To Catch a Thief Page 9

His gaze searched mine for a moment. "What happened to you?"

  I blinked up at him. "What do you mean what happened to me?"

  "You used to be so different."

  "Oh, you mean because I’m no longer naive and wide-eyed? No longer dumb? I’ve learned to survive over the years.”

  He just glowered at me and said nothing in response.

  When the door opened, I marched out, not caring if he was following or not. As I tried to arrange for our car to pick us up, Ollie took a call.

  He stepped away from me and went somewhere I couldn't see him. I was glad to have the reprieve from his intense glare. When the car arrived, I glanced around, but he still wasn't back. I signaled to the driver to wait and went looking for him.

  When I found him, he was engaged in some kind of intense conversation on the phone with someone.

  "I fucking told you, don't call me. Don't text me. Don't turn up. I have nothing to say to you. And if you do, there will be consequences."

  He hung up the phone and when he whirled around, I flushed at having been caught listening in. "What the fuck do you want?" he growled.

  I hitched my thumb toward the valet line and the throngs of people bypassing us on the pavement. “Car is here.”

  He set his jaw and attempted to march past me, and I knew I shouldn’t ask. I knew I should leave it alone. I knew I should not care, but still, I couldn't help myself. "Is everything okay?"

  "What? Are you telling me that you give a shit about someone besides yourself?"

  "You're clearly in distress. So I figured I’d ask the question. Who were you talking to?"

  "Wow, your ability to plant yourself in the middle of something that is none of your business is incredible."

  "I'm just saying if you're in trouble or something…"

  "Or something? Get in the car, Rian. None of this concerns you."

  Wow. That should have shown me. "Well okay, that's on you."

  "Yeah, it is. Now is not the time to act like you've grown a conscience and actually care about someone besides yourself."

  My eyes went wide. "Me? Are you kidding me right now?"

  His attention when he turned to me was intense, hot, fiery. I'd seen that look on his face before. "I may be forced to work with you right now, but let me give you a warning; fucking with me is not a good idea. So stay out of my business, and as long as I'm stuck with you, I'll work with you. But we're not friends. You don't know me. I certainly don't know you. Never did."

  And as he strolled away from me and got in the car, he had no idea how close to home his barbs had hit.

  Ten

  Oliver

  "You look peeved mate," I heard someone say, but I continued to look around, smiling and nodding at the guests milling about Alan Kensington’s ballroom several nights later, and I knew I was playing the part. I was here mostly to observe and get a better understanding of the client. I understood my job. I really did. I just couldn't get my mind off of a certain brunette. And it was fucking with my mojo.

  "Mate,” he waved a hand in front of my face, “are you even here right now? I said, you look peeved like you're either planning a murder, or you're constipated. Which is it?"

  Alex. I was so distracted that I didn’t even notice he was talking to me. I scowled at him. "Fuck you."

  He grinned. "Cheers to you too. You're the one who wanted Operations. I’m glad they put me in Finance."

  "Finance is fine, but boring. How do you stand working with Drew all day?" Drew Wilcox wasn’t technically a London Lord, but he ran Wilcox Financial. And he had the London Lords account, managing the large conglomerate’s global finances. Also, he was Elite. Like we would be as well someday soon.

  "Ah, it’s not so bad. He just doesn’t have the flash of the other lads. But you forget I spend half my time with Ben." Ben Covington was the head of the Elite. His rise to power had been documented in the books they gave the three of us to study.

  "I know. I just never connected with him."

  "You know me. I can put up with anything."

  I chuckled. That was true. Alex had this way about him. Nothing fazed him at all. He was the most even bloke I knew. Even when you needed him to get worked up, he would do it in such a calm manner that you'd feel like the crazy person for getting all worked up and irritated.

  “So, where is she?"

  I frowned. "Who?"

  He just laughed. "The woman who has you gnashing your teeth."

  "Oh, her? I don't care about her." Which was bullshit. We’d spent the last two weeks at war. Culminating in that verbal spanking from Olivia. It was sloppy of me. My shit was tight. I stuck to plans. I didn’t get flustered. No one pulled me off course.

