“Did it?” The iciness to my tone had Sara blushing.
“Is it Harlow?” she asked in a low voice. “Can I help?”
I laughed bitterly. “Somehow I don’t think a woman-to-woman chat with you will aid the situation.”
Her eyes held the gentle concern that had drawn me to her in the first place. She slid her hand across the table and squeezed my fingers. “I’m so sorry, Oliver. I haven’t handled the situation with Harlow well at all. I guess I was jealous of her. She had you. I wanted you back. I still want you back.”
“Sara,” I said, my voice holding a warning.
Releasing me, she raised her hands in surrender. “I know. I know.” She smiled. “But we can still be friends, can’t we? We have a child together, a history. I take full responsibility for my actions, but people change, Oliver. I’ve changed. I won’t lie that getting back together with you would be wonderful, but I accept you’re not there. What I can’t accept is that you’ll never be there. The love we had for each other doesn’t just disappear. I hurt you, and I’m sorry. All I ask is that you give it some time.”
My cell phone rang, saving me from answering. I fished it out of the inside pocket of my jacket. Garen. Standing to take the call, I moved away from the table.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s up?”
“Where are you?” he asked.
“At Bubby’s,” I replied. He knew the restaurant was Annie’s favorite. “As a treat for Annie. She’s still hurt over Harlow, so I let her invite Sara.”
“Well, un-invite the bitch and get your ass home. I’m here.”
My eyebrows shot up. “In New York?”
“No, in fucking Hell, which is where you’ll be as soon as I share what I’ve discovered about your delightful ex. Now fucking move it.”
He hung up without giving me the chance to respond. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and my skin prickled, a sure sign of a sudden spike in adrenaline. I slid my gaze over to our table, watching as Sara whispered something to Annie which made her laugh. My jaw flexed.
What the fuck had Garen uncovered?
30
Oliver
I returned my phone to my pocket and sat back down. “Hurry up, Annie.” I jerked my chin at her almost-finished plate of food. “I have work to do this evening.”
I wasn’t happy rushing her, but with Garen waiting at my penthouse, no doubt pacing, his impatience increasing with each passing second—along with my own—I was anxious to get going.
“Aww, Daddy, I wanted ice cream.”
She pouted. I always let her have ice cream when we came to Bubby’s—but not tonight.
“There’s ice cream at home,” I said, gesturing to the server to bring the check.
“What’s the hurry?” Sara asked, her eyes narrowing as she tried to figure out what had changed in the last few seconds. “Who was on the phone?”
“None of your business.” I set my credit card on the table.
Sara rose from her chair and snatched up her purse. “There is no need to be rude, Oliver.” Bending down, she kissed the top of Annie’s head. “I’ll see you soon, my sweet girl.”
She swept out of the restaurant, her long black coat trailing behind her like a scene out of Van Helsing.
“Daddy, what’s the matter?” Annie asked. “You seem angry.”
I scrawled my name on the check, then stood and waited for Annie to scramble to her feet. “I’m not angry, munchkin.” I fixed a warm smile to my face for her benefit when inside an icy chill filled my veins. “There’s just something urgent I have to deal with.” I crouched to her level and kissed her forehead. “And I have a surprise for you.”
“You do?” she said, her confusion at my odd behavior vanishing, no doubt as fast as the ice cream would when we returned home.
“Uncle Garen is here. He’s waiting for us at home.”
He hated it when I laid the Uncle moniker on him which, of course, meant I did it all the more.
“He is?” She clapped her hands. “Has he brought me a present.”
“Annie,” I warned. “That’s not very polite.”
She dipped her chin into her chest. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
I ruffled her hair. “Come on. Shall we go see?”
Her despondency didn’t last long. “Yes!” she said excitedly.
