by Kendall Ryan
Noah’s eyes fly open wide and his face flushes crimson. Instinctively I shy back; I’ve never seen him so angry.
Mistaking his fury for astonishment, Brad continues. “Oh, you haven’t found that out yet? But maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. She’s always been such a frigid—”
In a flash, Noah has Brad pinned to the wall, his arm twisted behind his back. And all I can do is gape, paralyzed with shock.
Chapter Seventeen
Noah
This is the douche who broke Olivia’s heart in college? Without thinking, I jump into action, twisting the prick’s arm behind his back and slamming him into the wall.
He lets out a helpless grunt and huffs, “What the hell? Did you not hear who I am?”
“I know exactly who you are. You’re the pencil-dick Olivia invested years in, only to discover what a selfish child you really are.”
He tugs against the hold I have on him. Nope, you’re not going anywhere, bud.
“Now apologize to her, with a promise that you’ll never say anything like that again, and I’ll think about letting you go.”
“Like hell,” he growls.
“Rosita,” I call out. She’s passing by with her cart filled with deliveries. “Call security.” She nods once and scurries away. I twist Bradford’s arm tighter, higher up behind his back, then lean in good and close. “I said apologize.”
He blows out a deep sigh, his voice taut with pain. “I’m sorry, all right?”
When Olivia turns up her nose, I shake my head at the poor schmuck. “You should know better than to fuck with such a powerful woman.”
Two uniformed security guards appear in an instant. “Remove this asshole from the property,” I tell them.
They flank Bradford and escort him back to the elevator. I brace myself for another insult hurled over his shoulder; there’s no way he’s going down without a fight.
Right on cue, Bradford turns to face us before entering the elevator. “When I own this company, I’ll be the one calling the shots, and neither of you will ever work in this town again,” he shouts, spitting the words like venom.
I straighten my posture and pull Olivia in close to my side. “You won’t be coming into my building and insulting my girl like that ever again. Get him out of here before I permanently remove his option of ever having children.”
Moments later, the elevator doors slide closed, and Olivia sags against my side in relief.
“Are you okay?” I turn to face her, running my hands in a soothing motion up and down her arms.
She nods once, her lips pulled into a tight line.
I lean down and press my lips to hers, needing to erase that pout.
“He’s gone, baby,” I murmur, stroking her hair.
She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “He’s such a massive A-hole,” she mutters, shaking her head. “What did I ever see in him?”
Her tone drips angry contempt but I can hear the quiver underneath. Brad must have really rattled her. I clench my teeth. Maybe I shouldn’t have let that fucker get away unscathed after all.
“I won’t let him come near you again. That’s a promise.”
She nods. “Thank you, Noah.”
We’re both quiet for a moment, as if neither of us is quite ready to part ways and get back to work. Olivia gazes up at me with relief, gratitude . . . and something more? There’s a new light in her eyes. A look she’s never given me before.
“Not that I need you to defend my honor, but . . .” She gives me a small smile. “I’m glad you did.”
Pride and protectiveness swell in my chest. I try to brush it off by joking. “Hey, no problem. His face was begging for a punch anyway.”
She pats me on the chest, and I turn to head down the hall toward my office.
“Noah?”
That one word stops me in my tracks. Her voice is soft, almost shy, yet brimming with emotion. I’ve never heard Olivia talk so . . . I don’t know the word. Tenderly? Whatever it is, it floats me up like a boat on a rising tide.
“Yes?” I turn to face her.
Her face is awash in enlightenment as if she’s just been struck by a thought. “I think I’m ready.”
Did I hear her right? I almost don’t dare to hope. “You mean . . . ?”
She nods, biting back the first hint of a grin.
My heart surges. “Then let’s fucking do this.”
She beams at me as if we’re both on the inside of a private joke. And maybe we are.
“Let’s freaking get married,” she says with a giggle.
Chapter Eighteen
Olivia
I squint at the clock on my nightstand and suppress a groan. Three in the goddamn morning and I’m still wide awake.
The sheets rustle behind me. “Can’t sleep?” Noah asks. His voice is clear, not groggy at all. Evidently I’m not the only one with insomnia.
Sighing, I shake my head.
“Come here,” he says gently.
I roll over to look at him. Noah is lying on his side, facing me. He holds out his top arm. I hesitate for a moment; I’m still getting used to casual contact with him. But soon I wriggle into his warm embrace, pillowing my head on his bicep.
He pulls me even closer with an arm around my shoulders. I inhale his masculine scent, no less pleasant and exciting for how familiar it’s become, and try not to notice how perfectly I fit nestled in against his side.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
“A little nervous,” I confess.
Noah gives a quiet hum of a chuckle. “I wouldn’t blame you. It’s normal to have a few pre-wedding jitters.”
The word wedding sits oddly in my stomach. Despite all the thought I’ve put into the idea of marriage over the past month, it feels totally different when it’s on the horizon. In less than sixteen hours, I won’t be single anymore. I’ll be someone’s wife.
I’ve always imagined myself getting married someday. But in that fantasy, my father would walk me down a wide church aisle, the pews decorated with peonies, as my elated friends and extended family looked on. My husband would be a man who loved me so deeply that he couldn’t stand to live a single day without me.
