by Kira Blakely
“No.”
“You want me to stay,” I said. “Even if you won’t say it, Olivia. You’re afraid you’ll need my help again, and I won’t be here.”
“You have no idea what I want,” she whispered back.
“Don’t I?” I got up again and walked over to her, got so close her tits brushed my chest. Her nipples hardened, poked the fabric of that stained robe.
She raised her chin, and I admired her again. The tiny wrinkles on her forehead, hardly there, that’d probably grow more pronounced as time passed. The beauty spot beside her left ear, the straightness of her nose. The plushness of those lipstick-free lips. Her eyes flicked from side-to-side as she absorbed me at the same rate I did her.
So different, yet exactly the same.
The last time I’d seen her, she’d hated me. Was it still that way? Could she spare any emotion after Mike’s death? I couldn’t. Whatever happiness I’d possessed had been sucked right out of me, and even then, it’d only been a smidgen.
A doped-up mother and a verbally abusive and negligent father had seen to that.
“No,” she whispered and focused on my eyes at last. “You don’t know. You never knew what I wanted.”
That was a sloppy punch to my gut. It was a bald-faced fucking lie. I’d made her quiver. I’d made her fantasize. I’d made her write.
I shifted her hair from her neck, dragged it back, and she squeezed her eyes shut as it caught at the dip, then disappeared over her shoulder. She exhaled through her nose. Precious O, fragile, delicious. Spoiled. Full of shit. She’d railed against me. She’d hated me.
But she was supposed to be mine.
“Tell me what you want, O.”
The last letter, our little nickname, stiffened her spine. Her eyelids flicked open, the stare hardened. “I’ll tell you what I want, Beckett. I want to sleep. I want one full night of uninterrupted sleep without worrying that Penny’s going to scream her little head off for a person I can’t be.” She looked up at the ceiling. “And I want to shower. I want to shower, and I want to smell good again. I want to wash my hair, Beckett. That’s what I want.”
I dragged my hands down her arms, then held her hands.
“And trust me when I say, the last thing I want right now is you,” she finished and whipped herself from my grip.
“Does that include my help? You want me to leave?” Her bottom lip trembled. “No, you don’t want me to leave,” I replied, and chuckled. “Come on, Olivia. Say you need my help, and I’ll stay. If Penny wakes up, I’ll settle her again. All you have to do is ask.”
The prospect of uninterrupted sleep had her shaky and teary-eyed, but she didn’t get the words out. Simply opened her mouth.
“That’s a good way to catch flies,” I said and tapped the underside of her jaw.
She clicked her teeth together.
“You swallowed enough pride to call me here. What’s a little more?”
“I’m maxed out,” she said.
I turned for the door.
“Wait!”
A slow smile spread my lips.
“Stay.”
“Ask nicely, O,” I commanded.
“Please stay, Beckett. I need your help.”
I nodded and faced her again, lifted a hand to stroke hers.
Olivia back-pedaled and put as much distance between us as possible, snatching her hands out of reach. Her body, fuck. “You can sleep in the first guest bedroom. It’s down the hall, past Penny’s room, right across from the bathroom.” And with that, she spun on her heel and padded off, her curves swaying beneath the robe that couldn’t possibly be sexy but made me crazy regardless.
Olivia Abbott.
My Achilles heel. The one who got away. The one I’d shoved away with both hands.
Sleeping a few feet from me.
Chapter 4
Olivia
Sunlight illuminated the coffee stain on my expensive sofa, and the smudge of crayon on the wall, but other than that, the place looked pretty darn good if I did say so myself. One night of uninterrupted sleep had worked wonders on my attitude.
I’d woken up at seven—a first for me, since I’d always been a late riser—and set to work cleaning the place from top to bottom.
The laundry I organized and placed to one side to be taken to a laundromat. I’d scrubbed the floors, washed the dishes, prepared Penny her breakfast—full fat yogurt, bananas, and blueberries—and taken another shower.
I am superwoman!
