Olivia, Striking Back
Iron Ladies
Danielle Norman
Copyright © 2021 by Danielle Norman
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Contents
Prologue
1. Olivia
2. Rhys
3. Olivia
4. Olivia
5. Olivia
6. Olivia
7. Olivia
8. Olivia
9. Olivia
10. Rhys
11. Olivia
12. Rhys
13. Olivia
14. Olivia
15. Rhys
16. Olivia
17. Olivia
18. Olivia
19. Rhys
20. Olivia
21. Drake
22. Olivia
23. Olivia
24. Rhys
25. Rhys
26. Olivia
Epilogue
Sneak Peek—London, Is Falling
Find Me
Binge Read Me
Box Set Madness
Give Me My Audio!
A Word From Danielle
Meet Danielle
Also By Danielle
Special Thanks
Olivia, Striking Back
Olivia Vinning believed that all men were trouble. In fact, her career was dedicated to bringing lying, cheating, chauvinistic men to their knees.
When she spies Drake Bannon, her current client, she decides to get him to make a pass at her to end the case swiftly.
But what she doesn’t realize, her mark...is not Drake.
Rhys Bannon is nothing like his pompous, manipulative twin brother. He just needs to convince Olivia. There is something about her that keeps him up at night. He wants to show her that he is one of the good guys, so he volunteers to help bring Drake down.
This is dedicated to the bitch with my name in her mouth.
Do what you do best, and swallow it.
- Dani
When you can’t control what is happening, control the way you respond to what is happening.
—Unknown
Prologue
Olivia
Ten years ago…
“All right, Olivia. You’re up,” called out a brawny paintball player as he looked up from the clipboard and narrowed his eyes. “You sure this is the sport for you, honey?”
His lips curved into a smirk that made Olivia’s stomach squirm with annoyance. She stiffened her posture and stared him down.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” she asked coolly.
“I don’t know.” The guy laughed. “It just seems like maybe you’d be better off in cheer practice or some kind of campus bake sale. Didn’t peg you for the shooting competition type of person.”
She had no clue why people always followed up something condescending with a laugh. It reminded her of the kind of people who would preface something rude with a claim that they weren’t trying to be rude. It was patronizing.
Olivia grasped the paintball gun tightly.
“I’m ready,” she said and jutted her out chin defiantly. No matter what any member of the male species assumed about her, Olivia could handle a sidearm.
Ignoring the way the condescending guy watched her with a smirk on his face, she rolled her shoulders a few times and then approached the first target.
Shooting a paintball gun was nothing compared to the first gun she’d ever held. On her sixteenth birthday, Olivia’s father took her to the shooting range, despite her mother’s protests. Olivia could still hear her mother’s voice claiming that shooting wasn’t a ladylike activity. Of course, as always, it only took one sideways glance from her father to mute her mother’s protests. Olivia’s father had a violent streak. Though he was friendly enough in public, he was a force to be reckoned with behind closed doors. In the house, she and her mother walked on eggshells because anything could send him into a blind rage. Over time, they learned to anticipate what her father needed before he needed to ask. It was easier to bend over backward to meet his needs than it was to deal with the consequences of another temper tantrum.
Despite her father’s many flaws, the day he took her to the gun range was the greatest gift he ever gave her. He taught her how to shoot that day and was more patient than she’d ever seen him before. Shooting became the only thing that they had in common with each other. At least, Olivia hoped it was the only thing.
Facing the paintball target at the end of the range, Olivia inhaled slowly and focused all of her energy on it. She let out a long exhale, squeezed the trigger, and hit the target with ease. Dead center.
Olivia lowered the gun, a triumphant smile on her face.
“What were you saying about baking and cheerleading?” she asked the superior guy next to her, blinking with mock innocence.
“Whatever,” he replied with an eye roll. “Beginner’s luck.”
Olivia pursed her lips, but she didn’t allow herself to get irked by his attitude. She knew what she was capable of, and he would know soon enough, too.
He escorted her to the next target a few yards away.
“No pressure, sweetheart,” he sneered. It was a shame because had he not been such a pompous idiot, the guy would have been reasonably attractive. “We all get ahead of ourselves. Just focus and try not to let your womanly wiles work you into a nervous frenzy. The rest of the targets won’t be as easy as the first one.”
Olivia could hardly believe his audacity. Who the hell walked around actually saying things like this to strangers? Still, she was nowhere close to being worked into a womanly frenzy, so she merely fixed him with a glare. Not noticing her visible disdain, he gestured to the long line of targets ahead of them, the farthest being a hundred foot shot. Sure, the targets would be difficult—maybe even impossible—for the average shooter, but Olivia’s confidence remained strong.