  Except Rian.

  "Right. Says the man who went out of his way to make sure to send her car back from an event and sent her Thai food that had so much pepper in it her mouth exploded. That guy?" I had done that, and I grinned just thinking about it. Her face when she took the first bite was priceless.

  "That's because she anonymously sent me a bag of dicks."

  Alex chuckled. "Oh, God, I'm half in love with her already. Where is she? I’m dying to meet her."

  "I'm not introducing you to her."

  "You realize I can just walk up to your floor at work and meet her myself, right? Maybe I’ll ask her out. And by the way, you know your boss is hot too, right? And wealthy. Both of your bosses, actually."

  I scowled at him. "You are not going to gawk at Covington's wife or my bosses, or any girl from my office. You must not like your balls the way they are, you know, attached and all."

  Alex laughed. "I like my balls just fine. Besides, I'm only looking, not touching. And I'm doing it with respect, you see.”

  I rolled my eyes. "Whatever."

  "Come on, tell me, which one is she?"

  I knew if I wasn't careful, my eyes would give me up, because all night, I'd been unable to take my eyes off of her. She'd come with a friend too. I'd seen them flitting through the crowd, laughing, drinking, introducing themselves to people. She was working the room as she should, getting to know members of the Kensington team. She made it look easy.

  I wasn’t sure why, but it irritated me.

  Well, some of us had to work at it. Some of us hadn't had that easy leg up like she had.

  You know what her old man is like.

  I did know what her father was like. She’d been groomed for scenarios like this. Grown up with wealth. I shouldn’t resent her for it, but I did. Because I knew that none of this came naturally to me. I had to work at it. I could do it, but it was work.

  Because you don’t belong.

  I shoved the thought aside. Nope. I wasn’t doing this. Stick to the plan. I had a plan for a reason. "Not going to happen, Alex. If you—"

  See, here’s the thing, every time I turned my head slightly and she crossed my line of vision, my brain literally stuttered. Alex turned his attention to where I was looking, and the action allowed me to get a full view of Rian in her low-cut, form fitting red dress, tits all spilling out. Taunting my senses. Completely shedding off my sanity. The red stood out on her skin. It was also body-hugging and tight, but not so tight that it was unprofessional. She just looked stunning and… God. I downed my drink.

  Alex laughed. "Mate, am I going to have to say the thing, or do you already know this and are going to save me the embarrassment?"

  "Shut up."

  "Okay then. You don't know the thing. And I'm not saying anything now, but when it happens, I sure as shit will say, 'I told you so.'"

  My eyes were glued to her as she meandered through the crowd. Her friend was tailing her, and she whispered something in her ear and then took off. The redhead wasn’t hard to miss in the crowd. In contrast to Rian, she wore all black. It was kind of a cocktail length, but a halter. And surprisingly for a redhead, she had an olive tone to her skin and darker freckles.

  Rian found me easily. "I’ve been looking for you. Have you seen Norena Mullins yet?"

/>   There was no hello, no how are you, just direct and to the point. Have you seen so and so yet?

  "Oh, what a greeting."

  She rolled her eyes. "Jesus Christ, are you always such a wanker?"

  "Just for you."

  Every time we were in the vicinity of each other, someone somewhere rang a gong and screamed out, 'Are you ready to rumble?'

  With her, I stayed ready. Because you never know when you're going to need to be at your best. Or in this case, my worst. "You know what, we're here to work. Try not to be a dick."

  I couldn't help it, the corner of my lips twitched and that was my first mistake. Showing any sign of weakness toward this woman, any sign telling her that I found her vaguely amusing, would mean that she would know she was winning. And I had zero intention of letting her win.

  "You know we're meant to be working together, right?"

  "Yes, that's why I'm here because I—" Someone bumped her from behind and it pitched her forward, sending her glass of wine to ping toward me.

  Fuck.

  She glanced down. "Fuck, sorry. Oh, God."