Annie barely waited for the elevator doors to open into the foyer of my penthouse. As soon as they’d parted far enough, she squeezed through yelling, “Uncle Garen” at the top of her voice. By the time I’d caught up to her, Garen had her upside down by her ankles, demanding penance for calling him Uncle. It was a game they’d played ever since Annie first uttered the word—heavily coached by me—and she loved it.
“Call me that again and I’m returning your gift to the store.”
“I won’t, I promise,” Annie giggled, except, of course, she would.
“Okay then.” Garen set her on her feet then rummaged through his bag, producing a gift-wrapped box. “For you, sweet Annie.”
She reached for it, eyes wide, bursting with excitement.
“What do you say to Uncle Garen, Annie?” I asked, earning a fierce glare from my best friend and a sneaky one-fingered salute behind Annie’s back. I grinned and winked.
“Thank you!” she gushed.
“You don’t know what it is yet,” Garen said. “It might be an empty box.”
Her face fell, and then she inclined her head and grinned. “You’d never do that to me.”
She tore off the paper to reveal a plain brown box. Opening the flap on the top, she reached inside and removed the latest top-of-the-range tablet for kids.
“It’s loaded with all the latest games,” Garen explained. “Or so the lady at the store told me.”
Annie squealed with delight, then threw her arms around him. “Oh, Uncle Garen. I love it. I love you.”
She smothered him in kisses, and while he tried to hold her at arm’s length, I could tell that on the inside, he couldn’t be more pleased with her animated reaction to his gift. Garen tried to act as if he didn’t care, but I knew the real man behind the mask.
“All right, all right, that’s enough,” he said, making a big show of wiping his face.
Annie giggled, then turned to me. “Daddy, can I go play with it in my room?”
I opened my mouth to say, “Homework first”, then changed my mind. Garen had done this on purpose. Homework wouldn’t have absorbed Annie’s attention to the same extent that an electronic gift with all her favorite games to play would. This way, we’d get to talk in peace, and while I was usually strict when it came to her schoolwork, I figured missing one night wouldn’t hurt. If necessary, I’d write a note for her teacher.
“You can, munchkin.”
She squealed again, darting up the stairs and disappearing from sight. Garen sauntered over and shook my hand, then pulled me into a rough hug, clapping me on the back.
“It’s great to see you, man,” he said. “Been too long.”
I laughed. “You see me on Skype at our weekly catch-ups,” I said, referring to every Friday when the ROGUES team had an hour-long meeting over video conference. Sebastian had suggested it, and we’d all embraced it, especially as we only got to see each other in person every couple of months.
“It’s not the same,” Garen grumbled.
“Jeez, sweetheart, you’ll have me gushing in a minute.”
Garen smiled, but he couldn’t hold it.
“What did you find?” I asked.
He pointed to the couch, indicating I should sit, then crossed over to the kitchen. He removed two crystal tumblers from the cabinet and poured us each a healthy serving of scotch. Returning to the living room, he handed one to me.
“Cheers.” He knocked back half the glass in one swallow.
I sipped mine. “Can we get to it?”
He set his glass on the coffee table and unzipped the front pocket of his carry-on bag, removing a sheath of papers. He handed them
to me.
“These are for later when you’re craving more details, but in the meantime, I’ll sum it up for you.
“Sara had an elderly aunt on her father’s side who, long before Sara was born, had a falling out with the family. She ended up meeting and later marrying the Earl of Montgomery, a member of the British aristocracy. Despite trying for children of their own, they were unable to conceive but, by all accounts, they had a happy marriage.
“The earl died over a decade ago, and then, last month, the aunt died, too. She left her entire fortune and, just as important, her title of Countess to Sara. Unusual, but not unheard of in special circumstances to bequeath titles through an estate, even when they were inherited through marriage.”
He paused to take a drink, a more moderate sip this time.
“Does Sara know?” I asked.
Garen snorted. “Oh yeah. She fucking knows.”
I twisted my lips to the side. “Strange she didn’t mention it.”
“Not strange at all when you know what I know.”
I arched a brow. “Which is?”
