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"Morning, Angel."
"Umm." She rubbed her eyes and glared at the window. "Morning."
"How did you sleep?"
"Good. You?" She sounded tired still. I wanted to tell her to go back to bed, but I didn't think she would listen to me and I saw no need to ruin a perfectly beautiful morning with her stubbornness.
"I'm good. I've woken up to you in my arms." I said softly and her eyes widened then her cheeks turned pink. What was she thinking?
"I suppose," her eyes flickered to my chest and she worried her bottom lip, making my stomach feel as though a rock truck dumped its load.
"What is it?"
"Well," the pink in her cheeks deepened. "This is embarrassing, but did you ask me to marry you last night?" She stuttered. "I mean, I don't know if I dreamed it. It felt so - real."
I chuckled and she looked horrified. I would definitely be getting that ring for her tonight. And I would plan a proper proposal. "I did. And you said yes."
She looked relieved for a moment before worry took over again. "I did, didn't I?"
"Yes." I nodded. "And it's too late to go back on your word. We will be married before the end of November."
Her eyes widened. "November next year?"
"No. This November." I said slowly.
She flinched. "Jace, that's really soon."
"I know I haven't talked to your father, but I will." I assured.
"What?" Fear flashed in her eyes and she pulled away from me, cringing into herself at the mention of the man. "You can't contact him." She pulled the sheet around herself, visibly shaking.
What the fuck did the guy do to her? "Olivia, talk to me. Why don't you want your father to know you're getting married?"
She focused her eyes on the wall. She wasn't staring at me, but I could see they were misting over with tears. My stomach clenched and my gut ached. What the fuck? "I never want to see him or the rest of my family again. Ever."
"All right." I sat up, pulling her into my lap. She struggled futilely for a moment. But only a moment before she slumped against my chest, curling her knees into her own. I held her in my arms and rocked her gently. If I could have seen myself a year ago I never would have believed it. I never would have believed a little lady like her would have captured my heart in her gentle palm, owning me completely.
"I don't want to talk about this." She whispered.
"Tough shit." I replied gruffly. "It's you and me against the world. From now on there are no secrets. Only truth. Why can't I contact your family? Why don't you want them to be part of your life?"
"My father is controlling," she paused and its now I remember Trisha warning me off. She told me she did everything she could to get Olivia away from her father and that she would do anything to keep her from getting hurt by another man. At the time I'd been furious. Now I was curious. What had Trisha meant? And what was Olivia trying to say?
"Go on," I nudged gently.
She pulled in a shaky breath. "He owns a law firm in Toronto where I was born and raised." I already knew this about her. I'd read it in her background check. "I have a brother who is only two years older then me. He is the family favorite. I suppose you could say I'm kind of known as the black sheep of the bunch. Anyway, my father wanted the two of us to go to school for law like he did and take over his practice. It was his dream and ever since I can remember he drilled our future into us until we believed we wanted it. But as I got older, I realized I held no love for law." She hiccupped. Her story was sounding shockingly familiar to my own. My own father had pressured me into running his corporation. The only difference is that Olivia had been lucky enough to sever the ties and walk away. I simply couldn't. I had too much responsibility tied to my deceased fathers desires to just walk away and start new. It didn't work like that. "I liked writing. And for a long time I thought I wanted to be a writer. But he never supported me."
"And your mother?"
"My mother is a socialite. It took me coming home only once with dirt under my nails for her to decide the doctors switched babies in the delivery room. No daughter of hers would ever play in the mud."
My heart felt heavy. I wanted to hurt her parents for the way they'd wounded her. She didn't deserve this and I knew these kind of wounds remained on the heart for a lifetime for most. I could only hope I would be enough to make new memories and wipe out the old, painful ones. Her parents never should have had kids. There was no love in the home at all. Whereas I'd had a harsh tycoon of a father, my mother had shown my sister and me nothing but eternal devotion and love. How was it that I was the fucked up one out of the two of us? Olivia had clearly had it rougher than me. "What were you doing?" I asked.
