16. Sixteen

16

SIXTEEN

“ I have to go.”

Olivia had a firm grip on my tie and no intention of letting me leave. It had been a week since we’d changed the parameters of our relationship, and all thrusters were still firing … to the point where I was taking lunches in the penthouse. And by taking lunches, I mean I stripped the second I walked through the door and met Olivia in my bedroom.

It was still technically my bedroom—she had her space and I had mine—but we hadn’t slept apart since the night at the rooftop bar. It used to be that I thought I needed privacy to sleep well. Turns out, that was a bunch of crap. When she was next to me, I slept hard and deep. I’d never slept so well.

Still, our “lunchies” as we called them were currently my favorite.

“Come on.” Olivia made a whining noise in my ear that had me responding like Pavlov’s dog, Zach Junior standing up and saluting. Whenever I heard that edge to her voice, I knew what came next. “You can call in sick for the rest of the afternoon.”

She was in her robe because she’d put it on to follow me to the door. That didn’t mean it was staying shut.

“Baby, I have to go to work.” I slipped my hands beneath the robe and started rubbing them across her soft skin. “You’re killing me,” I complained. “Absolutely, positively, killing me.” My mouth covered hers before she could respond, and I sucked all the oxygen out of her lungs. I was gasping in tandem with her when I pulled back. “We have to come up with a compromise.” I gave her a serious look as I forced distance between us.

Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “I don’t want a compromise.” She made the whining noise again. “We can be quick.”

If it had been another day, another meeting, I would’ve taken her up on the offer without a second’s hesitation. That was not a possibility today. “Livvie, my meeting is with my father.”

She stopped pulling on my tie and instead slid far enough back to meet my gaze. “Oh.” She lessened her grip.

“Ah, Ryder Stone,” I drawled. “The quickest way to create a desert in my wife’s panties.”

Olivia made a face. “That was both gross and kind of clever. I don’t know whether to be impressed or horrified.”

“Welcome to my world.” I gave her a hard and fast kiss because I couldn’t seem to stop myself. Now that I could kiss her whenever I wanted—well, as long as we were secured away from the public in our penthouse—I indulged myself as often as possible.

I knew romance had flown out the window when Olivia straightened and tightened the sash on her robe. “What does Ryder want?” She held up her hand to stop me from responding before I could get a word out. “Wait. Let me guess. He wants to bus in dancers from Indonesia so he can pay them pennies on the dollar.”

I leveled a “don’t even go there” look on her. “First off, we agreed to keep our interests separate regarding your new stripper career.”

Her hands landed on her hips, and she gave me the saucy look I loved so much. “What did I say?”

“Fine. Dancer.”

She extended a warning finger in my face. “Don’t push it.”

I wrapped my hand around her finger and squeezed. I wanted her to wrap something else of hers around something of mine … but I definitely didn’t have the time. “We don’t control how much the dancers are paid,” I reminded her.

“But you exert control over the club owners,” she argued. “If you refused to send your gamblers to their clubs, the dancers would have a new contract within three days.”

“Yes, but nobody wants to be the first one to publicly make that proclamation,” I reminded her. “It will backfire when the judgmental family groups get involved.”

“It’s Vegas,” she persisted. “Nobody expects family friendly fun from the gambling mecca of the world. It’s not fair. Everybody makes jokes about Vegas being the most debauched place in the world and yet suddenly the dancers—who desperately need that money—are being held up to unrealistic standards that nobody else has to live up to.”

“I know. I didn’t say it was fair.”

“You could talk to your father,” she wheedled, batting her eyelashes.

That was as much of a punch to the gut as her naked dancing sessions in the kitchen after a round or two of sex were to my penis. “Let me feel him out,” was all I could say. “I’m guessing he’s going to want to talk about that situation. It all depends on his mood.”

“I guess I’ll have to take that as a win.” The sigh Olivia let loose was so dramatic it reminded me—albeit briefly—of the little kid with braces. “What do you think he wants to talk to you about?”

“I don’t know.” I slipped my hand under her robe and ran it over her shoulder. There was little I loved more than indulging in the softness of her skin. “As soon as I know, you’ll know.”

“Okay.” She straightened my tie for me, which tugged on heartstrings I didn’t even know I possessed. “Try to be home at a reasonable hour. I’ll have dinner for you.”

I was understandably dubious. “You’re cooking?” That sounded nothing like her.

She seared me with a dark expression. “I’m picking up takeout.”

“Oh, really?” I folded my arms across my chest. “What is it you’ll be serving up?”

“I guess you’ll have to wait to find out.” Her voice was low and full of teasing. “It will be tasty, though. I promise you that.”

“Well, now I have something to look forward to.”

She was in my arms in an instant, her mouth hovering in front of mine. “Don’t forget me.” She gave me a passionate kiss, full of tongue.