“There’s a condition attached to the bequest. Sara’s aunt was old-school, and so she added a proviso. To inherit the money, the title, all of it, Sara has to marry.”
“So? She’s a beautiful woman. She won’t find it that difficult to meet and marry someone, even if she goes through with it for money rather than love. She can always break it off afterward.”
“Ah,” Garen said, “but there’s a rather large problem with that scenario. When I said the aunt was old-school, I wasn’t joking. She was a devout Catholic who believed wholeheartedly in the sanctity of marriage and, therefore, deemed it only possible to have one husband in the eyes of God. And, well…”
Realization slammed into me, and a sudden coldness hit me in the gut. “Sara’s already had a husband. Me.”
Garen theatrically threw his hands in the air. “Bingo. Poor, poor Sara. What is a girl to do? And then a lightbulb goes on. She’ll simply remarry her ex. You,” he added pointlessly. “That would satisfy the requirements. After all, according to the aunt’s beliefs, you can’t actually get divorced. She married you, and therefore, she’s married to you forever. Unfortunately for Sara, the law doesn’t work that way. She needs the bit of paper to claim her inheritance.”
I nibbled on my thumbnail, my mind racing, trying to take in the enormity of Garen’s news. “And that’s the only reason she came back?” I said, so quietly, it could be misinterpreted as talking to myself.
“Yep,” Garen said. “She’s a piece of fucking work, that one.”
I got to my feet and wandered over to the window, staring into the obsidian night, the tops of the trees in Central Park visible only through light bleed, their bare branches buffeted by the stiff breeze. Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I turned around.
“How could she do that to Annie?”
Garen shook his head sadly. “I wish I knew.”
I frowned. “But what would stop her from remarrying me, inheriting the money and the title, then simply taking off again?”
“Nothing,” Garen said. “And that’s the cruelest part of this whole plan. She gets you to fall in love with her again, makes Annie think she’s back for good, grabs the money, then runs, leaving the two of you devastated for a second time.”
Hot rage at the depths Sara would resort to seared my insides. She’d already wormed her way into Annie’s heart, a terrible consequence I’d have to deal with once I’d gotten her out of our lives. But if she’d succeeded in her plan, I couldn’t bear to think how much worse it would have been several months, a year, two years down the line.
“What would you do, if you were me?”
“I’d confront her, and then I’d get her the hell away from me and my kid pronto.”
My eyes darted around as I planned my approach. “She won’t give up without a fight, not with a fortune and a title on the line.”
“What’s she gonna do? Force you down the aisle?”
“With Sara, it’s hard telling. If I back her into a corner, she’ll come out fighting.”
“Let her,” Garen said. “We’ve got more than enough firepower to take her on.”
I nodded, dreading the battle ahead yet knowing I couldn’t avoid it. I wished Harlow were beside me. Grabbing my phone, I went to call her, then changed my mind. I needed to fix this shit with Sara first, then win Harlow back. Somehow. I refused to believe it was over between us. She’d asked for space, and I’d granted her that, but as soon as Sara was out of our lives, all my efforts would go into fighting for the woman I loved.
Instead of calling Harlow, I sent a text to Sara.
We need to talk about us. Come over to my place tomorrow morning at ten.
A little cruel as Sara would immediately think I was coming around to the idea of a reconciliation, but that was the point. I wanted her to feel comfortable. I wanted her to think she was going to get everything she wanted, and then I’d cruelly snatch it away.
Her reply came instantaneously.
I’ll be there.
She followed that up with another three-word reply, one that was steeped in manipulation and lies.
I love you.
I didn’t reply. She wouldn’t expect me to.
Turning the screen toward Garen, I showed him our exchange. He rolled his eyes when he reached the end.
“I fucking hate that woman.”
I laughed. “I know. You’ve never made a secret of it.”
His eyes twinkled. “You know me, buddy. Shoot from the hip, always.”
“Which is why I’m hoping you’ll agree to be here tomorrow.”