  I glanced down, knowing full well there would be a red stain on my shirt.

  "That wasn't intentional," she murmured.

  "The fuck it wasn't." I turned back around to the bartender. "Mate, club soda, please."

  The bartender took one look at my shirt and nodded. "Right. It happens."

  I grabbed the bottle from him, but it was Rian who grabbed the napkin he handed over.

  "Come on, let's take care of this so it doesn't set."

  "Oh yeah, like you have any experience."

  "You'd be surprised, Ollie."

  "Don't call me Ollie."

  She didn’t say a word to answer that, but instead dragged me through the crowd.

  Instead of pulling away from her, I followed wherever she was dragging me. Somewhat unsure of what to say, I murmured. "It's fine, Beaumont. Just give me a handkerchief, and I’ll be out of your way. You get the added benefit of showing off to Kensington."

  "I'm trying to help you. Are you always a wanker to people who are trying to help you?"

  "You are trying to help me? I'll believe that when I'm in my grave. Because I see you, Rian Cooke. "

  "If you call me Rian Cooke one more time, I swear to God, Ollie…"

  "But that's your name."

  "No, it isn't. I had my fucking name changed. Deliberately."

  "What, you thought you could slide back into the UK and no one would be any the wiser?"

  "Screw you, Ollie. I don't have to justify any of my decisions to you. I don't have to give you any reasons as to why I do what I do or why I've done what I've done. I don't answer to you." She said that as she jabbed her fingers into my chest, pushing me further into a little alcove. Then she yanked the seltzer from my hand, poured it aggressively on the napkin, and then started wiping at my shirt.

  The level of concentration she had was mesmerizing. Her teeth grazed her bottom lip as she wiped, and I couldn’t look away. One hand was delicately splayed over my abdomen, while the other dabbed and scrubbed away.

  My muscles tightened at the contact, knowing full well that she could feel them.

  She hesitated, but didn't look up at me.

  Quietly, I said, "Go on then, tell me. Why did you change your name?"

  Her voice went whisper soft. "None of your business."

  I was a masochist. I knew it, but I couldn't help myself. "Go on, tell me. I'm dying to know, Cooke."

  She poked me in the ribs then. "I told you, stop calling me that."

  I grinned. "Why, Cooke? Afraid someone's going to hear us? Afraid someone is going to know that we know each other? Someone's going to understand that you and I have history?"

  I had no idea why I was gouging her. This wasn’t what I wanted. The more I gouged her, the more I showed my cards, the more power she had. And I wasn’t going to allow that. I was going to be the one with the power this time.

  "This is as good as it's going to get." She dropped her hands and already, my body screamed out for hers. My cells were reaching out little tentacles, hoping for a whisper of memory, of anything, from her.

  I caught her wrist. "Where are you going?"

  She shoved me back and my dick hardened. "Why are you such an arrogant prick? You know, just so you're aware, I'm not here for you. I didn't think of all the ways I could fuck with Ollie Wexler's life. You weren’t even a factor. I didn't think about you once."

  Way to land that hit. "Well, despite giving it zero intention, you're doing an excellent job of fucking with my Zen."

  "You little shit. God, you really think I give thought and credence to this? This is a mere coincidence. I had nothing to do with this."

  "Oh yeah, and you didn't spill wine on me to keep me away from Mr. Kensington or the singer either, right?"

  Her eyes went wide and she jabbed me on the chest again. "I did not. Contrary to what you say, I don't spend my time thinking about you. I don't spend time worrying about you." Jab. "You are not ever on my radar." Jab.

  I wrapped another hand around her other wrist before she could jab me again. "You know, you keep saying that, but I can feel your eyes on me."

  "Mostly because I'm watching my back, just to make sure you don't stab me."

  "Sure." The perverse level of glee I felt as I antagonized her was something I should probably discuss with a shrink. But I loved seeing the fire spark her eyes.

