His fire inside, p.14
His Fire Inside, page 14
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“Moving my stuff, like a good girl.” She giggles and I swear I have never heard anything as adorable in my whole life.
I’m laughing without even being aware of it. There are people coming in and out of the small vestibule I ducked into to call her, people are staring at me, I don’t care. “Hmm...because you want to be a bad girl?”
“Yes, please.” It’s a breathy little moan.
Shit, this was a bad idea. “I’m going to try and get out early tonight to reward you.”
“I’m counting down the hours.”
“You aren’t the only one.” I give in and admit it.
“Hmmm...since you made it sound almost painful to admit, I’m thinking you deserve a reward. I’ll have to come up with a reward for you tonight. Decisions, decisions.” She laughs huskily.
“There you go being brave when I can’t get to you. I think I know what I want my reward to be.” My phone beeps with a text. Damn it. “I have to go, sweetheart, I’ll see you soon.”
“Until tonight.”
With a smile lingering, I answer the text then head back into the conference.
***
Olivia
I throw myself on my back on Rourke’s bed, still dizzy over his phone call. The way he laughed, the way he admitted he couldn’t wait to see me again even though it’s only been a few hours since he left. God, maybe this all won’t end fucked up. A glimmer of hope shines, and it’s enough.
***
Rourke
It’s just after ten thirty when I open the door to my room to find Olivia on the bed reading on a tablet. She’s wearing an old oversized T-shirt, her long hair drying in ringlets around her face and down her neck. When she sees me she smiles, her brown eyes soft. Damn, I am so fucking lucky. Then she opens her arms wide to me, and I’m in them without memory of how I got to her. I hold her close, breathing in the scent of her. Her beautiful body melting into me. Rolling her with me, I land on my back, settling her over me. Pressing a kiss into her temple. “This was worth pissing off a few people to leave early. I love what you’ve done with the place.”
I look around. She’s filled a side table with books, candles, and pill bottles, Tylenol and two orange bottles and a recognizable birth control pill packet, and a picture of her family from when she was probably twelve because her dad is in it. Damn, she was adorable then. There’s a print of Monet’s “Houses of Parliament at Sunset” on one wall and a large black and white print of the London skyline on another. There is a soft, fluffy, faux fur throw in dark purple on the edge of the bed.
“Glad you like it.” Her hand caresses my cheek. “I’ve been thinking about your reward all day.”
“Hmm...sounds very good.” I can’t take my eyes off the pill packet, then give in to the question I had. “Olivia, sweetheart, if you’ve been celibate for years, why are you on the pill?” She sighs; fuck, she blinks and the pain in her eyes is even brighter. I shake my head. “Never mind, I’m sorry. Forget I asked.” I press a kiss to her lips.
She returns my kiss, and her hand goes up to run over the frown lines on my forehead. “It’s a valid question, and I’m not going to turn into a wreck over it. For years when I was younger I had horribly painful periods, but not the cramps, for me it was sensitive breast pain. Then I had a miscarriage, I let Connor talk to me into trying. When I had the miscarriage I was so relieved, there is a part of me that can’t shake the guilt. That’s why I get sad. If I was relieved, then I should never have let him talk me into it. Anyway, after the miscarriage the cramps were off the charts, we’re talking narcotic level pain.
“I was sure something was wrong, maybe not everything passed out of me during the miscarriage, which can be an issue. Except I had all kinds of testing and sonograms and they didn’t find anything. My doctor said it wasn’t uncommon for the body to change after a pregnancy. She offered for me to do a low dose pill so I could skip having a period all together. I jumped at it.
I get a regular packet, but I don’t take every pill daily so I have enough to go through the blanks, like I’ll take four or five days in a row then skip one. So don’t freak if you look at the packet and see I’ve missed days. When I first started, me not taking a pill could be a bad thing, but since it’s been so long since I had a period it would take more than two weeks of not taking a pill for there to be something to worry about.”