A flash of glee crossed his face, his grin widening. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
31
Harlow
Oliver’s car slowed to a halt outside his building, and I ducked behind a large oak tree, its wide trunk more than enough to hide me. My chest ached as I watched him appear with Annie, her hand tightly in his as she skipped alongside him. He’d dressed in jeans and sneakers, and a sports jacket that offered little protection against the biting wind. He mustn’t be going into the office today.
His driver opened the rear door, and Annie climbed in. Oliver strode around the back of the vehicle and got in the other side. The car moved smoothly away, taking Annie to school. My eyes tracked its movements all the way down the road. It turned a corner, its taillights disappearing from view.
Four days had passed since I’d packed a bag, walked out, and checked into a cheap motel. A far cry from the luxurious penthouse that I’d lived in for almost three months, but beggars most definitely couldn’t be choosers.
I’d halfheartedly searched for work, but what I really wanted was to return to the man I loved and his daughter who might not be mine through blood, but nevertheless, felt like mine in every way that counted.
The only problem was that, as far as I knew, nothing had changed on the Sara front. If it had, I was sure he’d have called, but my phone had remained woefully silent save for the odd text from Katie making sure I was okay.
I wasn’t okay.
Night after night I’d lain awake wondering if I’d done the right thing by removing myself from the situation. Sara’s unexpected and unwelcome—at least by me—return had sent me into a tailspin. My relationship with Oliver was too new to deal with the baggage of an ex hell-bent on worming her way back into his life. Yet my very absence would probably give her the ‘in’ she craved, and the not knowing was torture.
Which was why I’d decided when I woke long before sunrise this morning that I would reach out to Oliver and talk things over. Get the lay of the land, so to speak. Except, when I’d arrived outside his building thirty minutes ago, I’d lost my nerve. Instead, I hovered across the street like a pathetic stalker.
Removing the plastic lid from my cup of coffee, I blew on the contents and took a sip, screwing up my face when I realized I’d forgotten to add sweetener. If I’d guessed corre
ctly, and he wasn’t going into the office today, I’d wait for him to return from Annie’s school and approach him then. I couldn’t go on like this, heartsick, not sleeping or eating properly, missing listening to his soft breathing as he slept. And Annie, too. I missed her excited chatter when I picked her up from school, the way she bartered so skillfully to stave off her bedtime for “just five more minutes”, how her eyes drooped when I read to her, but if I stopped, she’d snap them back open, denying she was tired and begging me to continue.
I estimated it would take Oliver thirty minutes to drive to Annie’s school, see her inside, and then have his driver bring him back home. If more time than that passed, then I’d miscalculated his intentions via his casual attire, and I’d head to his office instead. Now that I’d settled on the need to talk with him, I didn’t want to put it off for another day.
When Oliver’s car appeared, my pulse jolted, and, despite the chilly air, my hands felt clammy. What if he rejected me? What if I’d given him the excuse he’d wanted to break off our relationship by flouncing out and not contacting him since?
The car coasted to a stop, and Oliver climbed out. I tossed the cup in a nearby trash can and buried my hands in my coat pockets. Looking both ways on the busy street, I stepped off the sidewalk.
“Oliver.”
My head snapped to the left. I hadn’t called his name, so who had?
I got my answer.
Sara.
That she was here was bad enough, but what really crushed me was the friendly smile he greeted her with. And then my heart shattered into a million pieces when he pressed his hand to the small of her back and, together, they walked into his building.
I struggled for breath, my heart racing. I’d once begged Oliver not to hurt me, and I’d believed his earnest vow. I’d thought he was different, but he was just like all the rest. I’d trusted him, given him my fragile heart, and in return he’d lied and cheated. His platitudes about Sara, his supposed unhappiness with her return were nothing more than empty words said for reasons only he could answer.
Enraptured: A Billionaire Romance (The ROGUES Series Book 2) Page 19