And it’s about the only thing I do have control over.
“I’m getting the furniture back.”
Elizabeth was trying to keep up her tough façade, but I’d seen the cracks appear as soon as I’d steered the comments back to our first encounter. Her voice had lost its edge. Her eyes flickered uncertainly away from mine.
“I’ll only send it back again.”
“You can try to,” she said. “But it’s my professional opinion that you’re going to love the drawing room when it’s done, furniture and all. And I’ll make you see that.”
I moved my right hand to brush away a strand of coppery hair that had floated into Elizabeth’s face over the course of our fight. From an outsider’s view, it probably would have looked tender. And a large part of me wished it could be. I wanted to lower my face to hers and be done with all of this, with everything.
But there was too much at stake.
“Your opinion means nothing here,” I whispered.
Elizabeth’s lip trembled and a stab of guilt ripped into me. I lowered my hands, but couldn’t bring myself to back away from her.
“You’ve made your point,” she muttered.
She pushed past me and I let her leave. So many conflicting emotions roared through me. Anger, guilt… lust. My cock was throbbing uncomfortably in my pants even as my hands wanted to ball up into fists.
Motionless, I listened to the thud of her hurried footsteps against the hardwood, then the slam of the study door. Only then did I turn, slightly impressed by the force she managed to put behind her slam. The door was heavy. She must have been really upset.
What have I done?
17
Elizabeth
I couldn’t remember the last time I locked myself in a bathroom to cry. It was probably middle school, when Sharon Cartwright stole my boyfriend and told everyone I was a slut and had cheated on him with a bunch of other guys. Donny and I hadn’t even French kissed at the time, so the charges against me seemed all the more heinous and unfair. Especially to my thirteen-year-old mind. I locked myself in a stall in the girl’s washroom and cried until the end of third period, when my teacher finally sent someone out to investigate.
Unlike then, when my world had seemed to be ripped to pieces, my current self-imposed solitary confinement was far more complicated, if less explosive. I started off pacing, tossing angry looks at myself in the mirror and wishing my reflection was him.
The tears started to fall after a few minutes of that, because as much as I pretended I didn’t know why my encounter with Oliver had upset me so much, I couldn’t fool myself as easily as I once fooled my guidance counsellor.
I craved Oliver’s approval. For whatever reason, I really wanted his praise and acceptance, or, at the very least, I’d take him just not being an asshole. But instead he’d torn me down like an old poster.
The night we met, I’d felt a real connection to him. At the time I just blamed it on how attractive he was. The heat of the moment. But then I started to believe that there was more to it than that. That there was something better hidden under his tough surface. I was so sure of it.
Now I was beginning to have my doubts. Besides, even if there was something buried there, it may be too deep for me to dig out.
If tonight had taught me anything, it was that Oliver may not be the man I was hoping he’d be after all. And the sooner I got that through my head, the better. I couldn’t sit around, waiting for him to turn back into the patient, gentle guy from Repeat.
Someone softly knocked on the door, startling me.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I called, sniffling and wiping away my tears.
“It’s Todd.”
A sliver of disappointment crept into my mind. I tried to shake it off.
“Can you let me in?” he asked.
I sighed and weighed my options. I didn’t really want an audience for my breakdown, but what was I supposed to do? He was basically as much my boss as Oliver, and I was being childish hiding out in the bathroom for so long.
I walked over and unlocked the door, then retreated to take a seat on the side of the tub.
Todd relocked the door after coming in, shooting me a sad smile. “Hi.”
“I’m sorry about this,” I said, gesturing to my messy face. “I’m just kinda… I dunno. Having a bad day.”
He chuckled and crossed the room, seating himself opposite me on the closed toilet lid. “Bad day seems to be an understatement,” he replied. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you run from Oliver before, no matter how bad he’s gotten.”
“I feel like a failure,” I admitted. “I told you I could handle a tough client, but I’m not handling it at all.”
I wiped my nose on the back of my sleeve. Grimacing, Todd handed me a tissue. My embarrassment only worsened.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Todd said. “Oliver’s not in a good place right now. I should be apologizing to you for overestimating his ability to be civil.”
I wished I could say I couldn’t imagine Oliver ever being nice, but I didn’t have to imagine. I could remember. The slow dancing with me in the VIP lounge. Telling jokes to help me relax. The passion of our bodies together.
I remembered too much.
“Why is he like this?” I asked, desperate for the answer.
It was cheating, I know. I was only supposed to get that answer if I won the kitchen wager, but I was beginning to wonder if Oliver would even be honest about that. I wouldn’t be surprised if our whole fight was engineered just so he wouldn’t have to tell me what he really thought. If he liked it, he didn’t want to admit it and lose the bet. If he didn’t maybe he was worried about having to fire me halfway through the project. Bringing in a new designer would probably be more effort than it was worth.
“Oliver’s had a complicated life,” Todd explained. The lines of his brow deepened. “He lost his parents at a young age, and never really learned the rules of societal interaction as most people know them.”
“A complicated way of excusing his rudeness.” Plenty of people had a tough life and didn’t end up being an asshole.
