Oliver (4 page)

“If you’d broken in last night, you would have found a full house.” The intrusion wouldn’t have gone over well with Oliver’s guests either. They were a protective bunch. His inner circle was growing larger every time he turned around. Growing further apart from him too. He could see children down the road for some of them and had to admit he’d feel a little left behind when that happened.

“I’m presuming the two of you never had children?” Oliver pulled the remains of a fruit tray from the depths of the fridge and slid it on the island as Merideth slipped onto the seat next to Lucas.

“We did not,” she quietly replied.

Oliver looked up. Merideth sat rigidly, her hands folded on her lap. The message was clear. It wasn’t a topic open for conversation. Odd. The issue of children was one of the many things that had dragged the three of them apart. Oliver had wanted no part of parenting then. Now?

Older. Wiser. Clock ticking.

“Married?”

“Never.” Short, snappy, irritated.

“Boy, you really haven’t kept track of us.” Lucas’s response dripped sarcasm. For someone who wanted something out of Oliver, Lucas had one hell of an attitude at times. But when they were in sync…

Oliver shook the rambling thought away. “Why would I bother?” Oliver could be just as irritable. A voice inside said,
Finish it. Say it. Tell the truth. Be the adult in the room. Don’t make things worse.

He pondered that a moment. Telling them to get the fuck out would solve the situation. Oliver knew the voice would nag at him until he hunted them down again and brought them back. God, he’d gotten soft in his old age. He preferred to think of it as wiser.

He splayed his fingers on the counter, bracing himself for the impact of what he was about to say. It would make him vulnerable, give them a weapon to wield against him. If they dared try it, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell them to leave and never think twice about it.

No, only a thousand times for being fool enough to put myself out there.

Oliver drew in a breath, then let it out. “Why would I bother, when doing so would only remind me how badly it hurt when you two walked out of my life?”

Their shoulders sagged in unison. Tension seeped from the air.

“Would it help you to know that we regretted it almost immediately?” Merideth said softly.

“Yet you made no effort to return.” He glanced up, watching a tear trickle down her cheek.

“You made it fairly clear there was no coming back,” she replied.

“But here you are.” He’d tried to take the sting out of his words and realized too late he failed.

Merideth jerked her quivering chin up. The act lacked fire and defiance…and screamed pain. “You made me once, Oliver. I need you to do it again. I need myself back. I need you both.”

Those words again.

He pushed away from the island and returned to sorting through the containers of last night’s get-together leftovers for a quick meal. “There are bathrooms in every bedroom. Go wash the travel away while I take care of this. You have luggage?”

“In the rental outside.” Lucas stood. “I’ll get it.”

Oliver waited until he walked out the door before turning his attention to Merideth. She’d yet to budge, leaving him to presume she was waiting for her things.

“You’ve let yourself go,” he told her. “Given up. Let them win.”

It was a brutal truth she needed to hear. Streaks of silver cut through her auburn hair, which would have given her a classic look had she bothered to keep it healthy. The once glossy waves were dull and ratty on the ends. If anything, the silver strands gave it some life.

She’d bitten her cuticles ragged. Her knuckles were red and cracked. Dark circles rimmed her bloodshot hazel eyes. Her eyebrows were overgrown. She was unshaven. Granted, these could be a fashion statement, but Oliver doubted that. The Merideth he recalled, the one he’d seen photos of over the years, took great pride in her appearance.

“You’ll want to know everything,” she said.

“In due time.” He’d find out what he could by his own methods first. Oliver opened the lid on a container of veggies and offered it to her.

Merideth cautiously peeked inside and extracted a zucchini spear. “Does this mean you’ll help me?” She bit off a small piece and chewed.

“I haven’t decided yet.” A lie he told for her benefit. He hoped. Oliver dragged his Dom self front and center and ordered it to stay in place. “Go shower. I’ll have the food ready when you come back.”

“And then you’ll tell us?”

“Don’t push me, Merideth. I’ll know when I know. But know this…” He stalked around the island until he stood behind her. Close enough to let her feel his body heat. Close enough to take what he wanted again. “There is only one Master.” He fingered her blouse sleeve at the cuff, almost brushing her skin. “Understood?”

