Chapter 1

1

OLIVER

" H ow many times do I have to say no to you bastards?! What do I have to fucking do to make you all stop coming and harassing me? I am not selling!"

Olivia Lang rears her arms back and throws a couple of things from inside a basket. Something small and black flies through the air without warning and lands on my face. The silk fabric is cool and smooth, caressing my skin.

I fully expected different kinds of welcome. This is not one of them.

I stand there blinking, the ‘thing' tickling my nose.

When the moment of disorientation clears, my fingers brush against it as I reach to take it off my face.

Her thong. Her fucking sexy, covers-barely-anything thong. It's smaller than my pocket square, making me wonder what kind of purpose this serves.

I'm more partial to having her pussy cover half of my face, but I guess this is the next best thing.

The first thought that springs to mind is that silk feels so good on the skin. I knew that because my housekeeper insisted on nothing but the eighty-dollar-apiece silk pillowcases for my bedroom. But I always sleep on my back, so I never got to feel it on my face … until now.

The second thought I have is … it's clean underwear. Weird that part of me feels disappointed because I much prefer something she's used. Something that smells like her.

I fist the tiny garment before shoving it into my pocket.

Olivia's breath catches in her throat, her eyes wide and unblinking and her face a mask of sheer terror. Blood drains from her cheeks, leaving her tanned, freckled skin looking almost ghostly pale.

The laughter threatening to burst out of me catches me off-guard. There's nothing funny about this situation. Not her anger or shock. Not my sudden, unexplainable attraction toward her.

For the first time in my years of tough negotiating, I'm overcome with what I can only describe as amusement. I have to press my lips tightly together and glance around her wraparound porch, the array of plant boxes, a rickety rocking chair on one side, and a swing on the other.

"W-why are you pocketing my panties?" she stutters, her eyebrows knitted together in disbelief or confusion or both.

"It's mine now." I don't know where those words come from, but it feels right to say in the moment. Mine. Hmm. It slides off my tongue easily, and I don't even take my eyes off her when I say it.

Everything about this interaction so far has me mentally reeling, like I'm unsure of where I stand, like the ground sways underneath me.

I don't dislike it.

Olivia seems to find it as bizarre as I do, but it doesn't take long before her fire comes roaring back. She stands to her full height—all five feet of her in a loose shirt and men's shorts no less—and raises her chin defiantly at me. She has to tip her head back a bit more because I'm a full foot taller.

Cute.

"You can take those panties, but not our land. I speak for everyone else when I say, ‘Go to hell.'"

A sweet turn of events, I must say. "Miss Lang, I'm here to negotiate. My company doesn't ‘take' things. We buy them."

Her face flushes, making the smattering of freckles across her full cheeks and button nose more prominent. Her eyes flare, and for someone small, she manages to make me want to stagger back.

Damn, being on the receiving end of her ire is not my idea of fun.

"You say ‘negotiate' like I haven't said no multiple times to at least five lawyers. You come here with your lawyer jargon and think, ‘Oh, these island people are stupid. I just need to throw them some money, and they'll be on their merry way to the mainland.'" Olivia's chest heaves, and she jabs a finger at me. "I am not selling. My family isn't selling. Our neighbors aren't selling. You can take your money and shove it up you?—"

"Olivia, don't say ass."

The one speaking is an older version of Olivia hovering by the doorway. Her hair is a mix of black and gray, but she has the same eyes as Olivia. She's also just as short.

Olivia whips her head to the older woman. "Mom, I'm twenty-three. I can say ass whenever I want."

"Okay, but not in this household."

Olivia snaps her eyes shut and breathes through her mouth, her hand pushing her curly bangs from her forehead. "Listen, sir. I've tried to be as civil as I could, but every few days, your men show up, tell me I'm making a wrong decision, and promise another one will be back. Doesn't that count as harassment?"

"It does."

She's surprised I agreed with her. I had no idea, though. When my older brother, Paul, told me to negotiate her prices, I didn't know he'd already sent the whole acquisition team beforehand. For some reason I can neither understand nor explain, rage bubbles within me. I know those guys and some of them I'll gladly punch in the face.

I don't even want to imagine all the lengths they've gone through to ‘convince' Olivia to sign. If I find out any of them crossed a line, I might just fly back tonight and make them swallow their teeth.

I am always the company's last resort. I am who my brother sends when it's time to bring in the big guns—namely, me. My methods aren't always aboveboard, and bullying and intimidation are never beyond me. It's a tested and proven method, with me getting what I want every single time.

It's something I also refuse to do to Olivia. Which makes me a hypocrite. Sue me.

Her rosy lips tremble slightly, and it's enough to make me stiffen. We're not close enough, but I've always been exceptional at noticing the slightest change in demeanor with whoever I'm negotiating with.

