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Chapter 1
I woke from a deep, dreamless sleep, my arm instinctively reaching out to find the bed beside me empty. The last thing I remembered was Oliver’s voice, sharp and angry, carrying from the other room as he spoke on the phone. I had drifted off before I could grasp the details.
“Oliver?” I called out, my voice still groggy.
“Yes, sweetheart?” His response was immediate. My heart swelled as his handsome face appeared in the doorway, his sandy hair damp from a recent shower.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” I asked, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.
“You were exhausted,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “Probably from all the travel.”
“Or maybe because you keep me up,” I teased, a playful smirk tugging at my lips.
His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I keep you up? You’re not exactly innocent in that department. It’s not always me who starts things.”
“You know what I mean,” I replied, raising an eyebrow. “I might need to go back to sleeping at my apartment one night a week just to catch up on rest.”
“Why would you do that?” he asked, crossing the room to sit beside me. “We’re doing great together.”
“So I can sleep,” I said, poking his arm.
He chuckled softly. “Admit it, you sleep better with me next to you.”
I sighed, knowing he was right. Since my father’s murder, nightmares had haunted me, but with Oliver beside me, they had mostly subsided. “Yes, I do.”
“What's on the agenda today?” I asked, pushing the plush white quilt off me. The bed at Hotel SW Los Angeles was so comfortable it felt like sleeping on a cloud.
“We’re meeting one of the developers and touring the property. It’s a mess, so no heels today,” he instructed.
“That’s all I brought, except for my sneakers,” I protested.
“Then wear those,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“With a business suit?” I said with a raised aeyebrow.
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Ryleigh, lots of women wear sneakers with business wear. Trust me, you don’t want to be stuck in heels on a construction site.”
“If I wear heels, you’ll just have to carry me,” I teased.
He laughed, shaking his head. “That might be fun, but definitely unprofessional. Sneakers, please.”
I stuck my tongue out at him, and he chuckled. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to stick your tongue out unless you plan to use it?”
“Come here, and I will,” I purred.
“Tempting, but we’ve got an hour to get ready. Go shower. Breakfast is waiting.”
I grumbled as I stood up, opening the thick white terry robe Oliver had wrapped me in the night before. For good measure, I let it slip off my shoulders, hoping to entice him into joining me in the shower like he had the night before. But Oliver just smiled and turned away, leaving me to wash alone, my desire unquenched but the promise of a busy day ahead.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Oliver was already dressed, looking effortlessly dapper in a sharp graphite suit, a crisp white shirt, and a black tie. As handsome as he was naked, clothed he was breathtaking. The tailored suit highlighted his muscular, lean frame, and his jacket sleeves strained slightly against his biceps as he moved, a sight I never grew tired of.
He sipped his coffee, engrossed in a report. On the table next to him was an almost empty plate, the remnants of his breakfast, and a small silver dome covering my meal. I lifted it to reveal a perfectly cooked cheddar cheese omelet, a side of fresh fruit salad, and crispy bacon. He knew me so well.
“Thank you,” I said, settling into the chair opposite him.
“For?” He glanced up, his eyes warm and curious.
“For breakfast. For the job. For you... just everything.”
