Chapter 16: Who is R

OLLIE

His expression didn’t change as he approached me.

He was annoyed and sweaty, dripping sweat from his chin to his exposed chest, down his V-cut lower abs, over those popping veins that led to—

~Enough.~

“What are you doing in my office?” he asked.

I raised my eyes, trying to calm my nerves.

“Are you deaf? What are you doing in my office?”

Oh shit, this time I did feel the intrusion.

I was definitely not welcome here.

Why was he so moody? And why was he so sweaty?

Grumpy and wet—who knew those two could match so well.

I had to stop.

I was doing exactly what I’d said I wouldn’t.

I was standing here drooling over this animal, watching his sweat, feeling…tingly things.

“I am sorry, Vivian said it was okay if I took a call here.”

He closed the gap between us.

“In my office? What is it that you have in your hands?”

I hid it behind my back.

“Nothing.”

Darius frowned, his nose getting closer to me.

“Olivia Summer, were you touching my things?”

“No.”

“No?” He grabbed my waist, pulling me close, daring me, those silver eyes making my heartbeat stop while he swiftly snatched the book I was keeping.

He was too tall for me to attempt to take it back.

“I only grabbed it because it looked familiar,” I explained.

He smiled at that, giving me a view of his back—not that I was complaining.

The view from this angle was phenomenal.

My eyes went straight to his butt, to those low-riding black joggers.

My eyes roamed over his back muscles again, watching how they retracted and expanded with each step he made.

Oh, dear lord, save me.

He was wearing the same pants in my dream.

I squealed in my mind, morbidly hypnotized, and proud of how accurate my imagination had been.

“In fact, this book is yours,” he said, sitting and putting his legs on top of his desk.

“But now I think I am keeping it for good.”

He had kept my book without returning it?

He opened the first page.

“The Blue Jays’ Song: A tale about love and—”

“Stop,” I warned.

“A tale about love and friendship,” he continued, returning his attention to the book.

“Does it have a dedication? May I read it?”

“Give it back,” I gritted.

“To my friend and lover…” That perked up his interest.

The man was smiling broadly now.

Darius Rothschild never smiled.

He only smiled when he knew something someone else didn’t or if he was mocking.

He was making fun of me.

“A lover, Summer? Who is ~R~?”

“Aren’t you a proper dick.” I walked up to him, completely triggered.

Gosh, this guy was such an asshole—it’s like this is what he wanted.

Bait me into reacting.

He closed the book, his palm doing small circles on it.

“I think I will read it in private.”

“You are not giving it back, then?”

“Maybe if you agree you like playing games.”

I was not going to prove myself to him or anyone.

“Dude, I already told you I am not playing games,”

“The Summer sisters…” he said, putting his legs on the floor and sitting straight.

His naked torso looked flawless.

“Not playing games?”

“My sister is a real-life unicorn, you don’t see it because you are always thinking badly about people,” I crossed my arms.

“A real-life unicorn?” He stood up, placing my book back into his odd collection.

Fuck, the view.

This guy was honestly so damn hot.

“Then what are you?”

A confused and aroused woman?

I turned my head, not wanting to see his body anymore.

“Someone who doesn’t owe you an explanation.” I turned around and left his studio.

***

~POV: Darius~

Blue balls.

I had ~blue balls~.

I haven’t experienced blue balls since I was a teenager.

I sat in front of my father’s thick wood desk after my previous encounter with Summer, crossing my legs and directing my attention back to him.

The pain was manageable by now, but oh, how I was planning on making that girl pay for this.

Why was she on my floor?

Why was she peeking through my things?

“It is time you bring up an heir to claim Sophie’s shares,” he said, looking tired, yet his posture remained strong.

“Do I?” I pressed my fingers to my eyes.

“We already talked about this. Who else but you? Having those shares in the hands of Vivian or Alexander could mean the end of our legacy. There is not much to think about.”

“About becoming a family man?” I almost laughed at that deranged idea.

“You don’t need to become a family man to bring an heir, Darius. It was not specified in the contract if the child had to be brought under a marriage.”

“Well, that is evident,” I smiled.

No trace of resentment toward him, I just lacked interest.

The interest of bringing children as game board pieces, specifically.

“Sign then,” Edmund pressured, pushing a contract forward.

He wanted access to the addendum of resources now in my power.

“If you are weak, step down as the executor.”

“But I am the executor,” I replied calmly.

“Someone has to take over this mess, son,” he said in a low tone, one that before would make my hair rise.

He never called me son.

It was always Robert.

I watched him silently as he leaned forward.

“Are you implying a ~no~, Robert?” His face shifted.

He pressed his fingers on top of the desk, rising up.

No one said no to my father, not even me.

“Sooner or later I will find out about that tiny project of yours. Maybe we should end it so you can focus on what is important.”

“What about my grandmother’s wishes?” I questioned him, low and steady.

I had too much power now to let him get into my mind.

Yes, he could end my editorial in a blink of an eye, but I was the designated person to organize my grandmother’s estate and that gave me power and the upper hand, for now.

“Your grandmother’s wishes?” He laughed.

“Is for you to become a family man. To sire a male heir to continue the family legacy.”

~Again with that…~

“Father,” I gritted my teeth.

“Build a family. Fuck a whore. Pay a surrogate. The options are limitless, even take that blonde you work with as a partner if you want someone as strong as your mother. Figure it out, but do it quickly. Luther must be planning Vivian’s pregnancy as we speak.”

I stood up, pressing my knuckles while I thought about what to answer.

It was better to keep my father calm, so I chose a vague answer.

“I will think about it,” I answered, standing up and walking outside his studio.

“You must, Robert.” I heard his voice fading.

“Now I need to get ready for the event.”

I sighed, taking his words as the end of our conversation.

God, how I wanted to blow off some steam at this moment.

This was all a headache.

This was worse than having blue balls.

It’s not that my testosterone levels were high; that was normal.

I was always mad and horny, but this? This so-called frustration, to put it in words, needed to be directed somewhere.

I wanted a distraction.

I wanted something I could control and bend.

Where was that dirty little mouth?