To Catch a Thief

by Nana Malone

  Remember what happened the last time you thought you were certain you’d seen Max? You can’t afford for that to happen again. Your mind is playing tricks.

  I needed to get ahold of myself. I had not just seen Max Wexler in the crowd. Max was only in my brain because Ollie was. Max fucking Wexler. Pure toxicity wrapped in a beautiful package. When I had talked to my shrink about it, I talked about all the reasons why I'd made a perfect victim for Max. How desperate I was for love and attention, desperate for someone to see me. And Max had seen me. Unfortunately, he'd seen exactly what I needed and wanted, and he’d pretended to give it to me.

  Guys like him were poison. He had been like that to me. And like a fool, I had fallen for everything.

  I had to stop. He was only on my mind because I'd kissed Ollie, again. I had to instill that in my mind so as to never lose track of reality.

  I tried to remind myself of all the reasons why Ollie Wexler was a problem for me. A mere kiss from him brought up images of Max. Of days gone past that I was pretty sure I was well over. It had taken me three long years to get over the damage. The fact that he'd used me as a shield. When I'd been arrested that night, my whole world had come crashing down. That night had changed everything in my family. My father had always been an asshole. Always. From the moment I came out of the womb, full asshole. Like some kind of tripwire had been triggered.

  When my aunt had to come and bail me out, my father had lost his shit. He was so horrified that his only daughter, his legacy, was caught up in something so seedy and horrible. He hadn't one thought even to ask if I'd actually done what they'd said. He'd thrown money at the problem to avoid a scandal, but he hadn't believed in me. He had assumed that what the police were saying was right. I had spent a very terrifying three days in jail. Thanks to my father I'd learned early on not to talk to cops. The standard lawyer-speak.

  When my lawyer had finally shown up, he'd given me the same advice. 'Don't talk to anyone, unless you're in front of me.' And even then, he'd given me bad advice. He’d advised me to confess everything I knew and throw Max under the bus. I’d have been more than happy to do that if only I had known anything. But after three days, the charges were miraculously dropped, just like that. And in those three days, I'd told them everything I knew about the Wexler brothers, what little it was, about who they were and what they'd done. Mostly Max. And I'd learned that I'd been their mark.

  I hadn't believed any of it, of course, because I was thick-headed, stubborn, all those things. God, I should have believed it. I'd held out hope that Ollie was going to call, Facetime me, email me… something. But that had been a false hope. Because he hadn't called. Not once. No letter, no smoke signal, nothing. And I wasn't hard to find either. I'd been humiliated. He’d crushed my feelings like it was nothing. I had fallen for the bad boys, one with the charm, the other pretending he had a heart.

  Obviously, the police let me go because they had no evidence. At least that’s what my lawyer had said. But the Wexlers had left me to burn on my own. And that's what I had to hold on to now, what I had to remember.

  Through the crowd, I searched and finally found Miriam. "There you are."

  "Hey, I have just met Alex. He also works for the London Lords. You didn't tell me the blokes at London Lords were so sexy."

  I lifted a brow then eyed Alex. "Oh, yes, you work for Ben, right?"

  He nodded. "Yeah, I think I've seen you around. You’re the one working with my mate, right?"

  I frowned. "Wait, by mate, do you mean, Oliver?"

  He grinned, and boyish charm lit up his whole face. "Yeah, Ollie. Look at you just claiming him. He did mention your spectacular kind of wit. I think I'm half in love with you already."

  "Ah, so you’ve talked about me, have you?"

  Alex laughed. "Yeah, you could say that. You have captured our boy’s attention."

  "Well, it's unintentional, I assure you. I wish I didn't have his attention."

  Alex just laughed. "Oh yes, he is a special brand."

  "Yeah, one I would rather not acquire."

  Miriam frowned. "Ugh God, the way you're talking, I feel left out. Do I need to meet this Oliver?"

  I rolled my eyes. "Trust me, he’s not much to write home about.”

  Except for when he kisses. The way his hands had tightened and released on my hips, God, it was just the perfect silent signal of wanting and needing someone. It was such an unconscious signal and it was still taunting me.

