Page 90 of At His Beck & Call

“Alright. Then go be with a guy your own age, who likes you for you, and doesn’t expect anything in return.”

She goes back to working on my makeup, and neither of us speaks much until it’s time for me to leave. I can’t shake off the nerves I feel, but it has nothing to do with Noah. I can only hope Oliver never finds out about this.

I shouldn’t care. But I do.Far too much.

Chapter 31

Oliver

I’ve been sitting staring at the walls of my office for way too long. I should have left several hours ago, but I haven’t been able to get my mind in gear, staring at the spot where the massage table was.

I’ve been distracted by that memory for days. I can’t wrap my head aroundwhyit was so good.

I’ve never watched a woman get massaged before, and for a while I wondered whether that was the reason. Just the erotic sight of a woman’s hands over another woman’s body...

I arrived back at the office late, having been at a long client meeting all afternoon, and Lissa had already left for the night. The frustration I felt at her absence was distracting enough, but knowing I won’t be able to touch her until tomorrow is pure torture.

I wish I’d never seen her at the hospital.

I rise, buttoning my jacket and glaring at the shelves with disguised dildos as if they’re to blame for me feeling so off-kilter about things.

I never wanted to get to know Lissa as a person, as a mother. I wanted to fuck her and feel no guilt about letting her go. Butnow that I’ve seen that side of her, she is more irresistible than ever.

The idea of telling her about the thoughts running through my head, the feelings I’ve been fighting, thefutureI picture in the dead of night when I’m truly honest with myself. It’s so stupid.

She doesn’t want me. She made that clear when she talked about ‘needing this job’. It’s a means to an end.

A shudder runs through me as I think about her touching my scars.

I can’t afford to let the lines get blurred between obligation and a true connection.

I walk to the door, opening it and seeing Lissa’s neat desk. She’s taken a leaf out of Adelaide’s book and kept everything immaculate. I approach it, running my finger over the corner, the back of her chair, irritated by the jolt of happiness I feel as I catch the scent of her in the air.

Turning away, I walk slowly through the quiet hallway.

At this hour in the evening, there are only a small number of people still on the floor.

No one should spend every waking hour in the office. No job is worth that.

I press the elevator button and send my mother a quick text to check on her.

Natalia was decidedly frosty with me when I was last there, my message about the pills having been translated as an accusation rather than a request. I feel bad for Natalia, but I refuse to believe my mother’s faculties have degraded so suddenly and to such an extent that she’s taking the wrong medications.

My phone buzzes with a response, telling me she’s feeling much better and has been resting a lot.

As the elevator reaches the ground floor, I step out, looking across the lobby to the quiet street outside.

Snow is falling lazily past the long glass windows, a layer of it already thick on the ground. This late winter storm was supposed to begin overnight, but it seems to have arrived ahead of schedule.

My car is in the lot downstairs, but I don’t feel like going home just yet. I would rather walk for a bit and clear my head.

I wave to the receptionists still sitting at the desk in the lobby, watching the snow with worried faces. I hope they have a way to get home if it gets much heavier. The city's de-icing trucks usually do a good job of keeping the roads passable, but the sidewalks, once the snow freezes, can be a different story.

For now, though, it’s beautiful walking through it.

The hazy lights of the skyscrapers above me catch the falling flakes, and pedestrians scurry past in groups, dark coats covered with snow.

I dig my hands into my pockets, lowering my face into the thick cashmere scarf around my neck, and start walking.