Page 41 of Wicked God
“Yes, actually. How did you know?”
I shrug. “Just a guess. It seems like something you’d do—turn your pain into something beautiful.”
She smiles, a real, luminous smile. “You’re more perceptive than I gave you credit for, Alexander Hawthorne.”
As we exit the museum and step back into the sunlight, I find myself gazing at Olivia, her turquoise dress now kissed by the sun and her blonde hair glistening with hints of gold. Our morning together has been perfect in every way—the crisp morning air, the vibrant colors of the art, and now, I don’t want it to end.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, hoping to extend our time together just a little longer. “There’s a little café nearby. It has the most amazing sandwiches and pastries.”
Olivia’s eyes light up, the smile on her face growing even wider. “I’m famished. Lead the way.”
On the way to the café, she turns to me with a thoughtful expression. “How are you holding up, Alex?” she asks. “Has your father mentioned anything about Tiffany or the engagement? Your first meeting is supposed to be in just ten days...”
My chest tightens at her words. My father’s silence on the matter has been weighing on me, but I’ve been trying to push it to the back of my mind. “He hasn’t said a word,” I admit, my gaze drifting to the shimmering water beside us. “It’s unsettling.”
Olivia squeezes my hand gently, and I wonder if it’s for the benefit of any watching eyes or if there’s genuine concern behind the gesture. “That must be difficult.”
I nod, lost in thought. Is my father delaying until the last possible moment to spring this on me, just as he did with Elena? The memory of feeling trapped, cornered into a decision I wasn’t ready to make, resurfaces with alarming clarity.
“He might be waiting until the last second. It’s a tactic he’s used before.”
Olivia’s brow furrows, but she doesn’t press for details. Instead, we duck into a quaint café nestled along the riverbank. The soft tinkling of a bell announces our arrival, and I guide Olivia to a cozy corner table with a view of the glistening water.
“This place is charming,” Olivia remarks, her eyes scanning the rustic interior.
I pull out her chair, savoring the moment. “I thought you might like it. I always wanted to come in, but never had a chance.”
As we settle in, I lean in closer, lowering my voice. “I hope you don’t mind staying a bit longer. I’d like to delay my return to the office as much as possible.”
Olivia’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “Playing hooky, Mr. Hawthorne? How scandalous.”
“The company won’t fall apart without me for a few hours.”
Our waiter arrives, and we order a spread of pastries and coffee. As he leaves, Olivia’s expression turns mischievous.
“Cassandra mentioned something interesting about you.”
I raise an eyebrow, slightly apprehensive. “Oh? Do I want to know?”
She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “She said you were quite the playboy back in the day. Care to elaborate?”
I chuckle, running a hand through my hair. “Ah, that. Well, it’s not a secret. It was my way of rebelling, I suppose. My father had this image of me as the perfect church-going son. It drove him crazy when I started going out all the time, partying with friends, and dating around.”
Olivia tilts her head. “And you enjoyed pushing his buttons?”
“More than I should have,” I admit. “It wasn’t just about having fun. It was about reclaiming some control over my life. Every wild night out was a middle finger to his carefully crafted plans for me.”
Olivia’s expression softens, and she reaches across the table, her fingers brushing mine. The touch sends a spark through me, and I lean in closer.
“I understand that need for control,” she says quietly. “After our parents died, my entire world had been turned upside down. Suddenly, I was responsible for Tiffany. She was so young, so scared. I had to be strong for her, you know?”
I listen as Olivia shares stories of their childhood: late nights helping Tiffany with homework, bickering with their uncle over his attempts to control their lives, and celebrating small victories. With each word, I fall deeper, drawn in by her strength and compassion.
“You’re an amazing sister,” I tell her, meaning every word.
Olivia ducks her head. “I just did what I had to do. Tiffany’s happiness and future became my priority.”
I can’t help but marvel at the woman before me. Her determination and selflessness are unlike anything I’ve encountered in my world of political maneuvering and social climbing.
