To Catch a Thief Page 7

  "Rian, I said enough. Look, I'm glad you're okay. I just can't see you."

  "Aunt Hannah, please—"

  She hung up. And as I sat on my sofa huddled in the corner and wrapped in a duvet, wearing my sweats and holey T-shirt, I cried. I’d made a lot of mistakes. My aunt was everything that I loved. And she'd been hurt because I'd gotten involved with the wrong boy. She was hurt because I trusted the wrong person, and I'd never gotten a chance to say goodbye. Never gotten the chance to say I was sorry. Never gotten a chance to tell her I loved her and make things right. And now I wasn't going to get that chance.

  Are you going to cry and give up, or are you going to fix it?

  Well, maybe I couldn't fix it, but I wasn't going to give up. I would give her time. Despite Ollie's wishes, I wasn't leaving, which meant I had time. I shoved the duvet off and climbed off of the sofa. I needed to wash my face before my dinner arrived. Just as I made myself somewhat presentable, there was a knock at my door. When I tugged it open, I was surprised to find Miriam had arrived before the takeaway guy. "Gosh, you would not believe the day that I've had. I just—" Miriam stopped herself short. "Why are your eyes red?" She barged inside, marching into my kitchen with two bottles of red.

  "It’s nothing. I’m fine."

  "Bullshit. Did that Ollie Wexler bloke make you cry? Shall we cut off his balls and feed them to him?"

  The corners of my lips twitched. "He didn't make me cry today, but he did try and prank me into quitting my job."

  Miriam's eyes widened. "First of all, how juvenile. Does he really think he’s going to get you to leave?"

  "I don't know. But he basically poisoned me with too much caffeine so that I couldn't function in an important meeting."

  "God, that fucker."

  "And right now I'm sweating about how the hell I’ll repay him."

  "Ah, it's got to be good. You don't get mad; you get even, my darling. We'll think of something fabulous."

  "We've got a real Alexis and Krystle Carrington thing going on."

  "Dynasty. Oh, I loved Dynasty."

  "You could get the show here?"

  "I spent summers with my cousins in the States. The reruns fueled our summer giggles."

  "Ah, okay. Alexis Carrington was the devil. And we loved her for it with her shoulder pads and her shoes. God, she was brilliant. And she never let anyone beat her."

  "We've got this. Besides, we can think of something diabolical, don't you worry."

  "But it has to be good."

  "You know, one of my friends, she sent this present to a guy who dumped her so he could go out with her cousin. She sent him a parcel that exploded into little glittering confetti bits all over him."

  I stared at her. "You've got to be kidding me."

  "I kid you not. It was hilarious. All his friends were there. That was epic. Maybe you can make something explode in Ollie's face."

  I frowned at that. "God, so tempting, but no. I can't be quite so destructive as that. As much as I want something to blow up in his face, it has to be subtle."

  "Don't worry. We will think of something. In the meantime, it’s time for a glass of wine. Tell me what else ails you."

  As much as I enjoyed Miriam, I wasn't telling her. That was my shit. Miriam was one of my only friends in London. I preferred she didn't know my whole history and still loved me instead of judging me.

  What makes you think that no-one's going to love you for you?

  I knew what my therapist would say, but I wasn't going to think about my shrink. Or Dr. McAllister and his medications and recommendations. I was going to open those bottles of wine and pour one for me and my friend. And then we were going to come up with the best plan for Ollie Wexler.

  Eight

  Ollie

  Okay fine, it was immature. But Rian was still here, riding it out. There wasn't anything I could do to her. No amount of unfriendliness, no amount of trying to push her out of my head, no amount of me pointing out or giving her all the reasons she didn't belong here was going to make her run.

  Which meant I had to deal with her.

  Her smell, her smile, the way she her breath caught when I touched her. I had already learned that she was hard to make go away. In some far depth of my mind, I could have Rian. And if I could have her, I could control her. I could control my feelings for her.

  But in reality, goddammit, just saying her name, smelling her perfume, it wound me up. And every time, it was like she was the puppet master.

  And so my small retaliation had been childish, and I knew it. I was waiting for her retaliation. There was no way that the Rian Cooke I knew would let that shit go. She once said that she liked a balanced scale. So as long as she felt like there was justice, she was okay. But if there was no justice, her anger shot right to the top.

  So I knew justice was coming for me whether I wanted it to or not. I just had to figure out what she was going to do. Though, after several days had gone by, and then a week, and nothing had happened, I wondered if she'd lost her touch. That spark and fire that I used to see in Rian's eyes, maybe that was a thing of the past. Maybe she no longer needed to let loose like that.

  And then we walked out of a meeting with Bridge one morning, and I found a package on my desk and frowned. "What is that?

  She shrugged. "How am I supposed to know?"

  Rian didn’t lie generally. Did I believe she could be manipulative? Absolutely. Did I think she held back, absolutely. But something in her sharp gaze told me everything I needed to know.

  Whatever this was. Rian had had something to do with it and I needed to proceed with caution. There was something else in her gaze too. Just the hint of a flicker that I couldn’t identify. It was that flicker that unsettled me, loosening something in the middle of my chest.