  Nope. Stop it. You will not think of Ollie Wexler like that.

  "Can you guys excuse me? I thought I saw someone in the crowd."

  I went looking for Norena Mullins but couldn't find her, and instead, I saw that figure again. I weaved my way through the crowd, trying to locate him, but still, no luck.

  You're chasing a ghost. That was your old life. This is your new life. As long as you stay away from Ollie Wexler, you'll be just fine.

  I had to remember that. Ollie Wexler was the devil. And my little ghost chase was the reminder I needed. Getting tangled up with him was going to bring up too many memories. Memories I didn't need. I'd reformed my life and I didn't want the old one back. It was in my best interest to stay the fuck away from Ollie Wexler.

  Eleven

  Oliver

  I had been careless.

  I knew it long before Olivia caught us in our little war. Somewhere between the coffee from hell and the gummy dicks, we’d gone too far.

  You mean you went too far.

  Fair enough. I knew that the moment I’d engaged Rian. I should have stopped antagonizing her a week ago. But every single time she challenged me, I had to meet her, blow for blow. It was like a compulsive need. She did something, I had to return the favor. I could not help myself. And then I had gotten reprimanded by my bloody boss at a time when I could not afford that. I’d fucked up. I was going to have to work harder to prove myself.

  The fact that I had to be kicked in the teeth to learn the lesson was irritating. Had nothing changed? All I could do was fix it. After all, Olivia had gone a lot easier on us than she needed to, so it was an opportunity to change it. From now on, as much as it galled, I was at least going to pretend to be on Team Rian. I had to. Before the Elite initiation, I needed to keep my nose clean. No mistakes. So whether I liked it or not, Rian and I were going to work together. One side of my house was not in order, but it would be.

  Olivia was right, we couldn't keep going on as we were. It was damaging. Destructive. Distracting. But I'd deal with that later. Currently, I had another distracting thing to deal with. Tessa. We hadn't really spoken after the whole fiasco with Max. When I called my sister, the phone rang, which I saw as a positive note that it didn't go straight to voicemail as it had in the last few days when I had tried to call her.

  When she answered, her voice was cool. "Ollie?"

  "Tessa, I see you do know how to answer your phone."

  She paused for a beat. "Yeah, I do. I'm not sure why I would though."

  I sighed. "Tessa, try to understand. I may not have said all the right things, but I am looking out for you." Way to win her over.

  "What do you want, Ollie?"

  "Well, I would very much like to talk to you."

  "I don't think we have anything to say to each other right now."

  "Look, I know you're ticked off. All right, I get it. I fucked up. But remember, everything I said was for your own good because I love you and I'm your brother."

  "Ollie, I just wanted a nice lunch, and then you just ruined it."

  "I know. I know. And I should have just kept my mouth shut and talked to you later, but you were pressing me, and I was left with no options, love."

  "Whatever."

  "No, not whatever, Tessa. I know he's your brother and you love him, and you want to see the best in him, right? I wish I could too. I just can't, knowing him like I do."

  "Ollie, the past informs what we do, sure, I get it. I'm not a complete idiot. It's just sometimes the past isn't exactly who we
are anymore. Who we were is not who we are. Sometimes we get to shed that and become different people, and I just wish you’d give Max that opportunity."

  I sighed. "I've dealt with his shit for a lot longer than you have, Tessa. I know that you want to believe him. And he wouldn't even mean to hurt you, but it’ll still happen."

  "Look, Ollie, if you’d just give him half a chance and listen to his pitch…"

  She was stubborn. “I'm clearly not going to change your mind, and maybe I shouldn't. But what I will tell you is this; if he hasn't pushed any of your friends, pushed you to ask any of them to get involved, I'll stop. But think about this; if he's been asking for you to get more friends in on this, then maybe I'm right."

  "He's just excited, Ollie."

  "And I hear you. I'm just asking you to think about it. If you stopped asking your friends to get involved, how would he react? Then how would you feel?"

  She paused. "You're wrong."

  "I hope I am, Tessa. I hope I am."

