It was about Olivia Shade.
“Uh…no we’re not,” he denied.
She stopped pushing at his chest and dipped her face closer. “Do not pretend for one moment what started us was by my invitation only. Yes, I invited you to that ride. But that invitation went both ways.”
“You took the walk,” he noted.
“You made it clear it was a walk worth it to take,” she retorted.
“Not sure why we’re goin’ over this when the point is, you’re still takin’ that walk every time you come to me. You’re takin’ that walk, you do not take another guy.”
Both her brows shot up. “Are you saying you want exclusive?”
“Woman,” he growled, his hand moving up her back to fist in her hair so he could pull her face to within an inch of his, “you take me ungloved. Fuck yes, that’s gotta be exclusive. We fuck, I fuck you. Not a parade of guys you’re fucking.”
He felt more of the heat of her temper as she lost control.
“And now I say fuck you, Sebring.” The pressure came back from her hand at his chest. “Let me go.”
He held her fast. “Not a chance. You are not done with me and I sure as fuck am not done with you.”
She pushed harder. “I’ll say it one more time, let me go.”
He jerked her closer. “You tellin’ me you feel so much nothin’ for me that you wanna expose me to whatever shit your mom’s friend’s boy could give you?”
“I’m telling you that you don’t get to make assumptions about the woman you think I am because I was drawn to you to start what we started the way we started it,” she shot back, her delicate voice tight with anger, and he couldn’t deny it and she wasn’t hiding it—hurt. Hurt he did not like to hear. Hurt she felt enough to force her to make a mistake. “I’m telling you I haven’t taken any man unprotected. Not even Tommy.”
Nick felt his body still.
But doing it, he felt hers lock.
Not even Tommy.
Tom Leary? A Shade soldier?
A fucking Shade soldier it was known wide felt the wrath of his king and got the drip of acid on his face to learn his lesson. A lesson people knew he’d learned just looking at his face but no one knew why he’d learned it.
This thought shifted from his head when suddenly, her body flew into motion.
Fuck yeah. She’d made a mistake.
He moved instantly to clamp her tight to him.
She emitted a noise of desperation when she found herself immobilized, her arms wrapped round her front, her wrists seized, the only thing she could move was her legs and they were positioned to his side so any movement was ineffectual.
He needed to dig into her comment about Tom Leary.
But he felt at that juncture it would be an error to focus on the mystery of Olivia and not the forward movement of his plan.
“No one but me?” he asked.
“Sebring,” she bit off.
“Why me?”
“Let me go.”
He shook her slightly. “Why me, Olivia?”
She looked to him, mouth tight, eyes holding unhidden anger and frustration, both, he suspected, for herself but aimed at him for her mental health.
“You’re of my world. You get it.”
“I know of Tom Leary, Olivia,” he probed gently. “He’s of your world too.”
She gave a slight toss of her head that if their situation was not as intense as it was would have been fucking adorable. Enough to make him laugh or at least smile.
Instead, it just registered as fucking adorable, which was bad enough.
“He’s in my world. There’s a difference.”
“I get that,” he muttered.
She glared at him, too dignified to fight when she knew she was beaten.
He held her glare and it was fucking adorable too.
His eyes dropped to her mouth.
“Fuck, I want you to ride me hard right now.”
He watched her lips part.
His gaze cut up.
Anger and frustration gone, hunger all there was in her expression.
She felt him hard against her thigh.
And she wanted that too.
His hold loosened. “Climb on, Olivia.”
There was no war as to who would be on top, not this time. Necessity dictated she take the top unless he wanted her on the floor (and in that room he would absolutely not take her there) or again at the wall and he was in the mood to watch.
But they were them. The war was had, this being who got to pull and tug what piece of clothing on the other.
But he got her skirt up, her panties off and she got his cock out.
Then she got it in her.
She could have the top.
But he was taking control.
And he did. To her eyes widening, her cunt soaking, his hand fisted in her hair, his other arm around her waist driving her down on him as he thrust up.
He shoved her head to his, their foreheads colliding.
She held on to his shoulders, as he moved her on him, moving under her, Olivia bucking through the ride, their gazes locked.
“Sebring,” she breathed.
That was the first time she gave him that.
He liked his name on her lips when his cock was inside her way too much. So he angled his head and took her mouth.
They kissed.
They fucked.
They came.
A live sex scene played out behind a one-way window as they did it and neither of them paid any attention.
They had both come down, he was still inside her and holding her, his hand now gentle in her hair, having allowed her to slide her forehead to his shoulder.
“I won’t fuck him,” she whispered.
He relaxed.
Completely.
And gave her a squeeze.
A goddamned squeeze.
He couldn’t stop it.
He knew why. He knew it. He knew he was fucked by it.
He shouldn’t care who she fucked.
But he did.
It wasn’t (all) about going ungloved.
It was much more than that.
Fuck.
Shit.
Fuck.
Yeah, he was drowning.
And he had to resurface.
Soon.