  That flicker was dangerous to me. Because I wanted to believe the flicker. But there was more to Rian than met the eye. She was hiding something.

  Warily, I eyed it suspiciously picking up the package and inspecting it, even shaking it a little bit. “The return sender says Morgan Enterprises. I'm going to call the messenger service. Did you sign for it? It would be just like you to fuck with me and send me dog shit in a bag or something.”

  She lifted her brow. "Really? Have you forgotten that you started this? You're such an ass. Is it so baked into your DNA that you can't even it turn off?"

  "Seriously, what the fuck is this, Rian?"

  "Ollie,” she said sweetly. “Do you think I have time to fuck with you? Unlike you, I'm taking the high road and showing some maturity."

  That was funny because I'd taken the first opportunity to fuck with her. A fact I wasn't proud of, admittedly. When I took the letter opener and started opening up the package, I held my breath. I didn't know what it was or who it was from, and I should've just taken it back to the mail room and had them open it safely down there. They had a whole secure way of doing it, but I was impatient. When I opened the box, I found cellophane containing some kind of candy. I smirked. What the hell? It wasn't until I had turned the bag and held it up in the light that I started coughing and laughing.

  My gaze turned to her. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

  Rian

  They were gummy dicks, but they were still a bag of dicks. I’d opened up the website a friend recommended, checked to see if they shipped to the UK, and then put in an order. It took me all damn week to see the fruits of my labor, but when I finally did, it was heaven.

  He'd come back from some kind of fancy meeting, one I hadn't been invited to. But to be fair, Olivia and Jessa hadn't been invited either. When he came back, he looked drained, exhausted. When he saw a package on his desk, he lifted a brow. "Do you know who delivered this?"

  "I'm sorry, but I'm not your receptionist."

  He frowned, threw me a scowl, and then sat down and opened his package.

  It took everything I had not to smirk at him as the bag of dicks was unwrapped.

  The cellophane made that very satisfyi
ng crinkly sound. It was fantastic. And then under his breath, I heard him mutter, “What the fuck? Are these dicks?”

  That was possibly the best part of this whole scenario. His utter confusion.

  I lifted my head and then blinked up in surprise. After all I hadn't seen them except in a photograph until that moment. Each one was about an inch long and basically like a gummy bear.

  "Oh look, someone knows exactly how big your dick is. That's impressive."

  He lifted a brow, and then his eyes went dark. His pupils expanded so far they almost consumed the stormy gray portion. "I feel like you remember exactly how big my dick is."

  "Now, I have no recollection of any such thing. Besides, we don't know each other, remember?"

  He snorted. "Who the fuck would send them to me?"

  "Probably a very knowledgeable woman." I chuckled to myself.

  He scowled at me again. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, this is bullshit."

  I grinned. "I want to meet whoever sent you those. I feel like she's my hero."

  He rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

  God, I'd been relishing my self-satisfaction that day.

  Also my satisfaction when we had another Kensington call and I killed it because he was distracted.

  Probably trying to figure out the mystery of the gummy dicks. Score one for me.

  His retaliation, though, came swiftly.

  After running back from a meeting with another client that Jessa had wanted me to sit in on, I moved my mouse to unlock my computer screen, and the screen was upside down.

  I frowned at him. "What the fuck did you do to my computer?"

  He chuckled. "Like I have time to dick with you or your computer. I have real work to do."

  "Oh yeah, real work. What did you do?"

  "I keep telling you I don't know."

  "My whole screen is upside down."

  He shrugged. "Sorry can't help you."

  That one took me most of the afternoon to get sorted out. I was useless and hamstrung. Having to take all my notes by hand and then transcribe them when IT finally came back and undid whatever damage he'd done.

  The dicks, however, were the gift that kept on giving. I’d gotten a monthly subscription. For about fifty pounds, they were delivered every damn day.

  A few days of it and he was already tired of them.

  "I know this was you," he growled at me when he came back from the mail room.

  I forced a completely placid look onto my face. It was quite the effort because all I wanted to do was dance with glee. "What was me?"

  "You know what I mean."

  I took a long sip of my water. "Honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about. Also, you've got a new package."

  He growled under his breath. "Jesus fucking Christ. You should admit that this is you."

  "I don't know what you're talking about." When in doubt, deny, deny, deny.

  "This has to be you."

  "You're assuming that I'm the only person you’ve pissed off in the last several weeks. They could be from anyone."

  "Make them stop."

  I grinned. "Make what stop?"

  "I don't want any more dicks sent to me."

  "Well then, maybe don't act like a wanker."

  He growled at me again. "You are a piece of work."

  "Takes one to know one." Perhaps not my most mature comeback.

  "We can keep going back and forth like this all you want. I will wait you out.”

  “Do me a favor and hold your breath while you do so."

  He shook his head and narrowed his silvery gaze at me. “What happened to you to make you like this? I liked the old Rian so much better. Speaking of the old Rian, Her employment and school record has a one year gap. Where were you during that time?”

  Icy beads of sweat rolled down my back as my adrenaline spiked. He didn't know anything. All he’d done was look at my CV. He was fishing. That’s all this was. It had to be. The problem was, when I was angry, sometimes my mouth got carried away with me. “Oh you know around. Since we’re playing catch up and all, how is Max? You two still thick as thieves?”

