Mr. Big

by Delancey Stewart

  This beautiful girl was tough and ferocious, and as smart as anyone I’d ever met. In fact, I realized as I twirled a long lock of her dark hair around my finger, she reminded me of Adam. That biting wit, her sharp intellect, and her ability to see things others didn’t. Not to mention her passion for Cody Tech. Adam had been that way, too—insightful and kind.

  I realized I’d just had the first purely pleasant memory of Adam I’d had since finding out about my adoption. Of course as soon as I realized it, the darkness and anger pressed in on me again. It was almost a habit now, being angry. But with my beautiful duchess in my arms, I didn’t want to be angry. I didn’t want to hurt anymore. I wanted to focus on her, on making her smile the way she did when she fell apart in my arms during sex. I wanted to make her laugh, to see those crystal eyes dance. When Holland laughed—really laughed—she did it unself-consciously, like a little kid. Her head back, her mouth wide and her eyes squinted up.

  I squeezed Holland gently, tightening the arm draped over her middle, and dropped a line of kisses along the back of her neck. She smelled incredible, and for a long moment, I kept my face pressed against her sleeping form. She smelled like citrus and salt, and like sex.

  I kissed her once more and then slipped out of bed, pulling on a pair of boxers. My cock was still hopeful, but it would just have to wait. We had work today, and I wanted to make Holland breakfast first.

  In the kitchen I brewed coffee and made omelets with avocado, tomato, and cheese.

  As the smells wafted down the hallway, I heard Holland stirring between my bedroom and the bathroom, and a surge of something I can only deem joy washed through me. The house had been so empty for so long. The master bedroom at the end of the hall was practically a mausoleum, holding whatever secrets my parents had left there before they had died that day. I still couldn’t go in there. Having Holland here with me, though, made me feel less empty than I had in months. The house felt warm and full. And, I realized with something like shock, so did my heart.

  I stood over the pan of bacon I was frying and stared out the back windows over the pool for a long moment, prodding at the feelings that had grown in me so quickly.

  I’d vowed not to need anyone else. Ever.

  But as I heard Holland’s feet moving toward me through the house, slipping softly against the tile, I realized I needed her. I’d let my guard down and let her inside, and stranger than that—I was happy about it.

  “Morning, duchess,” I said, turning to watch her approach.

  She threw a shy smile at me. Her hair was pulled back into a long ponytail and a tank top and shorts were pulled over her curves. She sniffed the air and her eyes widened. “Oh my God, I’m starving. Coffee? Bacon? I think I’m in heaven.” She came to me and planted a kiss on my chest as I flipped bacon, turning to embrace her with my free arm.

  Stepping back, she glanced around. “This is amazing, Oliver, but I do have to get to work today. Big new job and all,” she said.

  “We’ll eat, and then we’ll go.”

  She bobbed her head and poured herself a cup of coffee, carrying it to the long wall of windows in the sunken living room. “This house is incredible,” she said. “And the pool, too.” She turned and grinned at me with a raised eyebrow.

  “I have a new appreciation for the pool myself,” I said. My entire body felt light this morning, playful even. I hadn’t felt this way in as long as I could remember. Even before the accident. I piled omelets and bacon high on the plates and sat down at the island.

  “How long did your family live here? Did you grow up in this house?” She walked back toward me and settled herself at the island in front of her plate.

  I shook my head. This wouldn’t have been my topic of choice, but I felt so buoyant, I doubted even talking about my almost-parents could bring me down. “Adam and Sonja started out in a tiny house down in Cerritos,” I told her. “We moved here when Adam sold his first company. I was in junior high school.”

  Holland sipped her coffee and was quiet. Something about her attention made me want to talk, even though this was a subject I usually avoided.

