Page 36 of When He Was Mine

“I’m sure you can.”

He closed his laptop and slid it into a soft black briefcase at his feet then stood up and came over to where I sat on the corner of the bed.

“You’re beautiful,” Oliver said as he stroked his knuckles over my face.

“How are we getting to the hotel?”

“I have a limo waiting. Let’s get buckled in. We should be landing shortly.”

I had never been to the Diamond Square Hotel before, and it was magnificent. The dark marble floors, inlaid with lighter tiles in a zigzag pattern, gleamed under the light of massive crystal chandeliers hanging from soaring tray ceilings. The décor epitomized opulence: rich mahogany-colored wood with gold accents lined the walls, and an entire bank of gold elevators dominated one wall.

Oliver walked up to the front desk and retrieved our keycards without needing to check in. The young woman in a blue uniform addressed him as Mr. Fox with a respectful nod. A bellboy, also in a matching uniform, took our bags, loading the two dark blue suitcases onto a cart. He escorted us to our room, navigating a long hallway lined with thick black carpet featuring a floral design.

Our suite spanned two floors, and I was immediately taken by the panoramic view of Seattle. Even through the fog, the city lights sparkled in the night. I pressed my hands against the thick glass windows, mesmerized, until Oliver's voice called me back to reality.

He stood at the granite bar, which was fully stocked with top-shelf liquor. Pouring himself a half glass of vodka, he dropped in some ice cubes from the freezer.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, noting the unusual choice of hard alcohol.

“I hate firing people,” he admitted, his expression troubled. “It’s part of the business, but I hate it.”

“Gabe deserves it. He’s stealing from you to the detriment of your employees,” I reminded him gently.

“I know,” Oliver sighed, swirling the ice in his glass. “I should be spitting mad, but Gabe’s worked for me for a while. Something must be wrong if he resorted to embezzlement.”

I walked over to him, placing a hand on his arm. “You’re a good man, Oliver. You care about your employees. That’s why this is hard for you.”

He gave me a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. It’s just... I thought I knew him. This betrayal stings.”

"So, what are you thinking?" I asked, watching the tension in Oliver's jaw as he swirled the vodka in his glass.

"I know he's stealing. That's a given. I want to know why," Oliver replied, his voice firm but thoughtful.

"Does Mr. Fox have a soft spot?" I teased, grinning. His empathy was one of the things I loved most about him.

He took a sip of his vodka and loosened his red tie. "I'm not a cold-hearted bastard. You should know that by now."

"What will you do?" I asked, genuinely curious about his next move.

"I want to talk to him privately," he said, setting his glass down with a decisive thud.

"If that's what your gut is telling you, then do it."

"It is. I want to know the reason."

"Does that mean arrest is off the table?" I asked.

"That depends on what he has to tell me. I'll know if he's lying," Oliver replied, his eyes hardening with resolve.

I moved closer and slid my arms inside his jacket, hugging him tightly.

"I like having you with me. It's soothing," he said.

"Does that mean if I wasn't, you would be a bastard?" I teased.

"Possibly," he said, a smile breaking through his stern expression. He kissed me on the top of my head and took another sip of his vodka.

"I need a shower and something to eat," I said.

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