. At first I’d met Hale, and if someone had told me he was the CEO of one of the most successful companies in the country I would have laughed hysterically. I was actually thankful for having gotten to know Hale first. Oliver would have been far too intimidating.

  As I slid past the open door and relaxed against the leather, I wondered how many people Oliver had met in his life who were more interested in who he was from a business or financial standpoint than who he was as a man. I didn’t know him well, but I knew he was sweet and funny, thoughtful and vulnerable at times. I knew he had been hurt, that he’d spent months nursing that wound. And I knew that for some reason, meeting me had been part of what helped pull him back to stand in the daylight, to walk among the living again.

  Ingram, Oliver’s driver, turned out to be South African and had an accent I would have liked to hear more of. He was a quiet man who told me he’d worked for the Cody family for more than a decade. He drove me north on the 405, pulling off—somewhat unbelievably—at Mulholland Drive, where as far as I was concerned only movie stars, models, and directors lived. But Ingram wound up the hills and through the narrow tree-lined streets until he pulled to a stop before a long brick fence, grown over with greenery. He turned in, pulled up to a broad iron gate and typed in a code to make the gate swing inward.r />
  We stepped from the car into a front courtyard filled with flowers and trees. Roses lined the fence, but they were in need of pruning, and weeds sprang up in many of the beds, the neglect evident even in the sparse glow of the lanterns lining the path to the door.

  Ingram walked me in, and I felt strange entering this expansive rambling ranch house with no sign of Oliver around. The front entrance soared in Spanish tile and stuccoed archways, and inside the huge wooden door a wrought-iron chandelier glowed overhead. Oliver’s voice echoed down the wide hallway to my right, but he wasn’t greeting me. It sounded as if he was on the phone, maybe angry. Staccato bursts of conversation hit my ears and caused my muscles to tense as I stood and looked around me.

  “I’ll leave your bag here, ma’am.” Ingram dropped my overnight bag just inside the front door. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything?”

  I followed Ingram to a long low bar perched on a raised step overlooking a sunken living room that featured a wall of windows to the back, where a glittering blue swimming pool spanned the length of the yard. “Wow,” I said to Ingram. “What an incredible pool.” Steam was rising from the water, and the entire length of it glowed.

  “Heated,” he said with a wink.

  In the center of the stretch of granite-topped bar sat a bright blue bowl completely filled with rough-skinned avocados. I couldn’t help the smile that overtook my lips. “Thank you,” I said, sitting and reaching out to pick up an avocado.

  Ingram smiled at me and disappeared. I heard the front door close after a minute, and assumed I was alone with Oliver, who still hadn’t shown himself.

  After a few minutes of sitting, I grew impatient and decided to explore. I prowled through the rooms at the front of the house, investigating a space that was both elegant and livable. It was a showplace, filled with dazzling art, shining glass baubles and impressive furniture, but it also felt like a home. As my eyes fell on a family portrait—Oliver standing next to Adam Cody and a lovely woman who sat in a chair and smiled at the camera with a bright hopeful smile—I realized this was a family home. Without any confirmation but the photo, I understood that this was where Oliver had spent at least part of his youth. This was his parents’ home.