Broken: A Billionaire Love Story (17 page)

Olivia was blown away by its size—the width of it, the depth. She was reasonable certain that it had gotten as big as it had by eating other, lesser houses and taking their strength. It looked like that sort of house—the windows all foreboding and dark, creating eyes—the front down covered over by a cavern of an overhang, creating a sort of mouth.

Or, perhaps that was only her anxiety kicking in. Probably so. One of the worst things about having her anxiety was that she knew when it was acting up—and so then she had the initial terrifying impression of her situation, and the knowledge that this impression was only her anxiety, and the attempt to quell the anxiety with her thoughts, but the
problem
was her thoughts, and so then the fear of never being able to fix the problem took over, and what if she was right and the situation
was
really terrifying but she was just second-guessing herself because of her problem?

An endless spiral of fear, if she let it be.

The chat with Arthur at the diner had only been a couple of hours before. Shane couldn’t live at her house—it was too unsecured, and the paparazzi would not ever leave them alone. He had gone with Arthur back to this very estate. Olivia had then had to rush home, pack, grab the dogs, and take off from her home, unsure of when exactly she would be able to return. Somehow, she would need to get her models and all her materials. They wouldn’t fit in the car at present, not with all the dogs and her clothing.

It was odd to her now, making this very specific route to a place in the county where she never, ever would have been before. She was glad her dogs were in the car with her. Their presence was calming—and everything that was happening to her right now was definitely not. She did not know a lot about Shane’s family, but she did know that their relationship with him was uncertain at the best of times. She did not think she would be received very well coming in like she was.

A short, balding man met her in front of the house—Harold.

“I’ll be taking the dogs, ma’am.”

“Oh.” She nodded. “Okay...?”

She handed him the leashes. The dogs sniffed at his legs inquisitively, and he scratched them. He seemed good-natured enough.

“Have they been fed already?”

“In the morning, yes. They still need one more, in the evening.”

“Twice a day. Got it. They need a walk?”

Olivia nodded. “They would love that.”

And then he was gone, taking her dogs out past the tall expanse of the house and the garage and into the surrounding country. Probably the dogs would love that—she had barely ever given them a walk through any proper nature. While she was watching that, someone else had arrived to take her bags up, and then
another
person drove her car away.

“What the hell?” said Olivia, mouth a bit agape.

There was nothing to do but press on. Try to find Shane, before she collapsed from tension.

Inside, the entryway was like an opera hall. Enormous, tall, covered in exquisitely crafted wood that made every sound bounce off every other.

“Hello?” she ventured.

She was terrified that the first person she would see would be Shane’s mother or his brother—that she would have to introduce herself and explain herself to them without Shane or Arthur there to help her.

Luckily, it was Shane who she saw first—rushing down an immense flight of stairs in the entry (one of two flights of stairs) to greet her.

He was still dressed in the tight flannel shirt and jeans from the rehab facility. Like Olivia, he looked completely out of place in this enormity of wealth.

“Hey,” he said. “How do you like it so far?”

“It’s...um...big.”

“Right? They don’t need all this damn space. It’s just the two of them.” He made a face. “Anyway. Come on. I’ll show you around.”

And he did just that for a while. There were so many rooms she lost count. There were the things she expected—dining room (complete with actual silver silverware), living room, game room, kitchen, bathrooms. But then a lot she didn’t—billiards room, gift-wrapping room, sun room, reading room, second billiards room, security room (where the team of guards, of which there were five, hung out and watched the outside grounds), and even a steel-lined panic room with enough food to last for three months.

“And...this is your room,” he said as they entered one last room at the end of a labyrinthine hallway.

It was more of a suite than a room. Hell, it was more of a house than the house where she lived. She wanted to run away almost as much as she wanted to rub herself in every part of it. It had a bathroom, a small living area, three couches, and a king-sized bed. Violet was most of the room’s coloring—in the flowers on the curtains, light shades of it for the couch and the lamps.

“I don’t believe it,” she said.

“Yeah. It’s fancy.”

“No, I don’t...I don’t believe any of this. I woke up today and I was your counselor. Your counselor with...with very weird and conflicting emotions about you. And now...all of this...”

She shook her head.

“I had some thoughts about that, actually.”

“What sort of thoughts?”

He grabbed her under the chin, looking her into the eyes.

“Maybe some of those conflicting feelings don’t really apply anymore, huh?”

Before, she hadn’t wanted to get involved with him for two reasons—it was unprofessional, and it was possibly detrimental to Shane’s recovery.

Against the combination of those reasons, her lust for him had barely stood a chance, and her resistance was only just starting to get up on its feet that morning—which now seemed so very long ago. And now, one of those reasons for resisting her desire had all but evaporated—and her need to feel him again was as strong as ever.

Suddenly they were kissing, his hands on her, sliding up her curves. She slid her hands hard onto the rock-hard muscles of his body, squeezing his inked arms, pulling him into her small body by back of his neck. God, she could use him inside of her. Something to forget all of this mess, even if it was just for those blissful few seconds of orgasm...

Just as their kiss started to get really hot, there was a knock at the door. The open door.

“The rumors are true, eh?”