I brush my lips over her forehead. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Her thumb brushes over my bottom lip. “I’m not. It’s something I had to go through. A painful experience for sure. It taught me a lot though, and in the end I’m not sorry.”
“Every time I think you couldn’t possibly be more amazing, you prove me wrong.” She smiles, then a small hand wraps around my cock.
“I aim to please. Now fuck me like I’ve been wanting you to do since about three minutes after you left this morning,” she whispers against my lips.
With an invitation like that, it would be rude to do anything else.
My phone vibrating against the wood of the bedside table has me reaching to quiet it before it wakes up Olivia. I see it’s a little after two thirty in the morning. I whisper, “Just a minute,” not wanting to disturb Olivia. Once I’m in the hallway I answer. “Okay, what’s up?”
“It’s Damon.” My South Austin hotel night manager. “I just wanted to let you know there was a fatal overdose of a seventeen-year-old girl, in the room of an actor in for a movie premiere. He’s a nobody though, B list barely, this will kill his career before it even gets started. APD is here. I’m planning on not saying anything until tomorrow morning to miss the paper, but it will go out online.”
“Have Glenda write something up, it’s sad a person died so young, and our thoughts are with her family. We leave any further questions to the APD to answer. I trust you and Janet will handle this right. The last time you guys did a great job.” This is the fourth time it’s happened in the hotel in the last seven years, which is one of the many reasons the place is reported to be haunted. I’ve never seen anything, but some of the maids have. I don’t disbelieve them, but I have enough problems with the living. I figure don’t fuck with it and let it be.
“Thanks, Rourke. Sorry to wake you up.”
“It’s all good. I’m not happy about being woken up, but you did the right thing to call me. We’ll talk soon.”
Back in my room I see Olivia hasn’t moved, she’s still deep in sleep. There’s a nightlight on the floor, at the foot of the bed, tucked underneath and letting out just the faintest glow of light. I bend down and chuckle to see a glowing white kitten. The light doesn’t bother me; I pull it out a little further so she has enough light to move around her new space without hurting herself in the dark. When I pull her back into my arms she sighs my name; the sound goes right to my chest, grasping it tight and twisting something I thought long gone. I sigh, but I’m not sure if it’s in relief or acceptance. Maybe both.
14
Olivia
I awake disgruntled, knowing I slept through Rourke’s alarm and him leaving. Even though I flinch when I see the alarm was set for five in the morning. He said last night now that he didn’t have to worry about avoiding his mom he was going to leave it until the last minute, maybe even have breakfast together. Wishful thinking is what it sounds like, though. At least I’m up at only a few minutes after eight, a little closer to normal.
The kitchen is almost done; it looks better than I thought it would. Now there is a real island of one slab of black and white granite, with the stove built into the middle on the kitchen side. It’s an enormous restaurant-quality stove with six burners and a griddle down the middle. The cabinets are a deep creamy white, not stark which would have made it unappealing, with glass in the doors. Right now two men are finishing up the trim woodwork along the baseboards and below the cabinet.
After a few minutes of chatting with Cheryl, I go into the kitchen to scramble some eggs and make more coffee for the both of us. I finish eating, then bring in her third cup for the day. As I tell her I’m cutting her off, we’re both surprised by the sight of Rourke on television.
Oh no, there was an overdose of a teenage girl who ended up dying in his South Austin hotel. They talk about the history of the hotel then start talking about Rourke as the owner of the hotel. I blink fast when they flash footage from what appears to be last night. Jenny Masters, hottest actress of the moment, has her hand on Rourke’s arm, then moves close to him. Their body language reads clearly: they have fucked before, and her move is an invitation. I blink back tears until I see him dismiss her, not politely, before leaving her standing there. The footage goes back to the exterior of the hotel.
With a sigh of relief I sink into a leather chair. Cheryl huffs. “You didn’t really think Rourke was going to take her up on her offer? I told you, dear, he’s a one-woman man even if he weren’t enraptured with you.”
I blush. “You never know with some men. I’m glad I saw it actually happen though. So tell me, what would you like to do today?”