Chapter Eleven
A Perfect Goddamned World
Olivia
12:32 – Friday Afternoon
I sat across from Georgia at Rioja, barely having my ass to the chair and my purse set aside before I grabbed my napkin to shake it out and put it on my lap. This was my indication, regardless that she chose Rioja, a place I’d normally wish to linger, that I wanted this to go quickly.
“David’s disappeared.”
At her announcement, I casually finished laying my napkin on my lap and shared, “Not surprisingly, since he’d like to be somewhere far away to enjoy the seven million, six hundred twenty-three thousand, two hundred forty two dollars he stole from us.”
Her brown eyes went wired and her mouth got tight.
Georgia and I shared Dad’s straight black hair and olive skin. She got his brown eyes. Mom’s eyes were blue. I had no idea where my eyes came from. I just always liked the fact that there was something of mine that was none of theirs.
“I just finished finding it all half an hour before I left for lunch,” I went on. “And at this point, as petty as it is, considering I’ve been sharing my concerns about David for years, I would very much like to say ‘I told you so.’”
“Please be careful, Liv. I’m suddenly not in a good mood.”
I wisely decided, considering her moods occasionally could be like our father’s, to be careful. Thus I looked away, seeing a waitress coming our way.
Georgia already had a martini.
I ordered sparkling water with lemon and lime and a glass of Prosecco.
“I would suggest that as soon as possible Gill and or Tommy are dispatched to bring him back. And it wou
ld be helpful when they did that they bring back as much of our money as they can,” I stated when the waitress moved away.
My sister’s still angry eyes narrowed on me.
“Tommy?”
I tipped my head to the side. “He does need more responsibility, doesn’t he? Seeing as he has a growing family he needs to take care of. It’s time he stopped stagnating and moved up the ranks.”
Anger and sisterly tenderness warred in her features as she started, “Liv—”
I turned my attention to my menu. “Let’s order. I have a good deal to do and I have plans this evening.”
She said nothing. The waitress came back with my drinks. We ordered.
Then she said something.
“It’s been years. And now you’re over Tommy that easily?” she asked, watching me closely.
“I’ll never be over that,” I answered then went on foolishly, bringing up a topic I knew all too well I shouldn’t bring up, “A heinous lesson that was learned when there was no need to teach it. But still, although never to be over the lesson that was Tommy, I’m over Tommy.”
“You guys stole two million dollars,” she said carefully.
Yes. I was foolish to bring it up.
I did not want to go over old ground.
But I was so used to doing it when the frequent occasion occurred that my sister tried to explain gently what had been demonstrated not-so-gently, out of habit, I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “How can one steal one’s own money?”
“Nothing is anyone’s, babe, you know that. If it’s Shade, it’s all the Shades’.”
I nodded. “Oh yes, I do remember that being mentioned while boiling oil was being poured on my back.”
She flinched.
I kept talking.
“Okay, it has to be said that we’re at a stalemate about this that we should call for eternity. I’m over Tommy. I’m really over discussing this. It’s clear you agree with Dad that I did wrong and deserved to be punished.”
She tried to interrupt. “Liv—”
But I persevered.
“I’ve made it clear that I felt as a human being I should be free to work and earn my own money and have the right to pursue happiness with whoever I choose without threat of imprisonment and torture. I’m afraid I have rather strong feelings about that ideology, no matter how brutally I was proven wrong. Thus, we won’t come to an agreement or even a compromise. So allow me to live my repression with some dignity.”
She leaned toward the table and lowered her voice as she said, “Like I’ve said a million times before, we keep discussing this because you need to be careful about shit like that, sis. I’m not happy David stole from us but I’m glad you found it. Dad’ll be seriously pissed about David but he’ll be pleased you seem more on board, sorting that out, calling the order to get Gill and Tommy involved, taking care of family. But, you keep going the way you’re going, saying the shit you say, behaving the way you do, not letting that shit go…” She let that hang and finished, “You have to know, Dad doesn’t trust your loyalty.”
I let my eyes widen in faux shock.
“Really?” I asked sarcastically. “You can’t be serious, Georgie. Gee…that must be why he still watches my house.”
“You learned the loyalty lesson once,” she hissed, but she said it like she wished she didn’t have to. “The way you carry on, Liv, he’s not sure it sunk in.”
“I did learn a lesson,” I agreed. “However, I will note that the lesson taught did not buy loyalty. It bought hatred. And in order to end this discussion once and for all, I’ll stop pussyfooting around and say it out loud. I loathe that man. Since he never liked me much, I returned the favor. But after that, I hated him. The only reason I do what I do is not loyalty to him. It’s because it’s the only livelihood I have. Then there’s the small fact I have absolutely no other choice. And last, the only good part about it all, I do it because I love you.”
She sat back at my last, her face growing soft.
I watched her reaction wishing I didn’t love her. It might make some things much easier.
But I did because she was my sister. I did because she’d always, as best she could, took my back.
And her showing so readily how much it meant to her was another one of the reasons why.