But the reality of my life is nothing like that sweet story. Instead, I bear the pressure of a legally binding contract, followed by a long, hard battle to keep Tate & Cane out of enemy hands.
The circumstances definitely leave a lot to be desired. My feelings about the groom himself, though . . . those are way more ambiguous.
Things between us used to be simple. Noah was just a plain old pain in my ass. An acquaintance at best; a rival or a pest at worst. His devil-may-care attitude still infuriates me sometimes. And I hate the way he knows exactly how handsome he is, and shamelessly uses his good looks to get what he wants. Although what I really hate may be the fact that his charm works on me too, whether I like it or not. No matter how hard I try, I’ve never been able to completely bury my huge crush on him.
Lately, though, everything is changing. We’re well on the road to becoming friends now. And seeing him leap to my defense against Brad gave me undeniable butterflies.
Noah has lived up to my challenge and convinced me that a relationship between us is possible. Not right away, and not without effort—this isn’t a fairy tale where we snap our fingers and live happily ever after—but if we keep trying in good faith . . .
I’m even starting to wonder if my feelings for him when I was a teenager weren’t totally unfounded. Maybe my younger self was on to something. Maybe she wasn’t just horny—okay, horniness was definitely a factor, but still. She sensed a passionate, fiercely kind heart beating underneath his playboy facade. I’ve learned that just because Noah doesn’t take everything seriously doesn’t mean he doesn’t take anything seriously. His priorities and strategies are different from mine, not necessarily better or worse.
A dozen different emotions swirl through me, some good, some bad. But even though Noah asked me, I’m reluctant to rev
eal them all. Because I don’t want to show vulnerability . . . or because I don’t want to hurt his feelings? I’m not sure.
Eventually, unable to decide how to reply, I just murmur into his chest, “It’s still kind of surreal to me, you know?”
“Yeah.” Noah gives me a reassuring squeeze . . . and presses his lips to my forehead.
I blink at his feather-soft kiss. The unexpected tenderness just muddles my feelings more.
Oblivious to my confusion, Noah lies on his back, drawing my arm around his waist. I try to push my distracting, troubling thoughts away and relax into him. I cuddle closer, pushing my head onto his chest and resting my leg over his. He’s so warm, like lying next to a fireplace.
The steady beat of his heart beneath my ear soothes me to sleep.
Chapter Nineteen
Noah
As far as the media’s concerned, a couple of our status should have a wedding with glitz and swagger, but Olivia decided she felt most comfortable having our ceremony at her father’s beach house on Nantucket. It’s a purely legal wedding. No fanfare, just a handful of family and close friends. Even the beach house itself is a quaint place, with just two bedrooms, an open-plan kitchen and living space, and a wide porch looking out onto the beach.
That stretch of beach is where we’ll tie the proverbial knot in about an hour. Drinking beer in the kitchen with Sterling, I watch seagulls land on the folding chairs we set up earlier, scaring a few tiny crabs back into their holes.
This whole affair is the polar opposite of what Camryn told me about Olivia’s scrapbook wedding. And I don’t know how to feel about that. Did Olivia just want to keep things convenient and cheap? She is the practical type, and she’s been tearing her hair out over Tate & Cane’s expenses recently.
Or is she trying to preserve her romantic dream by keeping her reality as far away from it as possible? I’m not sure I like that idea, considering I’m part of her reality . . .
“Another beer?” Sterling asks.
“I better not.” I glance at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. “Fifty-eight minutes till I say I do.”
My best man smirks. “You think she’s actually going to go through with it?”
“You don’t?”
He shrugs. “She locked herself in her room two hours ago and hasn’t been out since. I offered her breakfast this morning, and she said she was too uneasy to eat. I don’t know, mate. It’s entirely possible that she’ll back out.”
“The contract’s all drawn up. We’ll sign it on Monday when we’re back at the office. Why back out now? Olivia’s a woman of her word. She’s dependable like that.”
He lets out a grunt of disapproval.
“What’s the big deal? You took a fake date to prom,” I remind him.
I chuckle to myself, remembering the year Sterling took his cousin to the dance. He thought it was genius at the time—no corsage to buy, no need to impress her with a fancy restaurant or limo ride. Until the end of the night, when all the rest of us were enjoying some skin-to-skin contact with our dates, and he realized what a horrible decision he’d made. The only skin-to-skin action he got was with his hand.
“A fake wife is a hell of a lot different. It’s a big fucking deal.” Sterling glares at me over the rim of his beer.
Looking out over the ocean from our spot on the porch of the beach cottage, I loosen my tie, which has grown too tight around my neck, and level him with a dark stare.
“Actually, it’s legally binding, so she’ll be my real wife. Until we got divorced, or got the marriage annulled or whatever.”
I clear my throat, my unease growing. “Oh, one more thing.”
After Olivia’s father presented the contract to us this morning over breakfast, I took a copy with me out to the porch while Olivia retreated to the bedroom. I didn’t view it as a bad sign, just that we were both taking this seriously and needed a moment to absorb it.