“I’ll be fine,” Olivia said to him. “But thank you ever so much for the concern.” Of course, her sarcasm was lost on the jackass. He probably assumed that she was genuinely thankful for his words.
As she stood in position, Olivia went through the motions that she’d practice time and time again. At this point, it was like breathing. Despite her petite frame and soft features, she felt natural with a gun in her hands. The next target shook slightly as another splatter of paint burst against the center of it.
As they walked to the next target, the guy had nothing to offer but a wordless humph.
“No advice this time?” Olivia asked lightly.
He didn’t respond other than to nod at the next target, which was farther away and would be difficult for any skilled shooter to get a good shot at. Olivia was determined to knock that smug expression right off his face. She considered shooting him instead of the target to accomplish that, but violence wasn’t really her thing. It was her dad’s thing.
Forcing back
thoughts of her father, she raised the gun again. Her grip was as steady as a surgeon’s hand.
“Sometime today, baby,” the man taunted. She could sense the agitation in his tone. He was proud—he didn’t like to be proved wrong. Olivia glanced over her shoulder at him and raised an eyebrow.
“I have a name,” she said calmly. “It’s right there on the clipboard in your hand. If you can’t read, I can sound it out for you.”
The crowd of observers fell quiet, their attention captured by the tension. Olivia’s cheeks flushed. She was gutsy, but that didn’t mean she liked having a dozen pairs of eyes trained on her at once.
“Damn, calm down,” the guy said and chuckled, backtracking immediately to make her seem like she was overreacting to his rudeness. Olivia recognized it as a classic move of master manipulators. “Take a Midol and shoot the gun.”
Olivia turned away from him, figuring that her actions would speak louder than any words that she could throw at him. She raised the gun to her shoulder.
Once again, the paintball struck the center of the target. Cheers and applause erupted as Olivia beamed in triumph, twirling the gun with a flourish.
“Not bad,” he acquiesced. “But there’s still one more round.”
Olivia nodded, the anticipation of victory humming within her. She noticed her friends grinning from the front of the crowd, always there to encourage her no matter what. For example, even though Adeline was whispering something in the ear of a boy in a leather jacket, her eyes were on Olivia. She nodded subtly as she caught Olivia’s eye, letting her know that she believed in her abilities.
Everything had built up to this moment. Olivia wanted to win the competition. Not only because it was important to her but also to show that impudent guy that it was ill-advised to underestimate her just because she was a woman.
Olivia closed her eyes and concentrated on the cold steel against her fingers. She zoned in until she could no longer hear the impatient tapping of the guy’s foot or the whispers of the people around her.
The gun jerked in her hand as she released the last ball. It landed with sharp thud in the center of the target. The crowd cheered loudly, but the rumble of voices sounded like a distant echo as Olivia lowered the gun.
She turned, and her eyes immediately landed on the nameless man. He pursed his lips, appearing physically pained at her victory. Flicking the safety in place, she shoved the gun into his arms and winked.
“I think there might be a bake sale with your name on it.” Olivia smirked. Without waiting for his comeback, she strode past him to claim her medal and the hundred dollar gift card to the best restaurant in town.
“Holy shit, lady!” Adeline shouted, grinning as she jogged over to Olivia. Her tight blouse clung to her body in a way that had pretty much every man in the vicinity staring at her. “You showed him up. Ugh, what a douchebag.”
“Yeah, that was ridiculous,” Sunday chimed in beside Adeline. She tucked her long blonde hair up into a ponytail. “I hate when men talk to women like that.”
“Me too,” Melanie agreed, popping up between the two others. “Which is exactly why we’re forming the Iron Ladies, right?”
Olivia narrowed her eyes as the guy wrapped his arm around a girl on the other side of the room without invitation. The poor girl flinched, but she didn’t step away from him. A guy like that knew most women wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to smack him away and they took advantage of it. It turned Olivia’s stomach.
“Absolutely,” Olivia replied to her friend. “Someday, we’re going to be defending women from men just like him.”
Olivia
Olivia Vinning was not happy.
Firstly, she swore that her three best friends, who were also her business partners, had rigged the straws. Literally. Perhaps it was a bit elementary, but they always drew straws to determine which one of them would take the lead on a case, and this time, Olivia had drawn the short straw. Hence why she was currently sitting in the office of Dr. Bannon, an award-winning psychiatrist.
But Olivia wasn’t there for therapy. Rather, Dr. Bannon’s wife was their latest client, and this was all part of the job.