Ridiculous, since this was probably a regular start to the day for any other mom in the world. For me, this was the start to something new…
For this first time since Penny and I had started this little journey, I was in control.
I placed Penny in her high chair—she was almost big enough to be free of it—and laid a kiss on her little forehead. She blinked up at me, for once, not wailing. “Good morning, sweetheart,” I said. “Did you sleep as well as I did?”
“Beck poo,” Penny said and offered me a toothy smile. “Beck poo, poo eat the poo.”
I snorted, ignoring the twist in my stomach at the mention of him. “Sorry, Penny-pie, but I only have this. No poo.” I put down the yogurt and fruit in front of her.
She picked up the plastic spoon and dug it into the yogurt. Some of it slopped over the edge and splattered onto the tray.
“All right,” I said. “Let me help you.” I held my breath. Each time I’d tried helping her eat in the past, it’d ended in disaster—she’d wail and insist I leave her alone. She was an independent little girl. That or she just didn’t like me.
I took hold of her chubby little wrist and helped her get some into her mouth. “See? Like that. Easy as pie.”
“Pie!” Penny grinned at me. “Like pie.”
My heart swelled to twice its regular size. She’d smiled. She’d let me help her. She’d said “pie!” Maybe this kid thing wouldn’t be the death of joy after all.
Listen to you. You’d think you were enjoying this for once. That it wasn’t some hellish task set by your brother in a last-ditch attempt to make you put the spas and dresses behind you.
I pinched her cheek, lightly, then kissed her forehead again. “Today is going to be a good day, kiddo.” Maybe I’d even get a chance to start planning my business. Ha, as if. Or I could start vetting the preschools around this place for next year.
Mikey had been very specific about when he wanted her to go, and it wasn’t until her third birthday, which was eight months away. Eight months for me to figure out how to do this properly.
A knock shuddered the front door, and I released Penny’s wrist. Shoot, was it OK for me to get the front door while she was in her chair? She had food. What if she choked?
Ridiculous. The door is a couple feet away in plain sight.
The knock came again, but uncertainty stalled me. Penny had already determined to eat a slice of yogurt-covered banana on her own.
Rat-tat-tat-tat.
The knock was insistent now. A demand. And whoever it was wouldn’t go away. I opened my mouth to call out.
“Are you going to get that?” Beckett’s voice curled around my shoulders and slipped into my ears. A gruff balm. I jolted on the spot, then hated myself for it.
“Yes,” I said, without looking back at him. If I did, I’d likely make a fool of myself as I had last night. “Watch Penny.”
“Please.”
“Ugh. Please.” I hurried to the door, his stare biting at my heels. Why couldn’t he act like a normal human being? Why did he have to command everything? Control everything? And why did it still attract me to him after all these years, even when I had way more important things to worry about?
I had no time for Beckett Price and his sexy smolder, his devil’s glare.
I rattled back the chain on the front door then opened up.
A cloud of rose perfume infused the entrance and shuttled up my nostrils. My eyes watered.
My best friend, Bebe, grinned at me from her sp
ot in front of the door. Her platinum-blond hair was piled atop her head, her lips painted bright red to match the LV handbag slung over her arm. She wore her usual—skyscraper heels, a form-fitting pencil skirt, and a silk blouse. “Darling,” she purred. “There you are.”
I blinked. Where else would I be?
The Granite Room yesterday had been nearly the first time I’d gone anywhere remotely “high society” since Mikey’s passing. God, it hurt to think about it. Even now, with Beckett behind me and Penny merrily chomping on her breakfast instead of screaming, for once.
“Hi,” I managed. “Bebe, I—this isn’t a great time.”
“Don’t talk shit, girl, it doesn’t suit that pretty mouth.”
“Bebe!” I hissed. “You can’t talk like that around Penny.”
“Penny?” She frowned. “Who’s Penny?”
Oh. For. Fuck’s. Sake.
She knew exactly who Penny was.
