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She’s a gorgeous, hypnotic miracle, who still isn’t sure if she trusts me, considering the look of hesitation in her eyes as I open the passenger door to offer her my hand. When she gives hers to me, something inside my chest—the heart I’m realizing beats exclusively for her—thunders triumphantly.
I might not have her full trust, but I have enough of it. I have enough to capture the rest, and right now, that’s all that matters.
The sun is setting, casting a golden glow through the living space as I stop in the kitchen, pouring a glass of champagne for her, a rum and coke for me. I find it adorably entertaining how someone who loathes pop because of the bubbles can love champagne so much. She’s a beautiful contradiction. Everything about her. From where she came from and who she became to the fact she loves bubbly wine and dislikes soda.
With a chin-lift, I gesture to the patio.
Olympia gives the teardrop swing a longing look before sitting next to me on the sofa. “You don’t seem like a teardrop swing kinda guy.”
“I’m not.”
Tension overtakes her body. “Was it—a girlfriend who chose it?”
“Nevaeh.” My answer has her brows lifting. I chuckle. “First time she saw my place, she stood out here with her hands on her hips, scowling. Told me my furniture looked like something a twenty-year-old boy who worked two jobs and was studying in school plucked from yard sales. She said it was not the furniture a man, established in his career, has.”
“So, you bought new furniture?”
“I paid for it. Nevaeh picked it.” I feel my eyes narrow on her face. “If you don’t like it, you can get something else. Anything else.”
Her eyes slide to me, that furrow between her brows I can’t help but want to kiss away. “I like it just fine.”
Taking her hand in mine, I revel in the way it swallows hers. I’m so much bigger than her, and she’s so beautifully delicate.
Again, I think of Remira and the others hurting her. Toying with her. Threatening her.
Anger simmers in my gut and I try to douse it with a swallow of my drink. It doesn’t work. Not really, anyhow. “This is your home, Olympia. If you don’t like something, change it.”
“This is my home?”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Since the minute you first arrived.” I grin at the incredulous widening of her blue eyes. “I just needed some time to get used to the idea.”
She snorts but settles into the cushion next to me. I let go of her hand to drop my arm around the back of the sofa, my hand resting on the soft bare skin of her shoulder.
After long minutes of silence, Olympia relaxes. “I feel like I’ve fallen into a bubble and at any moment, it’ll burst.”
I’m the reason she feels that way. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re making my head spin. Seriously, Tav, I have whiplash.”
“I was so angry, Olympia,” I admit softly, feeling her eyes on me. “I’ve been so angry for years. When you arrived, I was struck by how beautiful you were. When you asked me to sully you, to wreck and ruin you—my blood got hot—not only with anger. And that pissed me off even more, because how, after everything that happened, was I hot for a Laurier?”
“I never did anything wrong.”
“I know that.” My thumb continues to caress her shoulder. “I knew that, but I couldn’t separate it. I wasn’t capable of thinking rationally through all the anger and hurt. And then when you brought up my mom’s will—that anger just got worse.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, shame drenching her shaky words.
“It’s okay. I always suspected something happened to make Mom give everything to Abe. It didn’t make sense. I just didn’t think her lawyer would alter the will—forge it.”
“If it’s any consolation, I think Remira and Abe threatened him. They all used to be good friends, but I haven’t seen Mr. Green in ages.”
I feel my jaw tighten. “That doesn’t excuse what he’s done.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she agrees softly.