And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Olivia's close to her breaking point. One wrong word and this fa?ade of strength will crumble down. Those eyes shining with unshed tears will spill over her cheeks.

Fuck. Why does my chest feel funny? Why does my head pound at the mere thought of doing what she doesn't want me to? I've never felt this way ever, not when I'm facing both helpless and ruthless opponents.

Maybe because Olivia is neither, and I find that I want to do everything in my power to protect her from being hurt. Even if that's what my brother specifically sent me here to do—acquire their property at all costs.

Clearing my throat, I shove my hands into my pockets to stop myself from reaching out and comforting her when my very presence is the one making her upset. "Listen, Miss Lang. How about this? I would like a seven-day tour around the island, with you as my guide of course. I'll even pay you for your time."

Olivia exchanges a confused glance with her mother and a small girl with similar features to both of them. When Olivia turns to face me, she tilts her head to the side, eyeing me up and down, her face morphing from fury to suspicion. "Why?"

I give her a shrug. "Because I want to understand why you won't give it up. I want to understand why you turned down an offer that most people would readily agree to." For half a second, I let my gaze drop to her full lips, wondering if it's as pillowy soft as it looks. "If you can convince me, I'll leave you alone and find another way to make do with the patch of land we do own."

"I don't need to convince you of anything. This is ours. You want to buy it. I said no. End of story."

"True, but with my brother as the head of this project, I cannot promise you he won't send another one in my stead if I don't at least make a great case for leaving you alone."

Even as the words leave my mouth, I'm shocked at myself. I had files of all the residents who refused to sell, and I brainstormed for ten hours until I came up with a game plan. It was solid, foolproof, and guaranteed to get me the results I needed.

But apparently, one look at Olivia and all those plans disintegrate into dust.

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, a faraway look in her eyes. I can almost see the gears turning in her head. She has zero reason to trust me, and I honestly can't blame her.

I came here with one purpose, but it's like something shifted in me, pushing me toward a new and entirely different goal—make her mine. How I'm gonna do that, I have no idea. Gunning down a different road than where I originally planned is giving me a whiplash.

"Okay, I'll do it." Olivia's voice is hard when she finally returns her gaze to me, and my God, I can drown in those depths. Those twin orbs make me think of warm honey, and that's exactly how it feels staring at her—like the radiating sun seeps into my veins.

"You have a deal." I extend a hand to her, but she puts her hands behind her and raises her chin again.

"Not so fast. I just feel the need to warn you in advance." Her forehead furrows, the sides of her mouth curling downward. "If you try anything funny, just be aware that I know 101 ways to kill you and no one would ever find out."

"Olivia!" Her mom covers her mouth with her palms, and she shakes her head. "Don't go too far."

Olivia doesn't break eye contact with me even as she addresses her. "It's fine, Mom. He should know better than to think I'd go down without a fight. My father taught me how to fight men like you. I can scratch your eyeballs in the second it takes for you to blink."

Jesus Christ. She thinks she's scaring me, but all she does is turn me on. Yet I believe her. She's a spitfire, this one. And goddammit if it doesn't make me want to conquer her.

"I understand, Miss Lang," I tell her.

She tips her head gracefully. "Good because this is my island. You'd do well to remember that."

I expect some micro-aggressions during the ‘tour', but I'm wrong. Very wrong. Olivia is downright aggressive, and she doesn't even try to hide it or make her attempts subtle.

For the past hour, she's subjected me to alternating rounds of sarcasm, insults, and commentaries that border on rude. She's doing it on purpose, and I've never felt this much entertainment in my life.

This is our first stop, and the salty sea breeze whips against my face as I make my way up the rocky cliff. Obviously, I don't have hiking boots on, and the closest thing to it is a pair of sneakers I borrowed from my assistant. Is it comfortable? Fuck no. But it's still better than the dress shoes I have. Olivia has been making fun of my slacks as it is.

Meanwhile, she looks stunning in a pair of denim cutoff shorts, a crop top, and flip-flops. She looks so effortlessly beautiful, I can feel my heart constrict each time I steal a glance at her.

"If your goal was to kill me on the way up," I say breathlessly, "then you're halfway there. I haven't lost my breath like this since tenth grade when my teacher made me run ten laps for snacking in the middle of class."

She almost smiles but thinks better of it. Huh. I've never been the funny type, but I'll bend over backward if that means I can pull one of those rare grins from her. "I told you I could kill you 101 ways."

"You did. I can't say I'm excited to learn about the other 100."

"You don't know the half of it, sir."

Sir. That single word makes my loins tighten with primal lust. "My name is Oliver."

She casts me an amused gaze. "Okay, sir."

Goddamn, Olivia is stubborn. I fucking like it.

"You know, Olivia, fuck my ego. Let me sit first." I sink into the massive boulder, feeling the cool, rough surface beneath me. The muscles in my legs twitch with fatigue—something I plan to bring up to my gym trainer when I get back.