  Rian

  There was one rule for tonight. Play nice. And I just wasn't sure how much longer I could do it. After our admonition from Olivia, and then what happened at the Kensington party… Jesus. I’d let him kiss me. We’d made out like a couple of teenagers. What was wrong with me? I knew this was how Oliver worked. He would unsettle me, make me nervous.

  The hateful stares he shot my way now were incredibly familiar. It's how he’d looked at me for months when I'd been dating Max. And then, his hot lips, making it seem like he wanted me, like I was the only person on the planet.

  And then silence. Pretending he didn't know me, cycle complete.

  And I was the idiot who kept falling for it.

  Why did you let him kiss you?

  I didn't let him kiss me. He kissed me. Oh goddamn it. I was arguing with myself, and I could see the problem with that. But I was helpless to stop myself. I knew I was being crazy. I knew it.

  But still, Ollie was coming over tonight, and we were going to make peace. We were also going to review the plans for the Kensington soft opening in Monaco. I wanted to make sure I had everything covered from vendors to budget. Budget worried me the most because it was what Lila Kensington was worried about. Which would eventually trickle up to her father, even though he wanted old-world glam. I was aware there was a budget. And I was aware the two of them weren’t necessarily on the same page, so I needed to cater to both of them.

  When he knocked on my door, I jogged to peer through the peephole and then opened it. "Hey."

  He gave me a head nod, and I saw he had a couple of bottles of wine and a brown paper bag in his arms. "What's all that?"

  He inhaled and then sighed. "Well, the wine is so that perhaps we don't kill each other, and the cookies are an apology."

  I lifted my eyebrows. "What?"

  "Can I come in? Kind of a pain to talk out here."

  I stepped back, letting him in.

  He nodded and then froze when he stepped inside. "Oh, nice flat."

  "It's just company housing, you know that."

  "Yeah, but you decorated it, right?"

  "Yeah. I unpacked some things from home. I just made a quick chicken parmesan. Nothing fancy."

  His nose twitched. "Smells fancy."

  "If you could open the wine, that would be great."

  But he was too busy walking along my walls. "Rian, these are beautiful. You haven’t lost your touch."

  He was currently standing in front of one of my portraits. It was of two sisters at the beach, and they were throwing sand at each other and howling with laughter. It was one of my favorites. The light had been just perfect. Their little Afros bouncing as they ran and shook the sand out. Their mother wouldn't be pleased, but God, they were having the best time.

  "Um, thanks. Been a minute since I picked up a camera though. Dinner's ready, files are over there, but I figured we'd eat first and then get to work."

  He nodded and brought the wine over to the kitchen counter. "I forgot how good you were."

  I tried to tamp down that flush of pleasure. "Yeah well, everyone needs a hobby, right?"

  He was silent for a moment and then licked his bottom lip. "You and I both know you're better than a hobbyist."

  I shrugged. "Well, it's hard to get paid as a photographer, isn't it? Besides, I like my job. You know, getting my head in the game for a real profession."

  "Is that what happened to you? Someone told you to put away childish things?"

  I met his gaze. "I’m not talking about this with you."

  He nodded slowly. "Fair enough. Where do you keep your forks?"

  With relief, I pointed them out. And even though the tension lingered, surrounding us, we were able to mostly get through dinner without catastrophe.

  He grabbed the bottle of wine to pour out another glass, and I put my hand over mine. "No, I don't really drink much when I'm working."

  "All right, come on, I’ll put the bottle in the fridge if you want."

  "Thanks."

  Wine put away, Oliver leaned against the door. "Dinner was great. I didn't know you could cook."

  I lifted my chin. "Well, truth is, you don't really know me, Oliver." It was the truth. A one-time really intense connection didn’t mean we knew each other. He had no idea who I was or what I’d been through.

  You could tell him.

  Oh no. I wasn’t letting him or anybody else see me vulnerable.

  He sighed. "Okay, you and I need to work together. And our little feud is getting in the way of that."

