Page 47 of Wicked God
She rolls her eyes, but I can tell she’s charmed. “Go before I make you late. I want you to think about me all day.”
She’s still smiling when I finally leave, her face the last thing I see before the door clicks shut behind me.
The corridors of my building are quieter than they should be for nine a.m. I move through them on autopilot, waving absently at the doorman, nodding to the cleaning crew, heart still stuttering with the echo of her laughter. I want to text her already, but force myself to wait.
The car ride is a blur of phone calls, emails, and crisis fires to be doused before I even hit the office. When I do, my assistant is waiting with a stack of folders and a look that says he’s one missed meeting away from quitting. I nod, take the folders, and retreat into the corner office overlooking the city, three shades of glass and steel between me and the world below.
The morning is a slog. My mind drifts. Every time I close my eyes, I see Olivia—how she looked in the half-light, her lips curved in that teasing smirk that drives me mad. I snap back to the screen, grind through numbers.
By noon, the pile on my desk has doubled, paper overtaking every inch. I’m completely focused on reviewing the monthly reports when Cameron storms into my office, unannounced.
“What the hell are you doing, Alex?”
I glance up and lean back in my chair. “Just going over some reports. What’s up?”
Cameron’s eyes narrow as he approaches my desk. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” His voice is casual. Measured.
I arch an eyebrow. “You’ll need to be more specific.”
“The whole office is talking about you and the woman you brought to the office yesterday.” Cameron cocks his head. “Do you have any idea how many people saw that? How many are talking about it right now?”
“I wasn’t aware my personal life was a topic for office gossip,” I say calmly.
I take a moment to study him. He’s not hiding the strain; it’s in the set of his jaw, the line between his eyebrows, the frustration almost palpable beneath the surface. I know Cameron well enough to recognize what’s underneath—the uneasy mix of disbelief and genuine concern.
“That was Olivia. My new fiancée.” From Cameron’s stunned expression, I know I have a lot of explaining to do. “She’s not the woman Father chose,” I clarify. “She’s her sister. Olivia needed my help, and I needed to appease my father without giving up either of our freedom.”
“Is Olivia the same woman you left the gala with on your arm?”
“She is.”
Silence settles between us as Cameron absorbs the news.
His brow furrows. “Alex, do you realize how risky this is? You could have an enormous scandal on your hands. Your father will—”
“He’ll be pleased I’m engaged, as he wanted. The details are irrelevant.” Cameron raises an eyebrow skeptically, but I continue, “Olivia is different. You should see her, Cam. She is smart, capable, and understands the world we live in.” I stand up and pace behind my desk as I try to explain. “And it’s not just that. She challenges me, makes me want to be better, to do more than just follow in my father’s footsteps.”
“You like her.”
I stop pacing and lean against the edge of my desk, crossing my arms over my chest. “Yeah, I do. More than I expected to.”
Cameron finally smiles. “I’m happy for you, man. You deserve it. I never thought I would see the day you’d catch feelings for anyone. Down bad is a good look on you.”
The tightness in my chest loosens. “Thank you, Cam. Believe me, I never saw it coming either.”
He claps my shoulder. “You still manage to surprise me after all these years. Who would have thought the world’s biggestcommitment-phobe would end up engaged to a woman he had only met a week ago? It just shows you that you have to listen to my advice more often,” he says with a self-satisfied smirk, “because clearly my romantic expertise is still unmatched.” I flip him off and shoo him out of the office before he gets smug enough to make a speech.
Alone once more, I reach for my phone and dial my driver’s number. “James? Can you pick up Olivia from work and bring her to my place around 6 p.m.? I’ll text you the address.”
After ending the call, I rush through the remaining hours of work, trying to finish all the urgent tasks as quickly as possible. The day’s meetings blend together, and soon I’m making my way out of the office and towards the fancy grocery store a few blocks away.
Inside, I find myself staring at an array of fresh produce, slightly overwhelmed. What was that dish Olivia loved so much? My fingers hover over vibrant bell peppers and fragrant herbs. This isn’t something I’m used to doing—usually my chef handles everything. But the memory of Olivia’s delighted smile as she tasted my cooking spurs me on.
I load my cart with various ingredients, hoping that inspiration will hit me once I’m in the kitchen. As I reach for a bottle of wine, I catch a glimpse of myself in the store’s mirrored wall. There’s an eagerness in my eyes I barely recognize, a lightness to my step that’s been missing for far too long.
“What are you doing, Hawthorne?” I murmur to myself with a wry smile. But deep down, I already know the answer. I am falling hard and fast for someone who was only meant to be a convenient arrangement.
And despite everything, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
