“I can, Mr. Powell.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I’d known Paul for over seven years and he still refused to call me by first name. It was Southern respect, but sounded strange on his lips considering I’d shown up at his kids’ seventh and ninth birthday parties.
“Mediation cannot continue without all parties present,” Serena’s lawyer said.
I’d gotten to know him as well over the last seven years. Never would I attend one of his kids’ parties—not that he’d asked. I didn’t even know if he had kids; the thought of that man creating offspring made me want to shudder on a good day. He was an asshole, and had most likely gotten rich off of my money alone from the cut he took before Serena got her hands on it.
“We’ll need to reschedule.”
“It is not our fault your client is late, as usual,” Costell clipped, and I didn’t bother hiding my grin. “Perhaps if you had stressed how important this meeting was, she’d be here.”
“She will be. I said she’s stuck in traffic.”
It was Raleigh at eleven o’clock in the morning. There was no traffic. And no construction. I’d checked after Paul had relayed the text.
“I’m done.”
I was. Completely. Done playing Serena’s games. Done with her lies and her need to be the center of attention.
Turning back to Paul, I grinned. “Tell me how this goes.”
“With pleasure.” He grinned back.
I turned on my heel, not caring at all about Mr. Gaines’s threats. Paul would take care of me; he always did. I clapped my hand on his shoulder as I walked by him, and just as I reached the conference room door, Mr. Gaines’ assistant opened it and walked through, holding it open.
“Gentlemen, Serena Powell has arrived.”
I scowled at the name. The one thing I gave her I could never take away from her. For years after our divorce that ate at me—that she still had my name and wanted nothing to do with me except a pocketbook from a distance.
Now I just hated her for it.
I rolled my eyes as Serena practically floated in behind the middle-aged and kind-eyed receptionist. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen her, definitely wasn’t the first time I’d wondered how she worked for Gaines.
“Oliver, how kind of you to greet me.”
Serena walked right up to me, looking more like she was getting ready for tea than preparing to lose millions. I stepped back before she could do her typical cheek kisses. They weren’t the sweet ones Southern women used to greet their friends. Serena’s dripped with vile poison.
“I wasn’t. I was leaving. You’re late and I have plans.”
Her faux smile barely faltered before she concealed her surprise. And for probably the first time in my life, I didn’t explain further.
“Goodbye, Serena.”
I tipped my chin toward her and the assistant still at the door and walked out, leaving Serena behind, happily, for the first time I could ever remember.
Chapter EIGHTEEN
SHANNON
I had found the one flaw in my old building—and most especially, in my apartment. A lack of decent air-conditioning had sweat dripping down my back, making me feel nasty and stinky while I unpacked boxes almost as quickly as the movers brought them in.
A thrilling sense of excitement had buzzed in my veins all day long, making me excited and terrified in equal parts.
I was really doing this: owning my own business, moving on my own, and starting a whole new life.
One that was becoming infinitely more exciting and terrifying with the surprising addition of Oliver. I hadn’t been looking for him.
Hadn’t even wanted a man so quickly after I’d left Patrick. I didn’t think I’d be able to trust so easily, so quickly, and yet every time I turned around in the last couple of weeks, Oliver was there. Showing me he wasn’t the man he was portrayed to be in the gossip news. Showing me that the man who had graced more GQ covers than I could count wasn’t the egotistical prick he proclaimed himself to be.
He was kind. He was warm. He was rough and dirty when he wanted to be, but underneath all of it, there was tenderness to him that he hadn’t allowed anyone to see since Serena. When he called me Monday to meet him at the hotel, I’d expected to find him upset or stressed after his appointment with Serena.
Instead, he’d told me how it went, how he felt absolutely nothing when he saw her, watching her try all her stunts to keep receiving his money—which had been relayed via his attorney since he had walked out. We didn’t have sex that night. We talked.
It was more intimate than any time he’d taken me rough and fast. Over the past week, when we weren’t working, we had been together. I barely saw Beaux except for our paths crossing in his apartment. Now that I was finally getting everything from Iowa, I would see him less.