***
Olivia
Over the next few days I grow concerned about Rourke. I’m starting to get really worried over how hard he’s working and how little sleep he’s getting. There are nights he comes home almost drunk from the lack of sleep. I’m terrified at the idea of him driving home at night and finally understand why he stays here instead of taking the winding roads of 360. Three days in a row his alarm goes off at five; on the fourth day I’m awake with the alarm and Rourke is dead to the world. No, fuck this.
I grab his phone and look for the name he’d given me as his right-hand at work, Doreen. Creeping out of our room, I hit send. She answers as cranky as I would be at five in the morning if I didn’t have to be awake. “Hi, this is Olivia Casey. I’m kind of seeing Rourke, I don’t know if he mentioned me or not. Anyway, he’s dead tired, this whole up at five in the morning out until midnight needs to stop. What does he have this morning? Will the world stop turning if he can’t get at least two more hours of sleep?”
The woman laughs. “He has mentioned you, and you’re exactly as he mentioned. Hold on, give me a minute, let me pull up his schedule. The first thing for the day is a two-hour event. He’s not scheduled to speak, so I can send his apologies on it without ruffling too many feathers. After that is an hour-long event, where he’s only there because he sponsored it. While he is expected to speak, he only ever does for about two minutes, referring back to the people he sponsors, so I’m going to cancel it too. After that, though, he is needed until at least seven.”
“I’m grateful for the hours this morning. I’ll take what I can get.”
“You’re right, but you know he’s going to be just short of enraged by what you are doing?”
“Yes, I’m not an idiot. I’m hoping by the time he gets home tonight and feels rested and ready to make me pay for it, he’ll have come to understand I only did it because I care about him.”
“Good luck to you, my dear. I’ll go through his schedule with him to see if there are some things he thinks he can bow out of.”
I sigh. “You’ll give it a day or two though, right? So it doesn’t seem like we’re ganging up on him?”
She chuckles. “I’m grateful he found you. You might turn him into a real boy yet. I know him well enough to give it a hot minute.”
“Thanks.” I end the call and turn to find Cheryl watching me. “I regret nothing. He’s exhausted.”
She smiles. “I didn’t say anything. You know what you’re doing. Don’t worry, I’m the only one who gets to fire you.”
Rolling my eyes, I go back into the bedroom to find Rourke still dead to the world. After changing the alarm to give Rourke two more hours of sleep, I climb back into bed and cuddle against him, hoping it won’t be the last time.
This time when the alarm goes off Rourke gets to it first. I feel his body freeze. My name comes out of him eerily calm: “Olivia, why is the alarm set for seven o’clock?”
“Because I called Doreen and had her cancel your first two appearances so you could get more sleep.”
He sits up, moving away with me. “You did what?” The words are ice, he’s daring me to repeat it.
“Rourke, you were so tired last night you were slurring your words. You cannot keep running on four or five hours a night. I’m well aware there is a Special Forces trick where you can, but it’s been almost twenty years and you cannot. You need sleep like any regular human being.”
“You do not decide what I do or don’t need. You overstepped, too damn far.” His back is to me as he puts his robe on. Then he’s gone, closing the door with a firm click.
Damn it. I close my eyes, wondering just how much I fucked up. I’m stunned I managed to fall asleep when I wake up an hour later on my own. Shit, shit, shit. I almost run out of the room, even though I know he’s gone.
Cheryl shakes her head. “He was not happy. He refused to say anything to me about it. Although, you will never believe this, the breakfast he was supposed to go to, almost every single attendee got food poisoning. Several events have been cancelled for the day because of it. You saved him from food poisoning maybe he’ll forgive you for it.”
I’m not holding out any hope of quick forgiveness even if I had saved Rourke from a bullet. I shiver as I remember the ice in his voice when he told me I overstepped. The day drags by. I’m not really expecting it, but it does hurt when by three there is still no call from Rourke. He’s called me every day, usually around noon, just to say hi and check on me. When the call doesn’t come I wilt a little.