Olivia sits across from me on a smaller boulder. She rests her palms on either side of her and lifts her face to the sky, the wind tugging at her short curly hair.

I sit there, wondering if I should kiss her, paint her, or just continue gawking like a creep. I choose the last option. I trace her jaw, slender neck, the freckles on her chest, the small rounds of her breast accentuated by the thin fabric, and her smooth, toned legs.

The view here is breathtaking—the horizon stretching out endlessly, the white caps of the waves sparkling in the sunlight, boats dotting the water below us—but it still has nothing on her.

Olivia Lang is a vision. The more I stare, the more I can't look away … until I feel something stirring to life against my zipper.

Fuck me. I need a distraction.

"Olivia, talk to me. Tell me why you don't want to sell and explain everything to me like I'm a five-year-old."

"Well, your predecessors were worse than five-year-olds. At least kids understand what no means."

"Lies. My assistant has a three-year-old. You tell her she can't eat chocolates, she'll spend the next five minutes stuffing her face with it."

Olivia bites her lower lip, trying to stifle a laugh. "Fair point."

At first, she doesn't say anything else, just closes her eyes and sighs. Then, she sits straighter and rests her palms on her lap. "Okay since you're the first one to actually ask instead of demanding I hand our land to you in exchange for money."

Our lawyers did that? Shit. I will have a lengthy discussion with them when I get back, which is again hypocritical since I might have done the same if it wasn't her. "I'm sorry for what they did to you and your family."

"And the rest of our neighbors."

"And the rest of your neighbors."

Olivia waves it off and looks at a point behind me. "I know it's just a piece of property to you and your multi-billion company. To me, my mom, and my sister, it's more than that." She bites her bottom lip again and blinks quickly. "It's the only thing we have left of Dad."

I don't interrupt or even breathe so noisily because I can tell this is important to her. Plus, I need to understand her, so I can make my case to my brother. It wasn't a lie when I told her that. Paul is bullheaded, but I can make him listen to reason.

"We're not rich, obviously. But Dad … he did everything to provide for our family. He worked to the bone—waking up before the sun rose and coming home past dinner time. We used to live in an apartment complex on the mainland that was like one storm away from collapsing." One side of her mouth lifts, and her eyes soften. "And one day, he came home earlier than usual and broke the news that he bought a land by the beach."

Olivia raises her gaze to me, and what I see there has blood roaring in my ears, my pulse pumping wildly, and the raw need to be with her overriding all my other senses. "You have to understand, we've never owned anything, so that was a huge deal. A few months later, we moved here and each of us, even little Samantha, helped build the shack you saw yesterday."

The shack. I'm not gonna lie. It's no bigger than my entire penthouse apartment, but it's charming and cozy. Even the weathered wooden exterior with its peeling yellow paint and a thin layer of moss on the roof.

It's beautiful from the outside. I can only imagine what I'll find inside.

"You can offer me ten million, and I'll still say no. There's nothing, absolutely nothing, you can say or do to make me decide otherwise." Olivia stands and fixes her top. "So I'm sorry if you came all this way for nothing. I will never change my mind. You'd have to kill me first."

Olivia crosses her arms over her chest, but she no longer looks angry or defensive. She's trying her best to make me understand and see everything from her point of view. Surprisingly, I do. "I work as a cook on the mainland while Mom sells her artwork online. We don't make a lot, just enough, and we still won't sell. Our neighbors too. The money you offer is life-changing for all of us, but you have to understand, Oliver, some things just don't have a price. That includes our homes."

I believe her, and I know my job here is done. Even so, I refuse to jump on the plane and leave. I still don't understand this magnetic draw toward her, but I get this feeling it's not something I should ignore.

"Sometimes, Oliver, you just know. There's no logic or sense or any explanation behind it, but your heart knows what's right for you. Whether it's a blessing or a tragedy, you'd have to decide for yourself."

That's what Mom told me when I was thirteen and we were on a vacation in Greece. It was one of the last things she said before we lost her.

I've known Olivia Lang for all of twenty-four hours, but leaving her and this island is the furthest thing from my mind. I will stay here and woo her if it's the last thing I do.

I open my mouth to suggest we go down to eat when she slips on a rock and her arms pinwheel. I manage to hold her waist before she loses her balance, and she ends up sitting awkwardly on my lap.

The air between us thickens, and every other sound fades. My heart races, sweat sliding down my back. My one hand rests on her thigh, and the other just under her boob.

Instead of smacking my face or yelling for help, her mouth opens slightly, and her eyes turn glassy.

I lift a hand and graze her jaw with my finger, stopping below her bottom lip, which trembles slightly. "If you wanted to sit on me, all you had to do was ask. No need to go through all this trouble."