I was lost in her to the point I was really considering missing my meeting with my father when I pulled back. “This is torture,” I complained.

“And yet it will be worth it when dinner rolls around.”

“You’d better hold up your end of the bargain.” I gave her a friendly swat on her behind before releasing her.

“Don’t I always?” she asked on a giggle, which happened to be my favorite sound in the world.

“You most definitely do.”

THERE WAS YET ANOTHER NEW SECRETARY outside my father’s office when I arrived on his floor. My good mood—I was still floating on happiness after my “lunch”—crashed like a distressed plane. It was that one on Yellowjackets where everybody turned into cannibals after the fact. This time I decided to act on my annoyance.

“And you are?” I arched an eyebrow when the bottle blonde looked up from her phone, where she appeared to be perusing beauty tutorials. I only knew those were a thing because Olivia had led me to a channel run by my sisters and I realized that maybe they did a little more than plot my demise.

The secretary blinked. Then she blinked again. “I’m Candy,” she announced finally.

“Of course you are.” The only way the situation would’ve felt more absurd is if her name had been Petunia … or Lemon. Candy was almost as bad, though.

Candy might not have been as slow as my father’s previous two secretaries, because the gleam in her eyes told me she knew exactly what I was mocking when I said it. She clearly didn’t like it, either. “May I have your name?” she asked primly, her fingers poised over her keyboard. “Do you have business with Mr. Stone?”

The change in her demeanor would’ve made me smile under different circumstances. Heck, I wanted to laugh anyway. I managed to hold it together, though. Just barely.

“You can tell Mr. Stone that Mr. Stone is here to see him,” I replied.

Candy made an exasperated face. “Oh, right. Like I’m going to fall for that. There’s only one Mr. Stone.”

Ah, and there went my hope that she was deceptively smarter than she looked. “My name is Zachary,” I offered helpfully.

Candy didn’t respond. She just waited.

“My father’s name is Ryder,” I offered.

She still didn’t respond. “That’s my father’s office,” I practically exploded, pointing toward the open door where I was already supposed to be seated in front of my father.

“Oh.” Candy’s eyes went momentarily wide. “I didn’t realize.” She glanced over her shoulder, as if trying to put the last few pieces together. “I guess that makes sense. That explains why there’s more than one Mr. Stone.”

“Yes.” I refrained from patting her on the head like a goofy puppy. “May I go in?”

“Of course.” Candy’s smile was back. “Tell your father he has a tee time in exactly seventy-five minutes. Don’t let him be late.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” I assured her. “My father is never late for his tee times.”

There was no smile on my face as I marched into my father’s office.

“You’re late,” he announced, not looking up.

“That’s because your secretary couldn’t wrap her head around how there could possibly be two Mr. Stones.”

Dad raised his chin, seemingly thinking about it. Then he sighed. “I don’t think this one is going to last.”

“Do any of them last?” I challenged.

“No, but I keep hoping.” Dad’s gaze was studied as it roamed over me. “You look a little … windswept. Were you out somewhere?”

Well, that was a loaded question. “No, I had lunch with Olivia. We lost track of time. We were talking about a few things. I had to hurry over from the other tower.”

“Ah.” Dad’s expression was impossible to read. “You two seem … happy. Are things going well?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I mean … it’s a bit of an adjustment for Olivia to get used to living in a hotel. She seems pretty happy, though.”

“Why wouldn’t she be? She went from ordinary living circumstances to extraordinary in the blink of an eye.”

I gripped the arm of my chair, then reminded myself that my father had always been a jackass. He wasn’t really attacking Olivia. No, this was an attack on me. “Olivia is an extraordinary individual already,” I insisted. “I’m sorry you can’t see that.”

Dad held my gaze. He seemed to be looking for something specific. I gave him nothing as I simply stared back. Finally, he sighed. “You seem … more settled than you did even six weeks ago,” he admitted. “Apparently, married life suits you.”

“It does,” I agreed.

“I still don’t understand how you managed to hide it from your own family.”

Was that what was really bothering him? Was he annoyed because he thought I’d gotten one over on him? That would be so … Ryder Stone. “I already told you why we didn’t,” I reminded him.

“Yes. Rex is apparently too delicate to handle his sister dating his friend.”

“Rex is a good big brother who would die for his baby sister,” I countered. Not for the first time, guilt panged in my chest. If Rex knew what I was doing to his baby sister, he would rip my head off. Best not to think about that. I cleared my throat and forced myself to focus on the here and now. “I don’t blame him for wanting to protect her. She’s great.”

“And yet you didn’t want to protect your sisters when growing up,” Dad pointed out.