A little after seven o’clock, after Cheryl and I have finished dinner, there’s a knock at the door. I check the door to see a tall, blond man. “My name is Kenny, Mr. Vega sent me to pick up Ms. Casey.”
I open the door. “Pick me up and take me where?”
The guy shrugs. “He said you’ll find out when you get there.”
Damn it. With Rourke there’s no way of knowing. Tomorrow is my day off, but the idea of leaving Cheryl alone sends my eyes to her with concern. She shakes her head. “I’ll be fine. Go.”
Running back into the bedroom I wasn’t sure I would get to share with Rourke after today, I change into a black maxi dress that just might not embarrass me or Rourke. Sliding my feet into flats, I grab my purse and cell phone. The guy is waiting by a black Range Rover, with the passenger door open for me. Once I’m inside he closes the door, then walks around the front. He gives me a small smile when he gets in. When he starts the car a flood of opera rushes out of the speakers, and he fumbles to turn it down. “Sorry. I listen when I’m stressed. Rourke was insistent I get you to come with me without me upsetting you or touching you.”
Tension eases in me. Okay, so if he didn’t want me upset then this might not be so bad. I don’t bother asking again, as I’m pretty sure I know where we are going when we turn toward 360, which is also known as Capital of Texas. Pretty much every major road in Austin has two names, like Highway One is Mopac after the railway line that runs along beside it being the Missouri Pacific rail line. The road we are on now is Ben White Boulevard and Highway 71. It’s a thing everyone bitches about when they first move here. Since I’ve lived here my whole life, I just shrug.
Then we turn up toward the hills onto a road I’ve never been on before, and I relax. It’s really dark, with only the dim glow of light from houses off the road besides the headlights. Okay, now I’m really glad Rourke doesn’t drive all the way home during festival season. There is no warning before a large two-story house done in an Italian Tuscan style is in front of us. It’s a mellow mustard yellow, complete with a huge rustic wooden door. The guy has gotten out and opened my door while I’m still staring dazed at the gorgeous house. I slide out of the car.
He hands me something. “Here’s the key. He’ll be here soon.”
Even though there are lights along the outside of the house, I’m grateful the guy waits until I have the door open before he leaves. Once I’m inside, my jaw drops. This place is beautiful, it really is, in the rural Italian design with stone walls and dark thick wooden beams across the ceiling. The chandelier is bright, made with wrought iron but not overwhelming. I walk through the house slowly: there is a large formal living room, a formal dining room, a library, an office, a less formal living room on one side of a huge dream kitchen in browns, oranges, and yellows, then an area to eat in the kitchen. French doors lead out to an enormous backyard with a huge pool, hot tub, and green grass with roses growing up the side of the wrought-iron fence. The view off the side of the hill is a picture postcard of the 360 bridge.
From far away I hear a door close, and I run back inside. I meet Rourke in the kitchen. His face gives nothing away. “I’m sorry, I overstepped,” I whisper.
He doesn’t say a word, just bends down and tosses me over his shoulder, slapping my ass hard, as he makes his way to the curving wooden stairs. Oh god, please don’t let him drop me. I’m trying to ignore the way my body responded to the slap to my ass when he does it again, sending vibrations from my core out to the rest of my body. I bite back my moan.
The world flips when I’m tossed on a thick, fluffy bed, not very gently. He shakes his head as he runs a hand through his hair. “Damn it, I’m pissed at you.”
He’s pacing the room. I nod. Anything to ease his anger. I pull off my dress. He stops, shaking his head. “I checked with Doreen. If she had said you were needed, I wouldn’t have said a word. I would have gone back into the room and woken you up. Please, know I didn’t do it lightly. I knew you’d be angry, I deserve your anger, but I did it because I care and was concerned about you and no other reason.”
I’d worn my lone sexy set of panties and bra in a sheer black. Even as he bites his lip, he shakes his head. “Using your body to get you out of trouble isn’t going to work.”
“You could spank me again...show me what happens when I’m bad.” I pull down the panties to my knees, then roll onto my back, sliding them off and offering him my ass.
