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I looked up to see Oliver’s stare fixed on Dillon’s hand. One of the fading marks had started to ooze blood.
“No,” Dillon said.
“I need to use the restroom; would you like to powder your nose?” Oliver said to me.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I would.”
I grabbed my purse and Callan and James stood as I got up. They were polite; I wish their sons had the same respect. Oliver placed his hand on my back and navigated me to a hallway that held the bathrooms as well as another door that led into a large office. This is where he brought me. His face was bright red and I knew he figured out what happened between Dillon and me.
“That motherfucker put his hands on you?” Oliver growled, his eyes dark with anger.
I nodded, feeling a mix of frustration and discomfort. “He’s an asshole. He put his hand on my leg.”
“I have to say something to Callan and James. Their sons are out of control, and I won’t have them disrespecting you. I told you if they did anything, I would handle it immediately,” he said, his tone firm and resolute.
“You have a good relationship with Callan and James. I don’t want to get in the middle,” I protested.
“I don’t give a shit. You come first,” he declared, his protective instincts kicking in.
“What are you going to do?” I asked, feeling a bit anxious about the potential fallout.
“I’ll tell them you’re not feeling well and let them finish dinner,” he replied, his jaw clenched with determination. “But I’ll speak with Callan and James privately tomorrow. No one touches my fiancée and gets away with it.”
“I’m sorry to cause trouble,” I sniffled, feeling guilty for the conflict.
“It’s not your fault. You need to be assertive in business, or these guys will eat you alive,” he reassured me, his hand gentle on my shoulder.
“Maybe you should put me in the PR department. I’m not cut out for this cutthroat stuff,” I suggested, feeling a bit defeated.
“It comes with experience. Let’s go home,” he said, his voice softening as he guided me away from the table.
We returned to the table, and Oliver informed the Ryders that I wasn’t feeling well. Dillon scowled when I glanced at him, as if I had done something wrong. I couldn’t wait to get away from him. Oliver didn’t bother to shake his or Rick’s hand, instead telling Callan and James, he would see them in his office the next morning.
I felt nauseous when I got home and went to the bedroom to undress. Oliver was paging through his mail before he came into the closet.
“Sweetheart, are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I just want to take it easy.”
Oliver removed his suit and placed it in the dry-cleaning bag to give to the concierge. It was nice not to need to go to the dry cleaner, yet another thing I liked about living in a full-service building. After I got settled in bed, my cell vibrated with an incoming call.
As I collapsed onto the bed, trying to quell the nausea roiling in my stomach, my phone buzzed. Seeing Sadie’s name flash on the screen, I quickly answered.
"Sadie, how are you?" I asked, forcing cheerfulness into my voice.
A soft sniffle came from the other end, making my stomach twist even tighter. "What's wrong?"
"I had a fight with Finley," she said, her voice shaky and full of tears.
"About what?"
"He's angry with me," her voice broke.
"That's obvious. Over what?"
"I'm pregnant."
I bolted upright so fast that I startled Oliver, who had just slipped into bed beside me. He stared at me, wide-eyed, as I gripped the phone tighter.
