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“Think about it, Ty. All I’m saying is look a little deeper,” Blake says. “Give peace a chance. You never know what you might find.”
“Who in the hell have you guys turned into?” I don’t even recognize these men anymore. “Wasn’t I always the voice of reason in our trio?”
“Yeah. The right woman happened to each of us. The loves of our lives.” Blake doesn’t even bat an eye saying this.
I can’t help but goad my brothers. “So you’ve gone soft?” Blake sits up and the look of a warrior springs into his eyes, the same look that can silence a boardroom and make people shake.
“Just because my heart’s softened doesn’t make me weak. Don’t for one second think that’s the case. I realized I don’t have to be alone and miserable in this world. If someone crosses me, I’m still a force to be reckoned with.”
“How do you separate it?” I ask.
“You learn to adjust, to figure out what’s worth getting upset about, and what’s not,” Byron says. “Sometimes you slip up, but you forgive yourself.”
“Thank you.” I mean these words. A bit of time with my brothers and I feel much better. We sit for a few more moments before my brothers leave. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m a fool, but since I can’t get this woman off my mind, I might as well find out why. The games with one Olivia Truman aren’t quite over yet.
ChapterSixteen
Olivia
“Olivia, get in here!”
Ugh. Sometimes I hate my boss. He’s arrogant and condescending. Okay, he’s also brilliant, and he brings in clients. And though I loathe him, I need this job. It isn’t easy to get a job with decent pay right out of law school, and every law school grad is in enough debt from student loans to... oh, use your own cliché here. I have a long way to go before I can do what I truly love — helping children. I only get to do this on a volunteer basis for now, and with my long hours, time for my passion is incredibly limited.
It’s good that I have a job that isn’t the worst in the world, because the rest of my life is an utter disaster. My revenge plan has left me miserable. I never expected to miss Tyler Astor. I expected to feel triumphant and righteous, but miss him I do. Every single day — and night. Especially night.
We spent time together for a month, a single month, but that time brought the past back like a hurricane. There was a brief moment in my life when Tyler was my best friend, and while I executed my plan, I saw glimpses of the boy I once loved so much. I have to remind myself he’s now a man I despise for justifiable reasons.
Picking up my iPad in case my boss wants me to take notes, I step into his office and wait while he finishes speaking on the phone.
“We have a new client, and he’s requested you. I told him we have attorneys with a longer track record who could do the job better.” I grit my teeth and keep silent. I’m good at my job. I’ve only been practicing law for a couple of years, but I’m dedicated, work long hours, and take great care of my clients.
“Don’t you have anything to say?” my boss asks. “I’m giving you a great case.”
“I appreciate it. Give me the file and I’ll start reviewing it immediately.”
“No file yet. The client wants to meet you face-to-face first and discuss the case. You’ll meet with him tonight — eight o’clock at the Fairmont Hotel, in the Georgian restaurant.”
“Okay, I’ll be there.” It’s unusual not to have notes to go over first. Most clients want their attorneys up and running on a case before they waste their time and money talking. I turn to leave Timothy’s office when he calls out my name. I stop and turn.
“Olivia, give this man whatever he wants. This is a high-profile client with megabucks in the bank and the stock market.” Dammit! I loathe clients like this.
There’s nothing unusual about meeting a client at night, but I hate the ones with a lot of demands. Still, many of our clients are incredibly busy, and my job certainly isn’t an eight-to-five gig. I enjoy some of the dinner meetings with clients at exclusive places I can’t afford. The problem’s finding something appropriate to wear at a restaurant like the Georgian. I’ve become pretty good at faking it and can stretch my dollars better than most.
Work eats up the rest of my day, and not having a file to study up on my client doesn’t make me happy, but sometimes that’s how a job goes. At home I rustle up a nice black pencil skirt, not too short, and a blue top that matches my eyes. After throwing my hair into a tight bun and touching up my makeup, I nod into the bathroom mirror. With time to spare, I catch a cab to the Fairmont and walk inside. My heels click on the marble floor as I proceed to the Georgian.
When I give my name to the host, I don’t have to wait. He escorts me to the restaurant’s private dining room,The Petite, a room I certainly haven’t seen before. As I make my way past the other diners, live music drifts through the room.
I’m a little disappointed we won’t be sitting out here where I can listen. But this is a business meeting. I have to suck it up. The story of my life. When I enter the private room, my client hasn’t arrived, so I take a seat and order iced tea. I normally have a glass of wine at dinners of this sort, but I know nothing about this client or what he wants.
Normally, this would be fine if I had the dang case file. At least I wouldn’t be sitting here doing nothing when the man enters. My firm takes pride, above all else, that we’re sought after. Unsure whether to check my phone or sit here pretending to be in deep thought, I begin to grow antsy when the atmosphere in the room suddenly changes. I don’t need to turn around, don’t need to make eye contact to know who’s joined me. Maybe I’m going to need that wine after all.
ChapterSeventeen
Olivia
“You look good, Olivia,” Tyler says as he steps in front of me. He looks good too. He’s wearing a dark gray suit and red tie, his coat pushed open to reveal the crisp white shirt beneath and the hand-tailored trousers showcasing his magnificent hips. His hair’s neat, his face clean-shaven, and a predator’s smile — not unlike the one I saw in his bedroom a month ago — rests on his lips. I don’t want to find him sexy, but it’s incredibly hard not to.
“Thank you,” I grit out, thinking over and over again that I have to be nice or risk losing my job. Tyler knows this and is thoroughly enjoying himself.