Olivia’s body tensed as the door opened without warning. An attractive man, tall in stature and subtly muscular, walked in with a chemically whitened smile.
“Hi, Olivia,” he said, taking long strides across the room toward her. “I’m Dr. Bannon, but you may call me Drake.”
Olivia stood and shook his hand, and her skin crawled when they made contact because she knew he was an abusive fraud who hid behind a charismatic persona.
“Hi, Doc—I mean, Drake,” Olivia replied, batting her eyelashes demurely. “Thank you so much for fitting me in. I’m really, really grateful.”
“Of course.” He chuckled and gave a lecherous smile. Olivia hoped that he was amused by her giddiness. “Have a seat. How about we begin by talking about why you decided to make an appointment with me in the first place? Tell me a little bit about yourself.”
Drake sat across from her in the cushioned chair. He had a clipboard in his hand, likely with Olivia’s information on it. For some reason, the image caused Olivia to think that there was something oddly familiar about him. But, no…that couldn’t be right. Olivia had no reason to believe that she met the psychiatrist before. It was probably just that she and the girls had been studying his social media profiles so thoroughly leading up to this moment.
“I’m not really sure,” Olivia said with a shrug. “I’m not sleeping very well, I guess. Um, but when I do sleep, I tend to startle awake. My heart pounds and beats really fast. It’s really troubling.”
She was lying, of course. However, she always did her research. She saw a video of a woman talking about her anxiety symptoms on social media just the other day and figured that it would be a good place to start when it came to pretending to being in need of psychiatric help.
“Okay.” Drake nodded thoughtfully. “Is there anything going on in your life that you think might be causing you distress?”
“Well, yeah…I used to share a house with my three best friends, but they all moved out. I’m home alone now. Maybe I’m a little anxious about being all by myself in a big house?”
Dr. Bannon shifted. “Yes, maybe. Do you think it’s possible that you might also feel left behind by them? Why did they move out?”
Olivia couldn’t believe that a trained psychiatrist would seed ideas like this. But, to his credit, Dr. Bannon did follow the appropriate script of a psychiatrist. For the briefest of seconds, she almost forgot that she wasn’t actually in the middle of a therapy session.
Olivia knew that the most convincing lie was one that stuck to the truth. She also knew that there was no real harm in using her friends’ names.
“Well, first, Adeline moved out when she met Riley. They’re married now. Then Sunday moved in with her boyfriend Bo, and now Melanie lives with her fiancé Keanen.”
Drake gave a condescending smile, as if Olivia said something amusing. “I understand you are passionate about this. Let’s slow down and analyze these feelings. I’m sure you are feeling abandoned. Maybe like, you will never find the one.”
Olivia frowned. She wasn’t feeling that way at all, she was happy for her friends. “I’m not upset, at all.”
“Calm down.” Dr. Bannon patted his hand in the air.
Olivia rolled her eyes, she knew that Dr. Bannon was trying to gaslight her, she wasn’t stupid.
Something about the way that he said calm down reminded her of someone. The tone of his voice, the arrogant look in his eyes, and the gentle smirk on his lips were just like that of someone who said that exact phrase to her a decade ago.
“Sorry,” Olivia forced herself to say, remembering that she was supposed to be meek.
As Olivia studied Drake, she realized with a jolt that he was definitely familiar. More familiar than a face she’d seen smiling at her from a social media account or informational webpage. She’d met him before. Years a
go…but she knew without a doubt that this man in front of her had crossed her path before. The memory ignited another spark of determination within her.
When she told the girls where they’d met Dr. Bannon before, they were going to be shocked.
Drake set the clipboard aside on the coffee table and folded his fingers together. “So all of your friends have found love and moved on to begin new lives with their partners. Interesting. Do you have a special someone in your life, too?”
Olivia understood what he was getting at. Despite his condescending tone, she forced herself to stick to character and stared down at her knees with a frown. “No, but I’m happy they all found love. I’m not jealous or anything.”
“Well, I’m not suggesting that if it is jealousy, it will eat away at you, it will keep you up at night. Rather, perhaps what is truly bothering you is that you want to feel loved, too.”
It wasn’t a question. He jumped through quite a few hoops to reach that end, but Olivia expected it. She learned from his wife that Drake was a traditional man. Plus, given the way their interaction a decade ago went, it seemed apparent that the man still hadn’t given up his belief that women were weak, pathetic creatures in need of a man to guide them through life.
Olivia, Striking Back (Iron Ladies Book 4) Page 1