Page 111 of Oliver
Proof that even while we were hiding behind the contract, Oliver Beck’s love had been stronger than his rules, breaking through the barriers of his denial.
Even when he should have been resenting me.
Even while he was telling himself he was only using me.
I reached for my phone again, but this time I scrolled to Emmet's number instead of Oliver's.
He answered on the second ring, his voice cautious. "I was wondering when I’d hear from you."
Straight to the point. No fanfare, no bullshit.
"How is he?" I asked, following Emmet’s lead.
Emmet sighed, the sound heavy with concern. "Not good. He's functioning, if that's what you're asking. Teaching his classes, grading papers. But that's about it."
"He's not answering my calls."
"He's not answering anyone's," Emmet said. "Not me, not Tobias. He communicates with short messages. Factual, bland.”
“I mean, that’s not entirely out of character.”
Emmet chuckled softly, devoid of any real humor. “With you, maybe. But he hasn’t called me Quark since he got back.”
“Fuck,” I muttered. It was worse than I thought.
“Yeah.” Emmet scoffed. “The only times he leaves the apartment are for work or..."
"Or what?"
There was a pause, and I could almost see Emmet weighing his words. "Or for bookings."
I sat up straighter. "He's still doing those?"
"Not as much as before, but he hasn't quit Foxy’s. Says he needs the money, but honestly?" Another sigh. "I think it's the only thing that feels normal to him right now. Structured. Safe."
Something clicked in my mind, pieces falling into place. Of course. Oliver functioned within structures, within rules. He'd created an entire identity around them, a shield against the unpredictability of real connection.
" I think I’ve figured out how to get him to talk to me.".
"Zahra..." Emmet's voice held a warning. "Oliver is fragile right now. And I’ve already told you—he isn’t as strong as he pretends to be, most of all when it comes to you."
"I'm worried about him, Emmet," I said, my voice cracking slightly. "He left me a voicemail a couple of days ago and…” A shuddery breath escaped from between my lips. “I've never heard him like that." I glanced at my laptop screen, still displaying the folder. "Ineedto see him."
The line went quiet for a moment. Then Emmet spoke, his voice softer. "Forty-five-minute introductory dates. He always accepts those."
"Thank you," I whispered.
"Don't hurt him, Zahra," Emmet said, not unkindly, but the fear in his voice was unmistakable. "Whatever's happening between you two, just... I don’t know how much more he can take before..."
He trailed off, leaving me to fill in the blanks with terrifying possibilities.
Twenty minutes later, my fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling so badly I could barely type.
On the screen: a fake profile.
Katherine Reynolds. Polished, vague, safe.
The profile photo I’d chosen was some stock image of a woman with dark curls and a vague smile. She looked nice. Forgettable.
