Olivia stood inside her large custom closet, the soft glow of her closet lights illuminating the array of outfits hanging before her. She rummaged through her clothes, holding up a blue shiny lace dress and a pair of Prada heels. The reflection in the large mirror showed her uncertainty as she pressed the dress against her chest.
"Nah, a dress would be too fancy," she muttered, tossing it onto one side of her table. She grabbed a yellow hoodie and a pair of long denim trousers, holding them up to her reflection. "Na, too covered," she sighed, discarding them as well.
Finally, her eyes lit up as she reached for a vintage shirt and a pair of denim bum shorts. "That's more like it," she said to herself, excitement bubbling in her chest. She started to change, standing in only her bra and panties as she quickly texted her best friend, Carly. "I haven't been able to get through to Jensen, but I will see you at the party."
Just then, the sound of her door creaking open made her heart race. Olivia darted into her bedroom, peeking out to see Tristian stepping into her room. Instinctively, she pulled back as she quickly entered the closet, hoping he wouldn't notice her.
"Apologies, your mom let me in," Tristian said, immediately turning around.
Olivia's voice came from the depths of her closet, "And you haven't heard of knocking?"
"Well, if it would make you feel better, I didn't see anything," he replied casually.
"Liar!" she shot back.
"I don't have any reason to lie. And even if I did see anything, I have seen better," he smirked, confidence radiating from him.
Olivia gasped, indignant. "Piece of shit!"
Tristian chuckled, "I have been called worse."
"What the hell are you even doing in my room anyway?" she demanded, half-fazed, half-serious.
"I came to pick you up for the date," he stated matter-of-factly.
Olivia laughed loudly, the sound echoing off the walls. "You must have ironed your brain if you think I would dress fancy, put on makeup, and wear heels just to go on a date with you."
Silence fell between them, Tristian's expression unreadable.
"Big guy! Hello!" she called out, but he remained silent, his gaze distant.
Hesitantly, Olivia turned around, only to find Tristian now standing inside her closet, invading her space further.
"Haven't you heard of privacy? What if I was naked?" she exclaimed, her cheeks heating.
"Well, you are going to be my wife; it wouldn't hurt to see what I'd be signing my life away for," he said nonchalantly.
"I would be your wife when hell freezes over," she retorted, trying to maintain her bravado.
Tristian took a step closer, the air between them thickening. "Really?"
Olivia felt a rush of panic as she instinctively stepped back, only to be met with the wall behind her. Tristian's presence loomed over her as he pushed her against it, their faces mere inches apart. She felt his breath against her skin, and her heart raced.
"Pervert," she accused, half gagged, but the tension shifted as Tristian's expression darkened.
"What did you just call me?" His voice was low, almost dangerous.
"You heard me," Olivia replied defiantly, though a shiver ran down her spine.
In an instant, Tristian closed the gap between them, pushing her firmly against the wall, his face inches from hers. His right leg pressed between her thighs, and his hand found its way to her waist, slipping under her shirt. Her breath hitched as he traced circles on her bare skin, igniting a heat that spread through her.
As his fingers moved down to her thigh, Olivia felt herself losing balance. He noticed and steadied her, by holding her waist tightly, his grip firm yet possessive. His hands roamed, exploring the contours of her body, sending shivers of sensation coursing through her. She locked eyes with him, unable to look away, caught in a web of tension and desire.
"Call me a pervert again and you won't like what I'd do next, trust me," he whispered softly, his voice laced with a warning.
Suddenly, he pulled away, frustration etched across his face. He stormed out of the closet and into her room, his anger palpable. He took a deep breath and stormed out of her room. As he reached the living room door, he spotted Mrs. Stone, Olivia's mom.
"Where are you going?" she asked, concern in her voice.
"Something important came up," Tristian replied curtly, not bothering to mask the irritation in his voice.
"Why? What about the date?" Mrs. Stone pressed, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Some other time. It was lovely seeing you, Mrs. Stone," he said, his tone clipped as he walked past her, making a beeline for the front door.
As he stepped outside, Tristian fished his phone from his pocket, dialed a number as he placed his phone on his right ear. "Come to the penthouse immediately," he ordered, his voice cold as he ended the call. One of his bodyguards opened the car door for him, and he slid inside, the engine roaring to life as they drove away.
Meanwhile, in her bedroom, Olivia sat on her bed, her thoughts swirling like a tempest. The recent encounter replayed in her mind, and she could almost feel the heat of Tristian's hands on her skin. Her heart raced as flashes of their moment together invaded her thoughts.
"Did I seriously get turned on?" she whispered to herself, shaking her head in disbelief. She pressed her palm against her forehead, trying to clear her mind.
Suddenly, she heard her mother calling her from the hallway. "Olivia! Olivia!" The door opened and Mrs. Stone walked in "what did you say to him?" her voice laced with anger.
Olivia took a deep breath, attempting to regain her composure. "You should have asked him, Mom," she replied, her tone teasing yet evasive.
Pausing for effect, she added, "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a party to attend to, Mother."
With that declaration, Olivia sprang off the bed, grabbing her Prada handbag from the corner. She rummaged through her vanity, applying a quick swipe of lip gloss before tossing it into her bag.
As she straightened up, determination replaced the lingering confusion in her eyes. She marched toward the door, leaving her mother standing there, a mix of concern and bewilderment etched on her face.
Olivia stepped out, ready to face the night ahead, the thrill of the party mingling with the tension of what had just transpired. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Mrs. Stone looking after her, still baffled by the whirlwind of emotions and events that had just unfolded.