Her breathing hitched. He heard a gulp as she swallowed the food in her mouth. Her nipples peaked against the shirt. The temptation to see them bare again ate at him. His cock hardened. Images of her bent over the stool, him reminding her of what a real spanking was like right before he fucked her, tore at his resolve. Somehow Oliver managed to pull in his control. One lesson was enough for tonight.

“Understood,” she finally replied.

“Good.” He stepped away before he could give in to his baser urges.

Merideth slipped away, but he wasn’t sure if that was because of his decree or because Lucas had returned with their luggage. It didn’t matter. Both were headed up the stairs, giving Oliver the time he needed to collect his senses and get some answers.

Once they were out of earshot, he pulled the cell phone from his pocket. He didn’t give a damn who he woke up.

A groggy “Patterson” came through after the third ring. Oliver let his voice identify himself.

“My security was breached tonight.”

“What?”

Oliver could see Blake Patterson bolt upright with the barked voice. There was a rustle, a mumbled, “What happened?” from his bed partners.

“Are you all right?” Blake asked. “Let me check the log.”

He must have launched himself from the bed to the nearest computer. Oliver heard the click of a keyboard. More questions filtered through, all indiscernible. Then Mac Jordan’s, “What the fuck?”

It was their job to ensure the safety of their clients. Their concern for Oliver outweighed business worries. Knowing that calmed the turmoil roiling through him over Merideth and Lucas’s arrival.

“I’m fine.” Oliver knew they’d want answers of their own. He wasn’t sure what to tell them. It’d all come out soon enough.

Blake’s sigh drifted through the speaker. “The security was never reset from when we all woke up this morning. You never set it after we left this afternoon, Oliver.”

Now he felt like an idiot. Oliver racked his brain. Sure as shit, he
hadn’t
set the security once his guests had left.

“We have them on surveillance walking in,” Mac said. “I’ll have the police—”

“Not necessary. It’s a long story. I need you to see what you can find on underground BDSM communities in New York City. Those that ride on the fringe and take little care to do things by the book. Also, I want full checks on Merideth Wainwright and Lucas Ashmore.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” This came from Lori Belcher, no doubt hovering over her men while she tried to find out what was going on.

No, Oliver wasn’t sure. “Fine. I’ll stay on the line a bit to see what you can find.” He thought about adding that he only had ten or fifteen minutes left. That would only alarm them. Instead, he left it at that, stuck a Bluetooth in his ear, and worked on a quick meal.

He dumped leftover angel-hair pasta into a wok pan, added olive oil, a kiss of fresh basil, leftover vegetables, and tossed until it was hot. All the while Blake and Mac fed him tidbits of information, the bulk of which was also being e-mailed to him.

Oliver spun around to retrieve a platter from an overhead cupboard and found Lucas sitting at the island, watching him, listening. It was too late to cover his surprise. Lucas’s hair was damp from a shower. A day’s growth of whiskers still remained on his face. He’d changed into a T-shirt and Bermuda shorts. The tropical print did little to brighten his gray complexion. Oliver had been too focused on Merideth to notice before, and the light in his room had been too dim for him to spot details. Nothing got past kitchen lights. Lucas looked like death warmed over.

“I’ll talk with you tomorrow after I review the information,” Oliver told Blake. He tapped the device in his ear, ending the call, and then put the Bluetooth in his pocket. “Still light on your feet, I see,” he told Lucas.

“You were preoccupied. Get what you need?”

“Almost.”

“I expect you to share the information.”

“Without question.” After all, Lucas had a stake in this too. Merideth would be avenged.

Oliver grabbed the platter and returned to the stove to plate the food. He busied himself, adding a garnish of cherry tomatoes around the perimeter of the pasta, then followed up with freshly grated Parmesan cheese over the top.

“A sandwich would have been fine.” Lucas leaned back as Oliver put place settings out for the two of them.

Cooking had been an excuse to keep his mind occupied, his senses in order. A way to pull in the control for which he was so infamous.

Oliver shrugged one shoulder. “No bread.”

There was a beat of silence, followed by Lucas’s full-body laughter. Oliver smiled. He’d admittedly missed the sound.

