OLIVIA
Two words.
Meet up.
I could feel my heart pounding furiously in my chest as I stared at the message from Enrique.
Our meeting had not exactly ended on the best of terms.
I assumed he wanted us to meet at his office, so I drove there, letting myself into his space.
He was on a phone call, which I tried so hard not to listen in on, but I could hear bits and pieces of him talking to his brother.
It occurred to me that I hardly knew anything about the man I had decided to marry.
For all I knew, he could be a serial killer.
That did not sound right, but who could tell in this day and age?
He hung up and sat down, staring at me.
I did not meet his eyes.
When the silence became unbearable, I started with an apology.
"There is nothing to be sorry about, Olivia," he said, his voice calm.
It was then I raised my head, my heart still beating wildly.
Why wasn't he angry at me?
I had expected him to be furious because, to be honest, if it had been Liam, all hell would have broken loose.
Instead, he sat across from me with the calmest expression I had ever seen on anyone.
It, sadly, reminded me of what little love I had received in my life.
Don't get me wrong—my father loved me.
He showed this in what little way he could, but I wasn't what he ideally wanted, and there was no way he could hide that disappointment from me.
My marriage to Liam had been a way for him to get the heir he wanted. Until now.
"I just thought… I know you wanted the company, but—"
"It is your company also, and you are within your right not to want to sell," he told me.
I felt my fluttering heart calm.
"Why then did you text me?" I asked, confusion creating a fine line on my forehead.
"Oh, that. I wanted to confirm our living arrangement. Now that the world knows we are married, the last thing I want is for it to become news that we do not live in the same house."
That made sense, I thought.
But it had been two words in bold letters.
It had sounded serious.
"What do you have in mind?" I asked.
"Move in with me."
I blinked at this.
"Where?"
"I have a penthouse down on Eastview, and it has the most perfect view in the best neighborhood."
There should be no reason why my heart was now doing a double flip at the thought of being in close living quarters with this insanely compelling man.
"That sounds okay by me," I told him.
"Great. I will arrange for your stuff to be brought so we can return together tonight."
Tonight!
Fuck.
I wasn't ready.
The last time we had spent the night together, I had been drunk, and the whole thing was still hazy. I could not remember if we had done—
"Olivia?" I heard him call out, rising to his feet.
He rounded the table and took my face in his big rough palms.
"What are you doing?" I shrieked.
"Stay," he ordered.
I felt the protest leave my body.
He was staring intently into my face, turning it from side to side.
"What is it?" I whispered.
"You… I thought you were convulsing. Your face suddenly went red, and I thought—" His voice trailed off, and then he grinned.
"You were blushing," he stated.
I reddened again in his hands, pulling my face out of his grasp.
"I wasn't," I protested, the heat in my cheeks an embarrassing testament to the fact that I was lying through my teeth.
"It is nothing to be embarrassed about… you blush quite beautifully, gatita," he drawled.
"What does that mean?" I shot at him.
"You really want to know?"
I nodded.
"I just called you kitten, Olivia."
I gasped, furiously searching for words to express the displeasure I was most definitely not feeling.
Get a fucking grip, I nearly screamed at myself.
Stop acting like a prude. You have gotten compliments before, Olivia… it is nothing new.
I had gotten compliments before, but none like this. None that threatened to burst my weak heart into shreds. None that lit the fire in my belly. None that was all-consuming. And none that came from a man like him.
I did not think I had known a man like him—with eyes that threatened to swallow me whole as they remained on my face and strong, corded arms folded across his chest as he leaned into the table.
I was acting like a schoolgirl having a crush on the hot professor.
"Olivia is just fine. Not wife, and most definitely not kitten," I ground out.
He leaned forward, and my throat dried.
I, however, kept my scowl in place, a defiant tilt of my chin so we were staring at each other.
A lock of his hair fell into his face, but he made no move to get it out of the way. He merely kept an unwavering gaze on my face.
"We will definitely discuss that in the nearest future," he drawled, a teasing lilt in his tone.
"There will be no discussion, Mr. Garcia. However, we do need to talk about our contract, have it officially drafted and signed." I got to my feet.
"Why?"
He did not lean back, so I was stuck either taking a step back or braving the heat emanating from him that seared my skin.
I took the step back, and it caught his attention.
The light expression on his face turned to amusement.
I gritted my teeth to keep myself from smacking him across the face.
"Why?" I echoed. "Because you seem to be forgetting this is a contract, and a contract has to have certain parameters and rules."
"I am not exactly good at following rules, Mrs. Garcia."
"That's too bad," I teased.
His eyebrows furrowed, the amused expression on his face transforming into such seriousness that suddenly left me tongue-tied.
I could not tell if he was going to reach out and kiss me because it looked like he wanted to, and I could not decide if I was going to stop him because I did not think I was.
But hell if I was waiting around to find out.
"I will get my stuff myself. You should send me your address," I told him, turning around.
"Chicken," he chuckled.
I did not turn around to counter that.
Only when I got into the elevator and was staring at myself in its glassy screen did I replay our conversation.
There had been something there, alright. A tension, like a charged lightning bolt, ready to zap the hell out of me.
I wanted nothing to do with that.
If only I could remind myself of that the next time I was staring into his liquid brown eyes.