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“Liv told me she was going to meet up with Lilith for some more self-defense training in the morning,” Sawyer says before taking a bite of his dinner.
“Yeah, I actually told Lilith I’d prefer if she came here for it. They’re going to use my home gym. I gave her clearance with security.”
“I’m glad they seemed to hit off when Lilith came out the first time. I think she’s a good person for Liv to get to know,” Grant adds. “Actually, Ivy and Claire, too. Liv will need girl friends when we get on her nerves.”
“And none of them will judge her for being in a relationship with all of us.” It’s something I worry about once people start to pick up on it. I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks or says about me, but it’s entirely different if anything blows back on her.
“At the end of the day, our relationship with each other is no one’s business but ours,” Sawyer says as he finishes his meal. “We’ll need to keep ourselves as private as possible though.” He looks at Grant, who has his name splashed in gossip columns the most.
He holds his hands up. “It’s part of the job, especially owning nightclubs. Let’s get down to business on security for the gala.”
We spend the next few hours working through logistics of having several active teams out on the floor that night. One tasked with protecting Liv at all costs, no diversions whatsoever. Another team to take Tripp after his speech. A third team to run security on all the exits.
Grant sends an email off to Tripp while we’re all together, an official invite to the gala as a keynote speaker. Just as Liv assumed, he’s quick to respond with an answer, and of course, it’s a yes.
Sawyer took control of the event itself. He has a PR agency his dad’s firm represents, and they put on beautiful events on short notice all the time. We’re paying a lot for this, but before we kill Tripp, we want to watch him squirm. He’s going to know that all his money is gone and being used to help those he spent so much time hurting.
Grant has to leave to go to one of his clubs for the night, but Sawyer stays for a late-night workout. We start to warm up with some light cardio, but end up trying to beat each other’s distance in the twenty-minute warm up. I win, naturally.
“How do you think Liv’s coping with all the trauma?” Sawyer asks as he starts a set of benches.
“I don’t know.” I look down at him from my spotting position. “It’s hard to say because she doesn’t open up about it at all. She holds it all in until it explodes in a panic attack.”
“Yeah,” he grunts. “But she seemed so much better down in Costa Rica.”
“Everything is better in Costa Rica.”
He huffs out a laugh. “That’s actually really accurate. Maybe we should build our place down there. I saw a plot of land, just north of your family’s, for sale on the beach.”
“I saw that, too. It would give us just a bit of extra privacy away from my aunts and cousins.”
“And fewer people on the beach, too.”
“Yeah, until a developer comes in and builds out there to bring all the tourists.”
He stops lifting and looks up at me pensively. “What if we bought and developed it? We could put little five-star villas there, ultra-private.”
I look at him before trading places. “That’s actually not a bad idea. I’ll look into it.”
“What do you think Liv’s going to want to do once everything settles down?”
“I’m really not sure. She'll have enough money to invest in one of our businesses if she wants. We can obviously support her in any and every way.”
“She was really eyeing the schools we drove past yesterday.” Sawyer helps me set the weights on the rack. “Maybe there’s a way she can get involved in education or charity work.”
24
OLIVIA
Nolan’s apartmentis completely unique to the other three. Where they all have the same floor plan, his is a divergence with a two-level loft penthouse with a balcony. When you walk in the door, it’s just a large open room with two-story windows along the west facing wall. He has a small kitchen—the smallest of the four— along one wall. The other side of the room has a large couch, a wall mounted TV, and a baby grand piano. There are guitars and a mandolin spread around the room, too.
I walk to the piano and run my fingers over the keys, remembering the nights he used to sneak me into the band room in high school and play music for me all night. He walks over and holds his hand out to me.
“Let me show you upstairs, that’s where the real showstopper is.”
I follow him up a floating staircase with no railing on the outside. I don’t know if I could use these stairs regularly, just following him up gives me vertigo. When I step into his bedroom and he turns me the opposite direction, however, I completely forget any worry about the stairs. His rooftop patio is literally half the building. There are outdoor couches and seating areas all over. I spin around when he leads me out there.
“This patio must double the square footage of your penthouse.” I walk over to the edge, a glass wall with a chrome bar across the top that hits me right about at my ribcage.