Bebe craned her neck and caught sight of the high chair, or of Beckett. Her face lit up. Yeah, definitely Beckett. She brushed past me and swayed into the living room, tottering on those heels.
I looked down at my bare feet and grimaced. Once, I’d have worn those, too. Well, the slightly shorter version. I wriggled my toes, with their chipped nail polish, then shut the door, but I didn’t slam the chain home.
“Bebe, this really isn’t a good time. I’m busy,” I said and swung around, striding back toward the kitchen.
“I can see that,” my friend said and eyed Beckett.
Finally, I forced myself to look at him. Forced myself to see the suit that fit his body so well—it was crease-free, too. How had he pulled that off? Unless he hadn’t slept at all. Or he slept naked.
I pressed my thighs together and turned my thoughts away from that.
“Hello, Bebe,” Beckett said and nodded once, his dark gaze flitting from her to me. “Olivia doesn’t need company this morning, least of all from you.”
“Wait,” I said and put up a palm. “You two know each other?”
“Damn right, we know each other.” Bebe gave a suggestive wink of her mascara-laden lashes. “And I didn’t ask for your opinion, Mr. Price. I’ve come to take my girl out. Since you’re already here, you can stay behind and watch the kid.” She acknowledged Penny’s presence for the first time.
Beckett raised one eyebrow—his signature “don’t be a fucking idiot” move—and inhaled through his nose.
“Uh oh,” Bebe said and tittered. “Watch out, kids, he’s inhaling. What are you going to do, Beck, exhale fire?”
“Beck poo!” Penny chirped up, slurping yogurt from her fingers. She’d totally abandoned the spoon in the interim, and Beckett hadn’t done anything to stop her.
He leaned against the counter, easily, and poured himself a mug of coffee from the pot I’d freshly prepared. He took a drink—no cream, no sugar, black as his soul—and waited.
“Well?” Bebe laughed again.
His easy lean didn’t change a whit, but his eyes hardened to obsidian shards.
Bebe turned to me, dismissing him with a sway of her ass, and put up a smile that was way too bright. “Anyway,” she said and drew the word out. “So, there’s a new club opening like, just down the road, and it’s free drinks the entire day. Everyone’s going. The hottest eligible bachelors in Manhattan, Olivia. It’s about time you get laid.”
“Bebe!” I flushed hot all over. Christ, did she have to say that in front of Beckett? In front of Penny?!
Beckett shifted, but I refused to look at him.
“Come on, let’s go.” Bebe clamped her hand down on my arm, her crimson nails pressing into my skin.
“You know I don’t like those kinds of parties,” I said. My younger brother, Nathan, was caught up in that lifestyle, and I despised it. Partying, staying out late, sleeping around. That wasn’t me.
“Well, you need to learn to love them.”
“Bebe—”
“She said no,” Beckett said, his voice soft as the slither of a snake through long grass.
Everything froze, except for Penny, who gurgled and chewed noisily on a banana slice.
Bebe didn’t release my arm but focused on Beckett instead. “And who died and made you king of the apartment?” She spat it out, sharp, but she trembled beneath his glare.
He moved, and she flinched. An overwhelming presence, he was all the energy in the world, barely contained in that suit. He strode across the kitchen, took my hand, and removed me from Bebe’s grip.
He towered over her, his back to me. “The next time you come here unannounced, you’ll be thrown out.”
“That’s not necessary,” I grunted.
He held up a hand, and anger burned in my belly. Who the hell was he to do this? I’d asked for his help, not his interference.
“Get out,” Beckett said, and the snarl in his voice sent a shiver down my spine.
Bebe let out a tiny noise, half a yelp, almost. “I don’t know who you think you are, but—”
“You know exactly who I am.” It came out so smooth and powerful. So confident. He believed that she’d obey. Beckett believed that everyone and everything would obey him. He’d always possessed a well of arrogance, of confidence, that had had the most influential people bowing to him.
I moved out from behind him, frustration burbling through me, my fists clenched at my sides. Bebe was jaw-dropped, staring up at him, shaking her head. She didn’t say another word, simply gave me a scandalized look then headed for the door.