Todd’s lip tilted a little. “Yes, he’s a bit rude,” he admitted. “He was raised by his grandfather—a man who would not be denied anything. He worked obsessively to build a business empire that spanned everything from real estate to retail. But I fear that didn’t leave him a lot of time to spend raising a young man.”
“Well then shouldn’t Oliver have learned from that?” I asked. “Surely if his grandfather was anything like Oliver is now, Oliver would know what it feels like to be around someone like him.”
Todd shrugged. “Life is complicated. People are complicated,” he said. “Oliver knows the kind of man he wants to be, but he’s having trouble getting there.”
“And where do you fit into all this?” I asked, sensing my opportunity. “Are you like his life coach? Spiritual advisor?”
“Oliver doesn’t need a life coach.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think there was a glint of amusement in Todd’s eye. “He just needs patience.”
“Patience,” I repeated numbly. “What do you mean? I somehow don’t think waiting for him to come around is going to help me finish the renovations on the mansion.”
Todd laughed, exposing a bright set of pearly whites. I didn’t think it was that funny.
“Despite how it looks, Oliver really does know right from wrong. Whatever he did to upset you, he’ll make amends sooner or later.”
Todd was the ultimate king of deflection. I was beginning to wonder if he was real or just a figment of my imagination. I wanted straight answers.
“What do you think I should do, Todd?” I prodded. “I trust you to be honest. Do you think I should quit?”
Todd shook his head. “Of course not. You shouldn’t leave until your work here is done.”
My work here is definitely not done.
“It was a pretty big fight,” I told him. “I’m not so certain he won
’t just fire me.”
“He won’t fire you,” Todd assured. “Did you even do anything wrong?”
The first response that came to me was no, but then I thought about it a little more. Did insubordination count?
“I think so.” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Things got a little personal. I should have been more professional about the couches. I could have handled it differently.”
“So you both made mistakes.” Todd slapped his hands on his thighs and rose. He wasn’t one to linger. “And you’ll both deal with those mistakes in your own ways.”
“I guess…” I furrowed my brow and glanced up at him. “Did you talk to Oliver already? Is that how you knew to find me?”
“No. As I said, I saw you run out of his study. It wasn’t hard to figure out that something had happened.”
“Do you think it’s safe to go talk to him now?”
He shrugged and walked toward the door, unlocking the handle and pulling it open partway.
“Only one way to find out.”
He closed the door behind him, plunging me back into the silence of my own thoughts.
I rose quickly, wanting to get this apology over with before I lost my nerve. I needed to put my personal feelings behind me. Being rejected sucked, and I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to the knowledge that the man I saw on a day-to-day basis didn’t care for me in the same way the man I’d met at Repeat had seemed to. Pretended to.
He was my employer now. It didn’t matter.
The study door was closed when I approached it. I knocked, pressing my ear close to listen for a reply. Nothing. I knocked again. Still nothing.
Oh god. Not this again.
Biting my lip, I rested my hand on the handle and turned it. The door creaked open, but I stuck only my head in.
The room was empty.
“Oliver?” I called.
No answer. Though I didn’t know where I’d thought he would be hiding. It was a big room, but wasn’t exactly equipped with any man-sized wardrobes or anything.
I closed the door and went in search of him elsewhere, starting first in the library. Maybe he went to check in on the workers. My heart leaped.
Maybe he went to look for me.
But when I reached the bustling chamber, I failed to spot his towering height or dark head of hair.
“Rodney!” I called across the room.
My burly friend shot up from where he’d been bent over next to one of the tables, overlooking the building plan. He smiled and strode toward me. “What can I do ya for?”
“I’m looking for Oliver,” I said. “Have you seen him?”
He lowered his voice. “You mean has the prince deigned to visit us commoners today? Nay.”
I cursed under my breath. Rodney’s bright blue eyes filled with concern.
“What’s he done now?” he asked. His expression hardened. “I’ll kill him. You know I will.”
I laughed uneasily. “Actually, we both kind of did something. I need to apologize.”
“You don’t ever need to apologize to him. Not after the way he’s treated you.”
My heart filled with warmth at Rodney’s concern, but he was wrong. I did need to apologize. Maybe Rodney wouldn’t have, and I wouldn’t have held it against him either, but I knew that I wouldn’t feel right until I did. Oliver was my boss, after all. I had to remember that and stop letting my personal issues cloud my judgement and attitude when dealing with him.
“Thanks Rodney,” I said. “I still need to find him, though. But if I’m not back here in an hour, then you can kill him.”
“Right-o.” Rodney saluted me off, turning to re-enter the chaos of the library. I wanted to be there when they took the wall down. I had a feeling it would be quite cathartic.
Todd found me before I thought to go looking for him. I was standing in the kitchen, hands planted on the cool countertop. He emerged from the hall with a gentle smile.
“I talked to Oliver,” he said.
“You did?”
“He’s going to be out for the rest of the day.”
I wrinkled my nose. The only thing worse than apologizing? Waiting to apologize.