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because my sisters can protect themselves. Also, they’re older than me. I can’t protect what I’m afraid of. They’re like those women who have snakes for hair. I’ll turn to stone if I look them in the eye too long.”

For some reason, that struck my father as funny. “I never really thought about that,” he said on a half laugh. “It’s true, though.”

I joined in. It was rare that my father wanted to laugh with me rather than at me. His amusement ended almost as fast as it started, though.

“We need to talk.” He was grave as he hit a few buttons on his computer. “I saw the email you sent yesterday.”

It took me a moment to grasp what email he was referring to. “Oh, you mean the weird glitch that showed up two months in a row. The line item for Infinity Group being off.”

“Yes.” Dad bobbed his head. “I’m going to hand it over to the executive accounting team. You don’t have to worry about it. They’ll handle it from here on out.”

I opened my mouth, prepared to agree to his suggestion. Then I thought better of it. Since when did my father not want me to chase an accounting irregularity? Normally, he would insist I burn both ends of the candle just to find a nickel. This was thousands of dollars, and he didn’t seem to care. “But?—”

“It’s not important,” Dad insisted. “The executive team will reconcile it. That’s their job.”

“Okay,” was the only response I could come up with. “Whatever you want.” I watched him for a beat, but he was focused on his computer. “Is that all?” I asked finally. I couldn’t believe I’d given up an afternoon in bed with Olivia for this. I was already calculating how long it would take me to get back to the penthouse. There was a chance she wasn’t back in her street clothes yet.

Things were looking up.

“There is one other thing.” Dad tapped his keyboard twice and then gave me his full attention. “As you know, the Stone Group annual couple’s golf outing is next week.”

A shiver ran through me as I straightened. I was familiar with the event. It was my mother’s pride and joy. It was the one thing she took the time to organize herself. She turned it into a big ordeal for anybody she cared to invite.

I knew all of that through word of mouth. I’d never actually been invited before.

“Um…” Where was he going with this?

“Wipe that look off your face, Zachary,” Dad chided. “This isn’t some trap I’m trying to lure you into. There is no witch at the end of the pathway who wants to shove you in the oven and serve you to her guests.”

I blinked. “Well, that was a frightening visual,” I complained after a beat. “Did you have to say that?”

Dad laughed as if I’d said the funniest thing in the world. “You looked as if I suggested that you move in with Motley Crüe.”

“You’re dating yourself,” I warned him. “That band is older than I am.”

“If you say so.” Dad tapped his fingers on his desk. “Your mother expects you to go.”

“Where?” I asked blankly.

“To the golf tournament.”

Oh, was he being serious? “I’ve never gone to the golf tournament before,” I reminded him.

“You haven’t been in a couple before. Your mother believes—and I lack the wherewithal to argue with her—that the golf outing is a good event to launch Olivia on the media.”

That was not what I was expecting him to say. “We’re going to do what now?” I asked blankly.

“Your wife is a member of this family,” Dad reminded me. “That means she has to be present for our social events.”

“Yeah, but … this is golf.”

Dad merely blinked.

I tried again. “Olivia doesn’t play golf.” I was almost a hundred percent positive that was true.

Dad blinked some more.

“I’m not sure she’s going to be comfortable playing a game she’s never played before in front of the Las Vegas media,” I persisted when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to give me an out.

“It’s not as if anybody expects her to be a professional,” Dad argued. “In fact, if she flubs two shots and then just rides around with you in the cart for the rest of the day looking loved up and relaxed—tell her no more than two drinks, because there’s relaxed and sloppy, and we don’t do sloppy in this family—then that will be fine.”

I tried to picture Olivia’s face when I told her that a golf outing was expected. Nothing I came up with was good. “I’m just not sure she’s going to be okay with it,” I said finally.

“She’s your wife, Zachary.” Dad was stern now. “As your wife, she’s expected to come through for social events. Your mother understands that. Your wife is expected to understand it too.”

Irritation bubbled up, but I managed to keep it from exploding like lava all over my father. “Olivia wants more for herself than just being my wife, Dad,” I argued. “She has goals.”

“Really?” Dad didn’t look convinced. “She hasn’t done much of anything but raise a ruckus with the strippers since you two got married. I think she’s already achieved her goal.”

I recognized what he was getting at—he thought every woman was a gold digger—but I managed to keep my thoughts on the subject to myself. “I’ll talk to her,” I said, resigned.

“Good.” Dad’s smile was bland. “If that’s all…” He gestured toward the computer.

“Right.” I pushed myself to my feet. Suddenly, my legs felt heavy. The joy I’d felt at the idea of sneaking back to the penthouse for a second lunch—the hobbits had it going on there as far as I was concerned—was long gone. “I guess I’ll see you at the golf tournament.”

Dad nodded but didn’t say anything. Per usual, he’d already dismissed me.