She shut it behind her with a click.
“Good,” Beckett growled. “You shouldn’t see her again. She’s a bad influence.”
He had a point, but that didn’t matter. “Damn you,” I whispered and walked to Penny’s chair. I picked up her little face cloth and cleaned the yogurt off, then unhooked her and lifted her out, walked her to the playpen on the other side of the living room, and placed her in it.
“What did you say to me?” Beckett asked.
“You heard me,” I replied.
Penny set to work on her blocks in the corner, and I strode back toward the kitchen. I halted a few feet from him, because getting too close would be bad for my concentration. “You don’t get to kick people out of my apartment.”
He smirked.
“You don’t get to tell me who comes to visit. You were here to help, Beckett, not to put your little stamp on the situation,” I snapped. “Why can’t you be normal?”
“Normal,” he said and let out a raw chuckle. “Normal is nothing.”
“No, normal is normal. It’s…comfortable. It’s nice. It’s—”
He stepped up close, leaned in and placed his lips to my ear. “It’s not going to make you beg for more,” he whispered, and goosebumps rose and trickled down the side of my neck, my side. “But I can. Are you sure about normal, O?”
“Stop calling me that.” I stepped back again, slamming my hip into Penny’s high chair. The half-empty bowl of yogurt slapped onto the floor and splattered my bare feet. Great, just great.
“You loved that,” he said.
“No. I never loved anything about you.” A lie. Such a damn lie. “Beckett, it’s time for you to leave. Thank you for your help, but I can take it from here.” I raised my chin, even though this was an even bigger fib than the first one.
His lips twitched at the corners. “Soon,” he said, then swept away from me, toward the playpen. He kissed Penny and left.
Another click of the door, followed by a sniffle in the corner.
“Beck poo,” Penny said, and her little face screwed up. “Where Beck poo?”
Here we go again.
Chapter 5
Beckett
I straightened my tie and checked my reflection in the mirror above my marble sink. I was overbearing. Dark hair, eyes almost black and filled with obsidian anger. I didn’t have time for this.
I didn’t have time to think about that damn woman and her problems. About the way her hair fell past her shou
lders and swished when she walked. She was just another liability.
She was a timesuck.
Olivia would call me back to that apartment and ask for my help again, and that was something I couldn’t afford. I had people to meet.
I checked my watch and ground my teeth.
One hour until my meeting—I’d be seeing potential investors, some of whom had been meeting with my competitor if my intel was correct. It was my intel, so naturally it was correct.
“Focus,” I said, and my throaty growl reverberated off the tiles in my bathroom.
But it was easier said than done.
Focus when Olivia’s curves were trapped in the corridors of my thoughts? Impossible.
The night it happened came back to me sharp and clear, floating up to taunt me now, seven years heavy with nostalgia.
*
Darkness embraced the side of the house, the back porch and the yard. I struggled across the lawn, my arms aching, blood staining my collar from the cut I’d staunched beneath my eye.
Christ, that’d bled like a son of a bitch. So what? This was what I’d wanted. To teach him a lesson for what he’d done—for chasing her away.
The cops would come soon. I didn’t have much time.
I jogged up the back steps, my loafers scratching on the wooden boards, and strode to the window next to the back door. Mike had always left it unlocked for me throughout high school, and now that we were home from college, it was no different.
I slipped my fingers under the wooden frame and lifted it quietly.
One leg went in, then the other, and I entered the house. It was quiet as the grave, but for the tick of a grandfather clock from the living room. More shadows, more blackness. That suited me perfectly.
I wound around the familiar shapes of dining chairs and a table and reached the open archway that led out into the corridor. I halted and listened. In the distance, sirens whooped through the night.
A smirk tugged at the corners of my lips.
I shuttled down the hall, then up the first and second flights of stairs to the attic room at the very top. The door was closed, and the sliver beneath it let out nothing but faint, pale light. Not a bedside lamp, but something else. A nightlight?