  "And the next time that you think--"

  I could have pretended I was listening. I should have pretended that her tirade wasn't hitting home at least in a small way. With my gaze too focused on her lips, I could feel it, the roar inside me, that flicker of an earlier self. The one who could never look away from Rian Cooke.

  "Princess, you need to stop touching me."

  "What? Are you going to silence me? Run and tell Bridge that I'm not who I say I am? You know full well the destruction would be mutual, Ollie."

  "No, I—"

  "You think you're so smart. Why can't you, for the love of God, see that I just want my life back? A sense of normalcy. Why can't you—"

  My next actions were not thought through. I knew that. Later, when I was in bed still thinking about it, I would have maybe chosen a different course of action.

  Uh-huh.

  But as she prattled on, continuing to jab me in the chest, my control snapped and I again wrapped one of my much larger hands around both her wrists.

  "What the hell are you doing?" she said, alarm evident in her eyes. But there was also something else there… desire, maybe?

  "Probably something I will regret later." And then I slammed my lips to hers.

  Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I knew there was a line and I was crossing it. But while I was crossing the line, I waited for her to tell me to stop. I waited for her to push me away.

  And then the surprise of my life happened. Instead of shoving me away, kneeing me in the balls as she'd already threatened to do, Rian kissed me back. She made this tiny little gasping sound and then a low moan as her tongue peeked out to meet mine. And then there was no more conversation, no spilled wine, no years gone by. Just me and Rian, our tongues entangling in a promise of my destruction. My hands tangled in her hair, and I pulled her close, bringing her body against mine like I'd done that night all those years ago. That long forbidden, forgotten night before she walked out on me and never came back. I knew there were going to be regrets. I knew it.

  But I still couldn't stop. Her taste, her scent, the soft silk of her hair, all of it permeated my senses, ensnaring me deeper and deeper in a trap of poison ivy. Beautiful to look at, but dangerous to touch.

  And then there was a banging commotion behind us. Roaring laughter as people spilled into the hall.

  I tore my lips from hers and scowled. Both of us were panting, and her glare was mixed with lust and anger, confusion... and something else. Even as my cells demanded that I move toward her, go back for more, I deliberatel
y took a step back.

  I needed to say something. Anything. But in the end, it was her who spoke. "Not this time, Ollie Wexler. I won’t be used by you. Not anymore."

  And then she stalked away, leaving me in the hallway with my stained shirt and my heart on my sleeve as confusion and hurt surged through my being. She was walking away from me. Again.

  Rian

  Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

  My brain replayed the scenes of what had just happened. Why had I just let Ollie kiss me?

  Because you wanted to. And that's exactly what you've been thinking about for the last two weeks.

  No, it was not. An Ollie Wexler kiss was exactly the kind of hell I did not need in my life right now. It had been a very specific kind of torture thinking about him after our last kiss. The kind of torture that had kept me up at night. The kind of torture that had given me vivid daydreams of someone I couldn't have. Someone I shouldn't want. Someone who had ruined my life.

  But sure, here I was signing on again. Like an idiot. God, I was such a fool.

  I had to get myself together. God, my lips were still tingling. My skin was still too tight, too hot.

  What the fuck did you think was going to happen the way you rubbed up against him the last time?

  Admittedly, that was my fault. My bad totally. I'd teased him. I hadn't exactly meant to, but I had. All because I lifted my hip ever so slightly, just to watch the expression on his face. And now this, this was my payback. Because this was going to keep me up at night. This need, this feeling, this ache.

  I weaved my way through the crowd, looking for Miriam. Where the hell had she gone?

  All I had to do was stay and meet Norena Mullins. She was the reason I was there after all. And once I met her, I could go. Get as far away from Ollie Wexler as my legs could carry me.

  God, he was such a pain in the ass.

  A pain in the ass that could kiss like that was the kind of pain in the ass that everyone hopes for.

  As I scanned the crowd for Miriam, there was a man in the crowd that looked vaguely familiar. The ice in my veins chased off the heat that Ollie had put there. Holy fuck. I blinked rapidly as I tried to get a better view. But then he was gone. No, there was no way.