  “Ya think?” I pressed my lips together. He was right. I spent so much of my time at work over the last few weeks on edge, waiting for his next move. Then I spent probably way more time than was healthy thinking of ways to pay him back. It had to stop. The past was like this ever-growing chasm between us. And if we didn’t deal with it, this tightwire of tension was going to blow up in our faces.

  "Yes, I think." He dragged both hands through his hair.

  “Can we just form some sort of truce? Stick to the plan and all that?”

  He nodded. "Fair enough. Your ideas for Kensington were really good. That 1930s jazz element, he loved that. And I think I found a couple of vendors that will make a soft launch more in range of the budget, leaving more of the funding for the actual launch in New York."

  "Yeah, let's do it."

  I had to admire all his organization. The way he could see things out in front of him. If there was a little shift, his brain worked overtime to get the plan back online. Everything was calculated to the letter. It just didn't allow for a lot of fun. As I glanced down at the original plans, I marveled at them. "Ollie, these are amazing. Honestly."

  "I sense a ‘but.’"

  "No, not really. It's just, there's no room for fun. It looks great, but what about the fun?"

  He frowned at me. "What do you mean by ‘the fun’?"

  "The fun, the thing that makes people want to enjoy and, you know, live their lives. Everything about this soft launch is great. It's perfectly executed, right? But it's not memorable. We want people to walk away from it remembering the Kensington brand. It's just like, anytime someone goes somewhere, it's not about everything going perfectly regimented on schedule, it's about how people feel. And I want to make them feel something. And it's like you've taken the heart out of this."

  He rubbed the back of his neck. "I haven't taken the heart out of anything. It's fun."

  "I know. But if we can get word of mouth going from the Monaco launch about the New York launch, we can make the New York event even bigger, brighter, more singers, more… everything. You saw what he had at his party. That's who he is. That's a legacy he wants to leave behind. Can't rob the old man of that. Especially not when he still holds the reins. We just have to figure out how to do it within budget."

  I could see the muscle on his jaw ticking.

  "Just consider it, okay? We are a team here. I don't want to step all over you."

  He nodded. "You’re not half b
ad at this."

  I shrugged. "Well, I've had a little experience. My boss in New York used to call me the resident think-out-of-the-box girl."

  "That's a good skill to have. I just don't like thinking on my feet. Things usually go wrong when I do."

  "Well, let's think on our feet now but plan for contingencies, and that leaves us with the best of both worlds."

  He nodded. "Right. Okay."

  We carved out alternatives for the soft launch and marketing ideas, per Livy’s request, for another thirty minutes before I got up to go to the kitchen, needing something sweet. "Do you want a coffee or anything?"

  When he answered, his voice was so close. "No, I'm good."

  I whirled around to find him behind me. "Jesus Christ, Ollie. You scared me. What's up?"

  “Things have gotten a little messy haven’t they?” He said. “I’ll admit that you’re good at what you do. I may have been a little hasty in telling you to pack it up and get out of dodge.”

  I clutched a hand to my chest as he poured himself another glass of wine. “Was that a compliment from Oliver Wexler? Be still my heart.”

  "Easy. I’m trying to be nice here. I—” he sighed. "I can’t mess up this opportunity. This job is important to me.”

  What, and I was just here to play? “It is to me too.”

  “So we maybe stop trying to kill each other?”

  As if I was the one who started this. Real mature. “I just want to do the job. It's all I've ever cared about."

  "It's not what you always used to care about. I remember you being very concerned about what your father thought."

  I stiffened and shook my head. "Nice, Oliver."

  He frowned. "I'm sorry. I'm just— Fuck. Every time I'm near you, it's just trigger after fucking trigger."

  I turned to the sink and tried to suck in a deep breath. I was stuck with him. There was no getting rid of me, and I wasn't getting rid of him, so we needed to find a way to get along. Silently he took up post next to me at the sink and started washing.

  I dried the dishes as he finished washing the last one. When I stashed the plate in the rack, I turned to him. “Look, I wish we could pretend we just met. That we could let all that water under the bridge wash away… well, everything. We both need this job. And there must be some part of you that remembers we were friends once. At least I thought we were.”