“Here”—he slid the platter before Lucas—“dig in. I’d offer garlic bread, but…” He shrugged again.

“All this and no bread.”

Lucas howled all the more. Laughed until he cried. Until Oliver was fairly certain the laughter had died, and those were real tears Lucas flicked from the corners of his eyes. Oliver didn’t draw attention to it.

Oliver jerked his chin toward the bar tucked in the far corner of the main area. “Since you made yourself comfortable earlier, you already know where the bar is. Help yourself.”

Lucas pulled in a hard breath and pushed away from the counter.

“And what would Merideth like?” Oliver asked to his back.

Lucas paused to look over his shoulder, not making eye contact. “I gave up trying to figure that out a long time ago.”

A telling statement if ever there was one.

Oliver turned to the wine chiller. “You didn’t mention the house was unsecured.”

Ice clinked into a glass. “Much better for you to think I was still at the top of my game than for you to learn you’d neglected something so important.”

Touché
. “And are you at the top of your game?” He selected a Viognier, cradling the bottle while he waited for Lucas’s response.

“Depends on which game we’re talking about.”

“With regard to your presence here, only one matters, doesn’t it?” Oliver stood, damning the telltale cracking in his knees.

“Well…you already know the answer to that one, don’t you?”

Oliver glanced his way. Lucas’s back was to him, his shoulders tight, spine rigid. “I do.”

Lucas downed his drink and poured another. “I’ll follow your lead on this.”

“Yes, you will.” He stabbed the corkscrew into the cork.

There was no question about that. Lucas seemed as defeated as Merideth. Oliver couldn’t help one without the other. Hell, he wasn’t sure he should help either of them. His conscience wouldn’t let him turn away, though. Oliver could live with that. The problem was protecting his heart in the process.

Lucas put the bottle of Scotch back in the bar.

“Come eat before the food gets cold.” He said the words gently to offset the sting of his previous statement. To show he cared. Because as much as he didn’t want to, Oliver still cared.

As before, the tension seeped from Lucas’s shoulders. Turning, he gave a mock toast to the lady coming down the stairs before Lucas returned to his perch at the counter.

Merideth took the steps slowly, as if each one was an effort. She wore a pale green robe with a hint of white lace at the V-neck. Her wet auburn hair was in a loose braid. Tendrils curled around her face, defying her attempt to tame them. Oliver devoured the sight of her.

Lucas stood when she neared and pulled the chair out for her. A flush covered Merideth’s pale cheeks. She accepted the seat with a barely whispered, “Thank you,” and then scooted into place. The jiggle of her breasts pulled Oliver’s attention to the hint of cleavage peeking from behind the white lace. His mouth watered to plumb the depths.

“The food looks wonderful, Oliver,” she said as Lucas resumed his seat. “You didn’t have to go to all this effort. We could have served ourselves from the pan.”

“Aww…but it’s all about the presentation, Merideth.” He popped the cork. “And the execution.” He poured the wine into her glass, trying his best not to be distracted by the leap of her pulse at her slender wrist. “I’m sure Lucas will be honored to have you serve.”

Oliver poured a glass for himself. Her hands trembled as she reached for the serving spoon and fork. But it was Lucas’s expression that was most telling. He hungered for her. As much, if not more, than Oliver did. And they were both going to get a leisurely taste of what they’d once had soon.

“You’ll be sharing my bed tonight.” Oliver pulled away from the island, taking his wineglass with him. “Lucas knows the way, and I’m sure you do as well by now. I’ll leave you to your food and am certain you’ll extend the courtesy of cleaning up after yourselves. I have a few matters to attend to. Don’t dawdle. My patience has a limit.”

He left while their eyes were still focused on their plates and before either of them could notice the erection making it damn near impossible to make a graceful exit.

They ate in silence, not even able to fall back on the friendship Lucas thought he and Merideth had salvaged from the ashes of their former relationship. He didn’t know what to say. Never in a million years would he have guessed that checking on her welfare last night would result in him whisking her away to California at dawn. He was afraid any attempt at words would have him blubbering on his knees before her, begging her forgiveness. Merideth had acted without regard to her safety. But she wouldn’t have needed to do so if he hadn’t failed her. It made him sick inside.