With a cup of coffee, I read the contract in full detail. Page fourteen, section twenty-eight, part B stated that the fulfillment of our contractual obligations as new owners of the multi-billion-dollar conglomerate was also contingent on Olivia getting pregnant. Within ninety days.
I stormed inside to talk to Fred immediately.
“An heir clause? Is this your sick way of ensuring the family name carries on? You actually expect me to knock her up?”
“It’s part of your father’s will, Noah. Bill and I both wanted a grandchild before we died. Surely you can understand that.”
“And what has Olivia said about that?” I asked him.
He made a noncommittal noise in his throat. “We haven’t discussed it yet.”
That was this morning. And I’m pretty sure that’s the reason Olivia locked herself inside her bedroom and hasn’t been seen since.
Taking a deep sigh, I watch my best man carefully as I drop my news. “I need to knock her up.”
Sterling spits out his drink.
“There’s an heir clause in the contract,” I say dryly.
Wiping beer from his lips, he narrows his eyes on mine. “You’re telling me you need to impregnate her?”
“Uh-huh.”
The fucker actually laughs at me, then takes another sip of his beer. “If I know the first thing about Olivia, it’s that she’s not going to want your bun in her oven.”
“O, ye of little faith.” I smirk at him.
“Has she even touched your cock yet?”
Aside from grabbing it through my slacks once at the restaurant, no. But that doesn’t mean anything. We’re building on something good here. It’s only a matter of time.
“Don’t be an ass.”
I stand up and cross the porch to the railing, leaning on it as I look out on the endless pool of blue lapping at the shoreline. I may be putting on a cool and unaffected front about all of this, but in fact, I’ve been losing my shit ever since I learned about the clause in the contract this morning. I can only imagine how Olivia feels. I don’t even know if she wants to be a mother. Probably not, seeing as she eats, sleeps, and breathes her career.
“You’re good, buddy, I’ll give you that, but even you won’t be able to pull this one off.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Watching the water is hypnotic. It makes me feel slightly calmer. But only slightly. I’d probably need horse tranquilizers to get anywhere close to a normal heart rate.
“And what about you? The reigning party animal is seriously going to have a baby?”
I turn back to face Sterling. He’s kicked back in a weather-beaten rocker on the porch, one leg hooked over the arm of it. With no good answer for him, I just give him a cocky wink.
“I’ll figure it out.” I hope.
His mouth drops open for a second. Then he throws up his hands in a dramatic shrug. “It’s your life, mate.”
“I’ll take my chances. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check on my bride.”
I knock on the closed door of the bedroom Olivia set up in and hear the two feminine voices inside hush.
“Yes?” Camryn opens the door just a crack.
“Can I have a minute with Olivia?” I ask.
Camryn’s brow furrows. “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony.”
“It’s okay,” Olivia says from inside.
“Fine. You can talk with her for five minutes.” Camryn glancing at her watch and then skirts around me into the hall.
When I push open the door, I find Olivia seated at a vanity, and our reflections meet in the mirror. Her eyes are rimmed in red, and I wonder if she’s been crying.
Guilt stabs at my chest and I suddenly feel short of breath. “Are you okay?”
I can’t believe how much my relationship with Olivia has grown, how real my feelings have become. The thought of her so upset feels like a physical shove.
She nods. “I think so. Today’s been strangely emotional. All these things I haven’t thought about in a while, like my mom not being here, m
y dad’s health . . . it all hit me this morning.”
“Come here.”
I pull her to her feet and into my arms. As I bring her close to my chest, her hands settle on my back. I hold her for several minutes, neither of us speaking. When I let her go, Olivia looks more composed. I wonder how she feels about the heir clause—wonder if she’s on board, indifferent, or terrified. I’m guessing the latter.
“I’m okay. I promise.” She gives me a small smile.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her, meaning every word.
She looks down at her simple cream-colored sundress with lace trimming the bust, and smooths it over her hips. “Thank you.” Her honey-colored hair flows in loose waves over her shoulders, and her makeup is light and natural. She looks like the perfect casual beach bride, fit to grace the cover of one of those bridal magazines.
“Are you sure you aren’t going to regret this?” I ask, the moment taking a turn for the serious. I probably won’t love her answer, but I still want to know her honest feelings.
She shakes her head. “All I’ve ever wanted is to run this company. My dad’s been grooming me for this moment for fifteen years.”
I nod, understanding perfectly. We’re in the same position.
“And if I have to do it with you by my side, so be it.”
Olivia thrusts her chin up in the air, and I’m again struck by guilt. She’s putting on a brave front, but I need to know she’s okay. Otherwise, I’m not sure I can go through with this.
“I need to know if you’re really okay doing things this way. Doesn’t every girl dream about a white dress and a big party under a tent?” I know for a fact that Olivia does. But I don’t mention that; she may not have wanted Camryn to tell me something so personal.
She gives me a sympathetic look. “We’ll make it work.”
“It might not be the wedding you envisioned, but I want you to know that it is to me. I really would take care of you if anything bad happened. I know what we have isn’t love, and that you deserve to be loved and cherished by your husband, but I need you to know I’ll always step up and be there for you. So in that sense, my vows will all be true.”