“Thanks, Todd,” I replied. “I guess I’ll get him tomorrow.”
Well, at least I’d have all the time in the world to spend in the library. I couldn’t wait to pick up a sledgehammer and break something.
18
Elizabeth
I spent all day thinking about Oliver. Hearing what Todd had to say about his parents and grandfather just made me more curious about him, not less like I’d hoped. Despite my initial cold feelings brought on by anger, I actually did feel bad for Oliver.
I never thought I’d see the day when I’d feel bad for a billionaire, but I’d grown up with two loving parents and couldn’t imagine losing them when I was young.
When I got home, I told Cressida about the fight. She agreed with Rodney.
“Apologize for what? I don’t understand why you always feel the need to balance the scales,” she said, shoving a donut hole in her mouth. “Especially not when they’re already balanced. Or, in this case, still tipping on his side.”
“Two wrongs don’t make a right,” I replied.
She rolled her eyes. “You sound like my freaking mother.”
“Good,” I said, smiling cheekily. “Mrs. Milton is a sharp lady.”
Cressida shot me a look, raising her hand as she got up and went to the kitchen. “Wine,” she announced. “We need wine.”
Cress fixed everything with wine. And food. Though never more than a glass or two, unless the situation was truly dire. Or truly celebratory. She came from a big Italian family where every event was treated like a big occasion. Going over for dinner was always a little overwhelming.
“I just don’t get it,” I called to her. “Oliver disappeared after our fight without another word. That’s not like him.”
She returned holding two medium sized glasses of red, handing me one and sliding back next to me on the couch.
“What’s not to get?” she asked. “He didn’t want to deal with you, so he bailed. Sounds like a typical man to me.”
I popped a donut hole in my mouth and chewed. “It’s more than that, though,” I said, words slightly muffled by the dough. “I’d already left him alone, it wasn’t like he had to escape me. That man barely ever leaves that room.”
She eyed me over her wine, full lips pressed together. “I have a feeling you already have a theory in mind for why he left,” she said.
“It’s dumb.” I took a big swig, wincing at the acidic taste. “I’m no expert on the inner workings of Oliver Bentley, but we’ve been working together for some time now.”
“And?” Cress prompted.
“And he doesn’t leave just to avoid a confrontation. He’ll never admit it, but I think he loves to argue and fight. I probably wouldn’t have a job right now if he didn’t.”
“So you think he left because…?” She frowned. “I’m still not getting it. ‘Splain.”
“I think he felt bad,” I posed.
Cressida broke down into laughter. Wine sloshed dangerously in her glass as she sunk back into the cushions, howling away. I scowled at her.
“You think King Douche feels bad because he hurt your feelings?” she asked. “People don’t suddenly grow consciences, babe.”
“I told you it sounded dumb.”
“It is dumb.”
“Okay, well it’s the only thing that makes sense to me.”
“Really? Maybe he had an errand. Maybe he was hungry and went out for pizza. Why are you reading so much in…” Cressida trailed off as she studied me, taking another sip of wine. She blinked a few times, then pursed her lips and shot me an accusatory look.
“You like him!” she announced, pointing a sugary finger at me.
“No I don’t!” I scrambled back away from my friend, as if it would help me escape her realization.
“Elizabeth Barbara Pauls
on,” she enunciated. “You could make excuses for Satan himself if you had a crush on him.”
Her eyes were narrowed and focused on me. I dropped my gaze meekly.
“I haven’t picked out matching tombstones or anything, but I will admit I am attracted to him. Maybe it’s more just that I’m curious…”
She shook her head. “Oh no you don’t,” she said. “You’ve imprinted on him like a sad baby duckling. Or like that guy you met in freshman year who used to call you by the wrong name during sex.”
“He had a good personality!” I defended. “And I’m still not convinced it was his fault.”
“Elizabeth is one of the most common names there is!” she returned. “The damn queen is named Elizabeth. How was it fair that I had to listen to him moan the name ‘Lisa’ through the wall?”
“I think maybe it was just a short form. You know… Elizabeth… Eliza… Liza… Lisa… I mean, it’s possible. Anyway, he also used to spend his Sundays handing out sandwiches to homeless youth, so I didn’t think he was that bad. At least at first… And need I remind you that as soon as he started to check in on me like a creepy stalker, I was out of there.”
We entered into a staring match, both of us refusing to budge an inch. I took another sip of my wine unhurriedly, showing her that I could be here for a while. I’d faced tougher foes than her.
I’d faced Oliver Bentley.
“Liz,” she said after a while, voice soft. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I won’t,” I said.
“You already have though,” she pointed out. Her eyes swept over me, as if assessing the damage. “Just be careful. Remember Phillip.”
“Patrick,” I corrected.
“What?”
“The guy who called me the wrong name was Patrick.”
She grinned evilly and winked. “I know.”
I tried to take Cressida’s concern to heart, but I still felt like I had to apologize to Oliver. Whether he left because he felt bad or not, I still felt bad. The next morning, I started looking for him as soon as I got to the mansion.
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