  “My dad used to run a small investment firm,” I told her. “Adam did.” I corrected myself quickly and a whisper of sadness passed across Holland’s face. “It was what gave him the idea to build a company around my idea to measure stroke speed when I was swimming. We built the first device for me, because I wanted to be better. But he had a business mind. He was the one who saw what it could become, and how much value there was in the kind of data we could generate.” Talking about Adam took me back to those first excited discussions about StrokeStat, his eyes wide and dancing over the dinner table when I’d come home during college. Twin emotions battled within me—sadness and a warm pleasure.

  “What did your mom do?” Holland asked.

  “Sonja was a teacher,” I said, still hesitant to allow my parents back into their comfortable places as simply Mom and Dad. “She taught elementary school. She loved kids…” I trailed off, remembering her bringing home all the cards and letters at the end of each year. “They loved her, too.”

  Holland smiled at me, and though I saw sadness in her gaze, there was none of the unwanted pity I got from so many other people when they asked me about my parents. One more thing to adore about this girl. “We’d better get ready for work, duchess. If we don’t go soon, I’m going to want to take you out for another swim.” I flashed her a grin and carried our empty plates to the kitchen.

  —

  I didn’t see much of Holland at the office the next couple days, but I sent a car for her at eight each night, and she was at my house by nine.

  “I could get used to this,” I told her as we lay in my bed after making love, drifting toward sleep.

  “Me, too,” she said, her voice groggy.

  I held her in my arms, my face buried in her hair, and believed I might actually be happy. For the first time in months, I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t hurt, I wasn’t afraid. I was just happy.

  I didn’t see Holland at work at all Wednesday, but around five o’clock I called down to her office. “You interested in working on your stroke again this evening?”

  “Who is this, please?” she joked.

  “You know damned well,” I said with mock ferocity.

  “I’m interested in working on your stroke.”

  My dick stirred and I felt my heart accelerate. This girl. She did things to me. “That can be arranged. We’ll stop by your place and get a few things. You might as well get everything you’ll need for the rest of the week.” It was getting ridiculous sending the car each night.

  “I want to, but I can’t, Oliver. I have plans tonight.”

  An irrational anger crept through me and I pushed it away. Of course she had plans. This was a girl I’d just met. She had a life before she met me, I couldn’t expect her suddenly to put it aside. “Of course,” I managed.

  She laughed. She must’ve picked up on the difficult way the words had come out. “Not those kind of plans. Dinner with Delia. Want to come?”

  I thought for a brief second. Meeting her sister—her family—felt like a big step. A good step. “Yes. Are you sure that’s okay?”

  “Definitely,” she said. “But I’m gonna need another hour here. Things are a little crazy. I think Trey is punishing me for being promoted. He’s piled proposals on me.”

  “Glad to hear our sales team is working so hard. Meet you downstairs at six?”

  “Six is good. See you then.”

  I tried to work for the next hour, but I was distracted by how suddenly the jealousy had hit me when Holland had mentioned other plans. I spent the time stewing over just how vulnerable I’d suddenly let myself become. Had I let this go too fast? Even as I had the thought, I couldn’t imagine pulling back, going back to the way things were, to the darkness and loneliness of my life. I let myself stare out the window for the better part of the hour and felt relief wash over me when it was almost six o’clock. I stepped from
my office, surprised to see Pamela still at her desk.

  “Good night, Pamela,” I said, flashing her a smile.

  Her eyes widened in surprise and then she smiled, shaking her head.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” she said, gathering some papers together on her desk. “It’s just nice to see you smiling again. If I had to guess, I’d put money on a woman being involved somehow.” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Never place bets without data, Pamela. Working here should have taught you that much.”

  “I’ve got data,” she said mysteriously. “Have a good night, Oliver.”

  I stared at her for one more second and then turned to go. Pamela was good people. Something about her told me she was strong in a crisis, and that she knew more about the inner workings of Cody Tech than she’d ever let on.

