Chapter 27

twenty-seven

Tav

There’s still so much I want to know, but I hadn’t been able to listen to more of it. I hadn’t been able to look at her, so innocent and beautiful across the table from me, and hear about my brother traumatizing her.

My brother.

Christ.

I don’t think I’ve ever known anger like I know it now. I don’t know how someone like her could come from a family like ours. She’d been surrounded by flesh eating monsters her whole life, and somehow, she was still soft. Still gracious. Still exquisite.

She’s a miracle.

She’s a gorgeous, hypnotic miracle, who still isn’t sure if she trusts me, considering the look of hesitation in her eyes as I open the passenger door to offer her my hand. When she gives hers to me, something inside my chest—the heart I’m realizing beats exclusively for her—thunders triumphantly.

I might not have her full trust, but I have enough of it. I have enough to capture the rest, and right now, that’s all that matters.

The sun is setting, casting a golden glow through the living space as I stop in the kitchen, pouring a glass of champagne for her, a rum and coke for me. I find it adorably entertaining how someone who loathes pop because of the bubbles can love champagne so much. She’s a beautiful contradiction. Everything about her. From where she came from and who she became to the fact she loves bubbly wine and dislikes soda.

With a chin-lift, I gesture to the patio.

Olympia gives the teardrop swing a longing look before sitting next to me on the sofa. “You don’t seem like a teardrop swing kinda guy.”

“I’m not.”

Tension overtakes her body. “Was it—a girlfriend who chose it?”

“Nevaeh.” My answer has her brows lifting. I chuckle. “First time she saw my place, she stood out here with her hands on her hips, scowling. Told me my furniture looked like something a twenty-year-old boy who worked two jobs and was studying in school plucked from yard sales. She said it was not the furniture a man, established in his career, has.”

“So, you bought new furniture?”

“I paid for it. Nevaeh picked it.” I feel my eyes narrow on her face. “If you don’t like it, you can get something else. Anything else.”

Her eyes slide to me, that furrow between her brows I can’t help but want to kiss away. “I like it just fine.”

Taking her hand in mine, I revel in the way it swallows hers. I’m so much bigger than her, and she’s so beautifully delicate.

Again, I think of Remira and the others hurting her. Toying with her. Threatening her.

Anger simmers in my gut and I try to douse it with a swallow of my drink. It doesn’t work. Not really, anyhow. “This is your home, Olympia. If you don’t like something, change it.”

“This is my home?”

“Yes.”

“Since when?”

“Since the minute you first arrived.” I grin at the incredulous widening of her blue eyes. “I just needed some time to get used to the idea.”

She snorts but settles into the cushion next to me. I let go of her hand to drop my arm around the back of the sofa, my hand resting on the soft bare skin of her shoulder.

After long minutes of silence, Olympia relaxes. “I feel like I’ve fallen into a bubble and at any moment, it’ll burst.”

I’m the reason she feels that way. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re making my head spin. Seriously, Tav, I have whiplash.”

“I was so angry, Olympia,” I admit softly, feeling her eyes on me. “I’ve been so angry for years. When you arrived, I was struck by how beautiful you were. When you asked me to sully you, to wreck and ruin you—my blood got hot—not only with anger. And that pissed me off even more, because how, after everything that happened, was I hot for a Laurier?”

“I never did anything wrong.”

“I know that.” My thumb continues to caress her shoulder. “I knew that, but I couldn’t separate it. I wasn’t capable of thinking rationally through all the anger and hurt. And then when you brought up my mom’s will—that anger just got worse.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, shame drenching her shaky words.

“It’s okay. I always suspected something happened to make Mom give everything to Abe. It didn’t make sense. I just didn’t think her lawyer would alter the will—forge it.”

“If it’s any consolation, I think Remira and Abe threatened him. They all used to be good friends, but I haven’t seen Mr. Green in ages.”

I feel my jaw tighten. “That doesn’t excuse what he’s done.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she agrees softly.

There’s a beat of silence as she nibbles her lip. She wants to say something, so I urge, “Whatever it is, Princess, say it.”

She shifts her body toward mine. “What are you going to do now?”

“Are you asking what I plan to do to our families?” She nods, her eyes pinned to mine, breath lodged in her lungs as she waits. I give it to her straight. “I’m going to destroy them all.” When she does nothing but continue to stare at me, gently, I ask, “You okay with that?”

Slowly, she nods. “Yes.”

“You’re okay with me ruining your family?”

“I’m okay with you ruining the people who spent years hurting and tormenting me, yes.”

“And the Laurier name?”

She juts her little chin. “They never had a right to that name. My grandmother was a queen. She was kind and brilliant and everything they aren’t.” Tears of emotion sparkle in her eyes. “Watching Ophelia do what she did broke her heart. She was so disappointed, I don’t think she ever spoke to Ophelia again, not even the day she died.” She sniffs. “I still hold the Laurier name. I plan to work my butt off to do as I know she would have wanted me to do, and head Laurier Lines. So, they’ll drag the name through the mud, sure. But I won’t let them bury it. I won’t let them tarnish everything Grandma worked for like that.”

I don’t tell her she won’t hold the Laurier name long. I don’t tell her that, soon, I’ll make sure she proudly wears the name my mother gave me. Instead, I simply say, “Laurie Laurier would be proud of you.”

Finally, that glistening tear in her beautiful eyes falls. It streaks like glass over her face, and I can’t help myself as I catch her face in my hands. My thumbs wipe away the emotion before I touch my lips to hers in a kiss, I desperately want her to feel in the bottomed-out depths of her soul.

I want her to feel me in all the hidden parts of her, because somewhere along the way, without even trying, she burrowed deep into me.

Against her soft lips, I confess, “I love you, Olympia Laurier.”

Her lips tremble in a moment of hesitation before she confesses, “I’ve always loved you, Tav.”

I don’t think. I just lift her into my arms and carry her to my room. Our bed.

It’s time I worship my woman.