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"I'm finished. I think an hour is enough for the day."
He raised an eyebrow. "You work out almost two with Brad."
"Brad's a sadist," I retorted with a smirk.
Oliver laughed, the sound warm and comforting. "True. But he's effective."
As we made our way back to the elevator, I felt a surge of gratitude for Oliver's persistence. Despite the early hour, I knew that these moments together were what made our relationship strong. And the promise of dinner after work was just the cherry on top.
“But you have to admit he’s gotten you into tip top shape.”
“I can’t deny it but his methods are torturous.”
Oliver chuckled. I was soaked with sweat and my bra was stained dark with it. I couldn’t wait to get in the shower.
“What’s this?” Oliver waved a paper in front of me, his tone sharp and displeased.
I glanced up from my computer, startled by the sudden confrontation. “It looks like a bill from Kincaid Lighting.”
He dropped it on my desk, jabbing a finger at the total at the bottom of the invoice. “It looks like an over-budget bill. We didn’t discuss spending this much on lighting. Why do we need a chandelier in the lobby?”
“You gave me free rein on choosing fixtures,” I replied, trying to keep my voice calm.
“Free rein on design, not price. You went twenty percent over budget for lighting.”
“But I was almost seventeen percent under for flooring,” I countered, feeling my frustration rise.
He began pacing my office, teeth gritted, his agitation palpable. “How can I make you understand that when a budget is set, you have to stick to it?”
I frowned, the tension between us thickening. “You’re being a dick right now.”
“I’m running a business. I thought you were better than this,” he shot back, his eyes flashing with anger.
I pointed at him. “Fuck you, Oliver. This is a high-end residence. The chandelier looks beautiful. You haven’t even been to the property lately. I don’t remember getting any praise when I saved on flooring.”
His pacing slowed. “That’s not the point. It’s about communication and staying within our agreed limits.”
I stood up, facing him squarely. “And it’s about trusting my judgment. I made a decision that enhances the property’s value. If you can’t see that, maybe you should visit the site and see for yourself before jumping down my throat.” I held my hands up. “You know what, fuck it. You want to take over, it’s yours. I wash my hands of it. Asshole.”
Oliver glared at me as I grabbed my purse, smoothed my black pencil skirt, and brushed past him. My face was heated with anger. He reached out to grab my arm, but I wrenched it away and headed toward my closed office door. Before I could get it open, he was on me, pressing his body against mine.
"Leave me alone. I need to cool off," I snapped, trying to keep my voice steady.
"I'm sorry," he whispered in my ear, sending chills down my spine.
"Sorry for what? It seems I’m the one that fucked up," I retorted, my voice tinged with bitterness.
"You didn’t. You’re right. The building is high-end and needed something like the chandelier in the lobby," he admitted softly.
I sagged against him, the fight draining out of me. I hated arguing with Oliver, but he made it seem like I was incompetent. "I didn’t ask you because you were traveling. I didn’t think I had to. We have a contingency budget of ten percent that we haven’t touched. This building didn’t have any major issues."
"I know. You saved us money," he conceded.
"Then what’s your problem?" I demanded, turning to face him.
"Nothing," he muttered, moving away and plopping down on the sofa near my desk. He looked exhausted, and I recalled hearing him yelling at someone on the phone earlier in the day. I went to sit in my office chair, placing my purse on the desk.
"Oliver, what’s the matter? Did something happen?" I asked, my tone softening.