  I went down to the lobby to wait for Holland and found myself standing in front of the photos again, Adam’s smile beaming down from the photograph I’d asked Pamela to remove. It still bothered me, seeing him there, knowing that when that photo had been taken, he’d been keeping a secret so critical and big it had the power to redefine everything I knew about myself. It was different looking up at him this time, though. For a long time I couldn’t look at the photo at all. Then I’d managed to glare at it, raw fury rising in my chest each time I’d passed. Now I felt mostly sadness. I missed the man who had shaped my life, the man I’d believed to be my father. And while the pain of missing him was like a barrage of soft blows to my heart now, and still painful—the searing anger was missing, and it was a relief to have it dissipating. I stared up at Adam until Holland found me there and smiled at me, tapping me on the shoulder and nodding toward the front door.

  —

  “So,” I said as Holland and I buckled into my car to head to her sister’s house. “What exactly did you tell Delia about me?”

  “That you’re a huge asshole, mostly.”

  “So she’s eager to meet me, then.”

  “Of course.” Holland grinned at me and laid her head back against the seat as I eased the car out of the parking garage. “Actually, I told her I felt like maybe I was losing my mind.”

  “What?”

  Holland’s voice got low and husky, and she leaned in as she said, “I told her I didn’t know what was happening between us. That I can’t stop thinking about you. That it’s the worst possible time in my life to meet someone so…distracting…” She dropped a nervous laugh then as I put a hand on her thigh.

  “What did she say to that?” I asked, glancing at her for a second as I drove.

  “She said she wanted to meet you so she could figure out if Carl needed to pound you into the pavement or not.”

  “Carl?” I said, not sure what to make of this.

  “Delia’s husband.”

  “I see. Is Carl a large man?”

  She nodded. “You’ll see.” She delivered this with a grin and then reached a hand into my lap. Her nimble fingers were unfastening my belt, and she was leaning in. Images of what she had in mind began to fly through my head as I merged onto the freeway, and it took everything I had to ask her to stop. She looked up, disappointed.

  “I can’t show up to meet your sister all rumpled and sexed up,” I said.

  “It won’t be messy,” she said, her voice a low purr. “I’ll swallow.”

  My dick was iron hard already and it practically leapt toward her when she said that. A noise between a groan and a curse escaped my lips at the thought. “No, seriously.” I tried to shove my dick to the side, but it was standing at full attention now. I could only hope I’d be able to think it down over what was left of the drive. “You,” I told her. “Back in your seat. And be good.”

  She pouted for a second, but I could see the smile in her eyes. “Later, then.”

  “You can count on it,” I told her, and then I forced my mind back to the postal service. So many letters and packages. I tried to think about conveyor belts and those blue shorts the delivery people wore in the summertime.

  Chapter 18

  Holland

  When we arrived at Delia’s house, Carl greeted us at the door, Olivia in his arms. Today the tiny girl of my heart wore a lab coat and a pair of plastic horn-rimmed glasses, with a tiara perched in her curly black hair.

  “Come in,” Carl boomed, standing back.

  “Carl, this is Oliver Cody,” I said, introducing them and watching with something that felt like pride as Carl gave Oliver a once-over and shook his hand.

  Oliver presented well. He wore a pair of dark flat-front trousers and a checked button-down shirt with a rich blue tie. I was learning that this was Oliver’s dressed-down office attire. When he had a meeting, he wore a suit, and having toured his closet—which hung in another bedroom at his house in a set of rolling wardrobe racks since he refused to use the master bedroom and its walk-in closets—he had plenty to choose from. His hair was tousled and soft, and his beard had been trimmed neatly, revealing the jaw that sent my knees shaking if I spent too much time admiring it. “This is a beautiful home,” Oliver said, his voice finding a sensitive spot inside me and stroking it.

  “Thanks,” Carl said, and then he presented Olivia. “This is our youngest, Olivia,” he added.

  Olivia ducked her head and hid her face against Carl’s shoulder as Oliver greeted her. “I see you are a scientist princess,” he said.

  A tiny fierce voice came from beneath all the curly hair. “Queen. Not pwincess.”

  “Of course. Apologies, your majesty,” Oliver said, laughing.

