Now I’ve done something that’s just about impossible to do. I’ve rendered Andrew Forrester, the king of verbal outbursts, speechless. He stands there gaping at me, unsure if I’m trying to trick him or if I mean what I said.
I step over to him and put my arms around his neck, pulling him down to face me. “It’s fine, really.” I stand on my toes and kiss him while he stands there watching me warily. “Really, babe. I’m not mad.”
Slowly, he snakes his arms around my waist and hugs me closer. “You’re not mad?” He’s confused by my bizarre response.
“No. I know you sent them because I’m important to you, and after I left Vancouver without a word or thought for your feelings it means a lot to me that you cared enough to want me protected.”
He leans down and kisses me again, participating this time. Breathless, we break apart. “I couldn’t possibly love you more right now.”
“I don’t know, the way I feel about you I think I’d probably give you a run for your money, Forrester.”
I snap back to the present and look around the half-finished nightclub. The bar is being constructed and most of the light fixtures have been installed. Painting and flooring are done and about a quarter of the furniture has arrived already. Outside, massive concrete planters that double as seats are being poured and shaped and the bar is already complete. The bathrooms are a complete disaster, still stripped bare as we wait for a shipment of Italian marble tile.
I smile as I think about how shocked Drew was that I forgave him so easily. Maybe New Sydney knows that she needs the security he provides. Who knows? I just don’t want to fight him on every single thing anymore. After losing him, even for just a few short weeks, I’ve come to appreciate just how much he does for me. If making him happy in return means letting him think he’s controlling everything around him then that’s what I’ll let him do.
“Sydney,” Oliver says as he comes through the large glass patio doors and joins me by the bar. I see his eyes focus behind me where Evan is standing, then quickly back. While Drew is ecstatic that I allow one of the huge bodyguards to follow me everywhere, Oliver is never pleased to see a large, intimidating man show up with me every day. “We need to work out the exact placement of the tables on the terrace and there are a few builders and the cement renderers that require some figures from you.” He spreads out a few papers on the fold-out table for me to look at.
Things with Oliver have been tense since Drew arrived. We never had a chance to discuss the incident on the patio that day, not that I wanted to discuss anything. It’s obvious the way Oliver acts that he thinks I’m an idiot for being with Drew. He clearly can’t stand him, stiffening up whenever his name is mentioned.
“Okay Oliver, no problem.” I reach out to scoop up the papers and his hand brushes mine as he tries to help. I yank my hand back quickly and thank him for his help.
“Sydney, let me show you something on the patio that needs your attention,” Oliver says tightly, glancing at Evan again as he speaks.
I nod and follow him outside and around the corner between the drying concrete planters and the full outdoor bar. He stops suddenly and whips around to face me, almost crashing into me as I scramble to keep my footing.
“Oliver, what are you doing?” I’m annoyed by his sudden halt.
He runs his hand across his almost military-short dark hair and scowls in frustration. “You … I thought … buggar, I’m such an idiot,” he says, mumbling under his breath and turning away from me.
“What on earth are you talking about?” He says nothing, just keeps staring at the city with his hands behind his head. “Oliver?” His shirt has ridden up and I catch a glimpse of the ‘v’ shaped muscles on his waist.
Damn!
He finally turns around and walks purposefully toward me, stopping inches from my face. “I guess I thought that something was happening here, with us. Then your American hotshot comes back and you take him back as if everything is fine!” he says bitterly.
I guess we are having this conversation. “I don’t know what to say. There was no ‘us’ Oliver.” The wind whips my long hair around, brushing it across his face. I reach up and gather it all together, twisting it around to contain it. He takes a piece and pulls it through his fingers, letting it slip through until it’s free again. Oliver leans forward and I hold up a hand. “Don’t.” My tone is sharp, halting him before he can do something stupid.
He scowls and steps back. “So it doesn’t matter to you that he’s off with every dodgy scrubber that throws herself in his path? Christ Sydney, I thought you were better than that!”