I was unpacking a box of dishes in the kitchen when two strong and familiar arms surrounded me.
Hot lips brushed my neck as one hand rose and brushed my sweaty hair off my neck.
“Hello,” Oliver whispered, his voice in my ear sparking desire immediately.
I stopped what I was doing and covered his hand on my chest with mine. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
I spun around and his hands dropped to my lower back. He dipped his head and went in for a kiss, making me rise up to my toes to meet him halfway.
“Beaux and I wanted to stop by and see how the move was going. See if you need any more muscle.”
“You didn’t have to do that. I think they’re almost done here.”
“Good. Then when they’re gone, we can break in your bed.” He brushed his lips against mine again. “I missed you today.”
I rolled my eyes playfully and stepped back when I heard more footsteps coming down the hallway. “You saw me this morning.”
“Oh, I remember this morning clearly.”
He shot me a look went straight through my body, all the way to my fingertips and toes. This morning had involved being woken up with my wrists tied to the slats in his headboard by two of his neckties. My skin was still sore, along with other parts of me that had nothing to do with a busy day on my feet, unpacking.
“Oliver.” I blushed when a loud, booming voice hit the doorway.
“No kissing my sister when I’m around! Tell me it’s safe to come in.” Beaux walked in, one large, meaty paw covering his eyes, and bumped into a stack of boxes. “Oh, shit.”
I laughed and stepped away from Oliver. “You’re such a moron. Uncover your eyes before you break something.”
Beaux grinned when he dropped his hands to his sides. “There are things a brother never wants to see. That’s definitely number two on the list.”
“What’s number one?” Oliver asked, settling his hand at the base of my back.
Beaux quickly backed up as the movers pushed in.
“Where do you want your couch?” they asked, one of them looking at me as he continued walking backward. He lifted my couch over the boxes Beaux had just tripped over, essentially pushing him back into the wall at the same time.
“Where the nasty one currently is,” I replied. They were taking that and the old bed to the dumpster on the way out.
Seeming to ignore them as soon as they entered, and dodging their way as they began carrying out the old couch, Beaux glared at me teasingly.
“You remember when you were thirteen?” He shuddered as he asked the question.
“What happened when you were thirteen?” Oliver asked.
I rolled my eyes. “You were ten, and at some point you really have to get over it.”
Beaux shivered again. “Never.” Turning to Oliver, he said, “I walked in on her after a shower. All naked girl. Scarred me for life, I swear.”
“Funny. That’s one of the best things about your sister.”
If it was possible to truly turn green, Beaux did it. His hand flew to his mouth as he covered a vomiting sound and gagged. “Oh God. I’m going to throw up.”
I pointed down the hallway. Through my laughter, I said, “Bathroom’s that way.”
He hurried off, making exaggerating choking sounds, and when my phone rang I barely slid the screen a glance before I hit the speakerphone button.
Assuming it was Melissa, knowing it was getting close to when she’d be getting off work and calling to see how the move went, I answered and started talking.
“Hey, Mel! Thank you so much for—”
“Shannon.”
My eyes popped open at the sound of Patrick’s voice and my head whipped to Oliver.
“Patrick?” I asked, my throat going dry. Next to me, irritation began to prickle off Oliver’s skin, making my already tiny kitchen seem even smaller. “What do you want?”
He softened his voice—that tender one that used to make me melt into him, seeking his promises. “Babe, I came home from work and all the furniture’s gone. What’s going on?”
Oliver glared at the phone, and I saw his muscles begin to bunch beneath his short-sleeved shirt. He had a Rough Riders cap on, the bill covering his eyes and making it hard to see them, but I knew that hazel color was blazing.
“This isn’t a good time, Patrick. And I tried scheduling this with you, yet you refused. I told you Melissa would take care of it for me if you wouldn’t cooperate.”
“Honey, I thought we’d talk. I thought you agreed to see me.”