  We went inside, and the scent of something rich and delicious met my senses. My stomach growled, and I realized I was hungry. Delia came in from the back, looking regal and amazing in a flowing maxi dress with a bright floral print that set off her dark skin. Her hair formed a wild mane around her face and something about it was intimidating, as if she’d teased it out bigger than normal to appear more imposing. It was also possible she just hadn’t had it trimmed in a while.

  “Hey,” she said, crossing the room to pull me into a crushing hug.

  “Hey,” I said, laughing. “You’re smashing me!”

  “I’ve been worried about you,” she said, pulling back and giving me a critical once-over. Before she could add anything else on that topic she turned to Oliver with a huge smile. “Hello there,” she said, something in her voice more clinical than friendly.

  Oliver took it in stride. “Hi, Delia. Thank you so much for including me in your dinner. I know it’s difficult to share Holland.” He cast a glance my way and a delicious shiver shot through me.

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you,” she said. Her voice hadn’t warmed, and I recognized a bit of the tough girl act she used to pull when we were younger. Protective, fierce, and loyal, Delia was always looking out for me.

  Gigi was in the kitchen again, avoiding the hellos until we stepped in to deposit the bottle of wine we’d brought. I had forgotten entirely, but when Oliver met me downstairs at Cody Tech, it had magically been in his hands. He must have a stockpile at the office somewhere.

  “Are you Holland’s boyfriend?” Gigi asked him, and I felt my face go red.

  Oliver laughed, a low rolling sound that conveyed no embarrassment. “I’d like to be, Gigi.” He turned to me. “Holland, will you be my girlfriend?”

  “You’re supposed to get down on one knee for this,” Gigi instructed, stepping nearer and pointing at Oliver with a wooden spoon.

  His eyebrows shot up and Oliver took a step forward, getting ready to kneel, when Delia put a stop to it. “There will be no proposals of any kind in my kitchen. Gigi, stop telling everyone what to do!” She took Oliver’s arm and walked him out toward the yard, handing him a drink. “That child, I swear…”

  Gigi eyed me as they left the kitchen. “So he’s not your boyfriend.”

  I shrugged. “He might be,” I told her.

  “He likes you,” she told me, her little head nodding solemnly. “You should ju
st get married.”

  “Things are pretty complicated,” I said. “How old are you now, eighteen? Nineteen? You’ll understand soon.”

  “Holland, I’m still six.” Gigi rolled her eyes at me and we followed the others outside.

  “Wait, you’re Delia Summers?” Oliver was saying, sounding incredulous. “The Olympic runner?” I’d forgotten to mention that to him.

  Delia was basking in his admiration, and I watched them talk about the Beijing Olympics in which Delia had competed. Oliver’s admiration and knowledge of her sport went a long way toward breaking down any defenses she’d prepared against him.

  The evening went well, and the conversation stayed light and casual until Delia and I went back to read to the girls. When we’d finished, she pulled me into her bedroom and started the inquisition. “So?”

  “Gonna need a more specific question, Deel.” I sat on her bed, and she stood in front of me, arms crossed.

  “So what’s going on? Oliver is great. I can see how much you like him…and of course…”

  “What?”

  She nodded. “He’s in love with you, you know.”

  I felt my eyes widen, but a secret place in my heart warmed at her assessment. “We haven’t known each other long enough for that.”

  “Love doesn’t always take time,” she said. “I can see it when he looks at you, Holl. It’s nice. You deserve it.”

  Staring at her, I felt a smile take over my face. “I care a lot about him,” I said.

  “But…?” she prompted.

  “But what?”

  “I can hear a but coming. Spit it out, girl.”

  I searched my mind. Delia often seemed to know what I was thinking before I did. Under her watchful scrutiny I felt something click in my mind, a glimmer of light that shone on a scrap of something I’d been ignoring. Something I didn’t want to consider. “I care about him,” I repeated. “But I feel like a fraud. What if the only reason I got this promotion was because of Oliver?”