  The moment Ollie lost control…or rather let it go was palpable. His silvery-gray eyes went raging stormy and the muscle in his jaw ticked. His enormous hand wrapped around my forearm in a snap and the next thing I knew he was dragging me out of our office, down three doors until he not so gently shoved me into the small conference room on our floor. “The fuck are you asking about my brother for?” A hint of his working class south London accent snuck in, but he shoved it back into its box as he leaned forward. “The real question is, have you seen Max? You always did have a penchant for stupidity.”

  The icy lick of fear had me snatching my arm back and putting the small conference room table between us. The room was bland, a six by six room with a small table with a phone and ethernet jacks to wire in. The walls were bare save one watercolor of the Thames. His question…simple enough as far as he’d see it, shook me. Did he know? The hallucinations that had plagued me. Could he tell that for too long I thought I was losing my mind?

  There was something in the way he narrowed his eyes at me. He didn’t know. He was fishing for information. He wasn’t making commentary on my mental state. He didn’t know. If he did, would he morph into the Ollie from that night? The gentle one who had looked after me?

  Doubtful. That Ollie is gone.

  By now, we were both standing over the conference table, hands planted firmly on the wood surface, practically hissing at each other. And that was how Olivia found us.

  When Olivia cleared her throat from the door, her arms were folded as she leaned on the doorjamb. "Are you two finished? In my office. Now, please."

  We jumped apart, plastered smiles on our faces, and both grabbed our notebooks.

  We were fucked.

  Rian

  "Which one of you wants to be the one to explain to me what the fuck is going on?" Livy demanded.

  All I could do was blink owlishly at Olivia. Had she just sworn? Holy shit.

  Ollie sat forward. "I understand you're angry, and with good reason. We were just having a disagreement."

  I slid him a glance that said do you think she's dumb?

  And Olivia mirrored what I was thinking. "Ollie, please don't insult my intelligence. There's something going on with the two of you."

  I swallowed hard. "I know that you've given me an opportunity here, and I want you to know that I'm not wasting it. I am willing to do whatever it takes. And I'm sorry that any personal tension with Oliver has gotten in the way of that thus far."

  Ollie blinked at me. "Any tension between us will not be played out in the office moving forward."

  She nodded as she pierced me with her dark gaze. "All right, does one of you want to explain the source of this tension?"

  I swallowed hard. How in the world did I explain that we knew each other five years ago and neither one of us said anything about it? There was no good way to answer that question.

  But Ollie found his brain, apparently. "Right. It's just that we're two very different people, and we're still trying to figure out how to work well together. The Kensington account is important. It can advance both of our careers, and we're letting that get the better of us."

  She leaned back and crossed her arms. "You guys think I was born yesterday?"

  I knew from experience not to answer that question. When my mom had been alive and said something like that, it was meant rhetorically and you were not to answer.

  Ollie, apparently, had not had that experience because he reached for an answer. "Well, no, of course not. We let our competitive sides get the better of us and it spilled over, and we shouldn't have let that happen. I take full responsibility. I am the senior member here. I should've known better and done better for you."

  Olivia laughed. "Yeah, you should have. And Ollie, I have eyes. This little sexual-tension thing you guys have means you should run your little behinds down to Human Resources and fill ou
t a consent-to-date form. Work out whatever this is so it doesn’t spill out into my projects. I don't care about your personal lives. I don't want to know unless you want to tell me, and then I love gossip as much as the next person. But honestly, don't tell the lads. They'll have bets on it at ten-to-one odds of who's going to be in charge of the relationship. I don't care. Whatever it is, fix it, because right now it's messing with my clients. Do you understand me? The both of you?"

  I swallowed hard. "Thank you for being so gracious, Olivia, but I assure you we are not in a relationship."

  She lifted a brow. "I don't care what you call it. A hatemanship? I don't know and don't care, but you're going to fix it, right?"

  "Right. Yes, we will resolve the issue."

  "Excellent. So I don't want to have this conversation again because it's a little awkward for me, yeah?"

  Heat slammed my face. How humiliating was this? I just had my boss call me out on our stupid war.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Fantastic. Ollie, you're in agreement?"

  He gave her a terse nod. "Yes. Sorry."

  "While your apologies are oh so effusive, I'm going to put them to the test. I want you guys to run through the current plan for Kensington and come up with marketing angles by next week, really leaning into who they are as a company. I don't want to see any more of this nonsense bullshit you're doing to each other. And honestly, gummy dicks, Rian?"

  My mouth hung open. "Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

  She shook her head. "And Ollie, her coffee? Really, you two are juvenile. I mean, honestly, next time mess with his car. Go big or go broke.

  I blinked. Had she just told me if I was going to prank him to fuck with his car instead? I think I was a little bit in love with her, anyway, but that cemented my hero worship.

  Ollie just blinked at her. "Excuse me?"

  "And Ollie, I mean honestly, turning her laptop screen upside down? It's juvenile. Interrupt a date. That's how grownups do it. Now get out of my face, both of you."