“Needless to say,” I sallied forth, “we need the money back that David stole so if you’d like to take a break from our pleasant conversation at this juncture to give that order to Gill, I’ll wait. Or, if you’d prefer I do it, I’ll take that opportunity now.”
“I’ll do it,” she muttered, reaching for her purse.
I sipped Prosecco while she did, trying not to think how different this was—having this conversation again with my sister, talking about a business I did not want to be in, harking back again to all that happened which should be history, but I had to admit (regrettably due partially to me) it had not yet been laid to rest—doing all that with something to look forward to in my imminent future.
This being dinner at Nick’s that night, something I’d agreed to last night under some duress while fucking in his bed.
Not painful duress.
A different kind.
But (I told myself) the fact remained that I had survived a dinner at his place without anything catastrophic happening. And the same with fucking there every night since, except when we were at the club. Not to mention an ugly conversation with him that still made my heart race because it seemed it was spurred by jealousy he shouldn’t feel and a demand from him of exclusivity I should not have given in to.
Yes, I’d survived all that.
And I’d survive lunch with my sister.
So dinner again with Nick should be a breeze.
Our meals were served while Georgia was still issuing orders to Gill.
I didn’t feel in the mood to be polite, but the truth of it was, I now had two jobs, mine and David’s, so I needed to get moving. Therefore I didn’t wait before I started to eat.
She joined me when she was done on the phone.
“Unless you prefer otherwise, I’ll explain things about David to Dad,” she offered, tucking into her pasta.
“That’d be fine,” I agreed, willing to agree to anything that offered me the opportunity not to be around my father. But definitely not being there when he heard his trusty friend/employee was an embezzler.
“We’ve other things to discuss,” she told me.
“David left a mess so let’s discuss them. I have a great deal to do,” I replied.
“I’ve set up four labs,” she announced. “As of two weeks ago, they’re all fully functional. We’ll have product by the end of next week.”
I stopped with my fork halfway to my mouth and stared at her.
“Sorry?” I whispered.
“Four labs,” she repeated. “It’s taken time and some resources. But the people I have dealing with it know what they’re doing, they source good shit and they cook good shit. Your boys will have product, and a lot of it, by the end of next week. They need to get their shit together to unload it because it’s gonna keep coming.”
“Product?” I asked.
“Ice and E,” she stated casually, and equally casually shoved food in her mouth.
I looked side to side before I leaned her way and hissed, “Georgie!”
I did this for a variety of reasons, including the fact I was just hearing this now and she was calmly discussing cooking meth and ecstasy at fucking Rioja!
“I told you I had a plan,” she replied.
“Does Dad know of your plan?”
She said nothing.
Oh God.
“One,” I began to count down all the things wrong with her going forward with this to the point of production. “Valenzuela hears we’ve got labs, we’re at war.”
“We have territory we’ve kept. We’ll work that careful not to infringe. If we can keep it from him and are smart in selling for long enough, when it’s time to expand, we’ll have so
ldiers to fight or he’ll be smart enough to let go some turf. And anyway, we’re producing and I’m assured what’s cooked is very good. He might find it in his interests to start buying from us.”
She was insane.
Benito Valenzuela did not have partners. He didn’t make deals. If there was something he wanted or something was happening he did not like, he performed hostile takeovers, the hostile part defined as hostile because it was underlined in blood.
I didn’t argue that. She knew that, this being why she was insane.
Instead, I stated, “Two, when Dad finds out, he’s going to lose his mind.”
She shook her head. “He’ll come around.”
“You know what he finds acceptable,” I reminded her. “And those two products in our menu are not that.”
“It isn’t the eighties anymore, Liv,” she told me exasperatedly, like it was me making the rules when it was not, never was and it never would be. “He has to swing with the times. We can’t get our hands on coke or H because Valenzuela has it tied up. I had to get creative. Furthermore, it’s ridiculous Dad thinks cocaine and heroin are elite drugs and Shade only deals in elite. There are no elite drugs. Drugs are drugs. Drugs are money. And we need money.”
I glanced again side to side before I retorted, “I know it isn’t the eighties, Georgie, but this is Dad and he thinks he’s king. You don’t move forward on something like this without discussing it with him. On that alone he’s going to lose his mind.”
She dropped her fork and leaned toward me. “We don’t do something, we lose hold. All hold. Soldiers. What little territory we have left, and you know there isn’t much. We gotta rebuild. We had to do that five years ago, seven, ten, before you or I even took our offices at the warehouse. So it’s safe to say that right now, the time is so ripe to do it, it’s rotting off the goddamned vine and I’m not gonna rot with it.”
At her vehemence, and frankly, the veracity of her statements, I shut my mouth.
“I know he’s not going to take it well, that’s why I didn’t talk to him about it in the first place,” she carried on. “But he has no choice. It took me years to sort out all the shit I needed to sort out under the nose of Valenzuela and Seth Townsend’s boys still sniffing around, keeping tabs. Not to mention that fucking motorcycle club, the Nightingale men, Delgado’s commandos, those two fucking Sebring brothers and every other player who keeps tabs on the Denver streets.”