Leaning in the doorway was a handsome, well-dressed young man in a sharp gray suit—younger than Shane and perhaps even Olivia, clearly in his early twenties—with the same bright blue eyes that Shane had.

Shane broke away from Olivia, still holding her hand. “Hello Hunter.”

This was Shane’s brother, then. Of course.

Olivia suddenly and desperately wished that they hadn’t had to meet in such a way.

“Shane,” said Hunter. “Sorry I wasn't here to greet you. Some of us have to go to work. What hole did they end up dragging you out of?”

“I don’t know that I recall the name. It was in South City.”

Shane looked like he might have said more, but Hunter had already shifted his attention over to Olivia. “You must be the new beau.”

She shrugged awkwardly. “That’s me.”

“You know, I don’t know that Shane has ever settled down with a woman for longer than a few months.” He turned to Shane. “How long have you known her, now?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I see,” said Hunter, smiling grimly. “Not very long. That’s all right, I suppose. He’s not keeping you around anyway, is he? Arthur just told me. Arranged marriage, and all of that. Done in six months? Six weeks? Short, anyway.”

Shane stepped in front of Olivia. “Hey, lay off.”

“What? We all know the score here. I expect she does as well. This will be over soon, because she’s disposable, just like everyone else in your life. Isn’t that right?”

Olivia expected Shane to fire back. But for once, for whatever reason, he was completely cowed. His brother—his
younger
brother—had him totally at his mercy. Wasn’t that odd?

There was a lot of history between these two, and Olivia had been dropped in the middle of it like a plastic spoon into a lake of fire.

“You’re like his therapist, is that right?” Hunter asked her.

Olivia nodded. “Something like that.”

“That’s good. He could use one. Fucked up people usually do. Maybe you can tell me later on what you think of him when he tells you all about riding on four-wheelers out back while he’s drunk out of his mind. Maybe you can have him tell you about a trip to the emergency room because he’s a fucking asshole.”

Shane looked genuinely hurt. “Hunter...”

Hunter's anger only seemed to grow the more that he spoke. He was fuming now, gesturing violently.

“Screw you,” said Hunter. “You stay away from me while you’re here.”

“Hunter.” Shane held his hands up in surrender. “Come on. Don’t be like that. I just got here.”

“Don’t be like that?” Hunter scoffed. “Don’t
be
like that? Don’t
you
be like
you
are, how about that? Everything was going
fine
before you showed up, okay? I had it all well in hand. Now you’re back, playing Arthur’s lackey, and you’re gonna screw it all up.”

“Arthur’s lackey?” Shane was genuinely puzzled. “What do you mean, his lackey? What are you talking about?”

Hunter rolled his eyes. “I’m not playing that game with you, man. I just need you to stay out of my way, or else I’m gonna hit you in the face.”

He stormed off then, slamming the door behind him. Echoes of his angry stomps followed him, reverberating through the door.

“You may resume making out, now!” they heard him shout.

Shane and Olivia stood across from each other, holding hands still.

“You’ll have to tell me what that was about,” she said to him, more counselor than lover or anything else.

“I will,” he agreed, “just as soon as I figure it all out for myself.”

Chapter 25:

Shane's mother, Cassandra, insisted on a dinner to welcome the guest. No matter what, Shane thought, his mom would always try to hold up appearances, even if it meant every solid bit of her emotions would be stuck inside of her for as long as the stars burned overhead.

He dressed down for the dinner in typical rebellion—jeans and t-shirt, showing off the ink on his neck and his arms. Olivia, though, apparently was still trying to prove that she was at least presentable, and wore a beautiful blue dress, a tight black belt showing off the lovely expanse of her hips. She looked positively gorgeous—a veritable princess. He wished he could just toss her over his shoulder and make love to her all night, completely blowing off dinner.

He felt bad, immediately, for not meeting her standard. They should have communicated more—maybe if they were in the same room...

He didn’t think she would go for that. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure
he
wanted it. As much as he wanted to see her naked as often and easy as possible, the thought of sharing his space was going to take some getting used to.

Sooner than you'd like, it'll be your reality. That's what marriage is. Sharing
.

The thought was equal parts comfort and revulsion for him. He had never wanted to settle down with anyone—not even Paulette—but there was something so calming about Olivia...

“Sorry,” he said to her. “I underdressed.”

She shrugged, as if to say that it couldn’t be helped, now. She was so easygoing. He loved that about her. Paulette would have torn his head off for not matching him.

When Olivia and Shane arrived, Arthur and Cassandra were already sat down.

The dinner table was expansive and elegant, of course, disgustingly so. Shane was already fed up with his family and he had only been home for a few hours. He missed the simplicity of the rehab institute—no frills, just utility.

This dining room, with its enormous chandeliers and its huge table...Shane didn’t even know where they had
regular
sorts of dinners anymore. There was some kind of rotation of rooms that had fled his mind. Hammered out by the booze.

Lots of questions still plagued his mind. He had been gone for so long. It used to be, when Dad was alive, they didn’t depend so much on servants for everything. Dad would have hated that. It seemed to have only gotten worse in the years since Shane had been gone. How did they get on using only a chef for meals? Did they ever get bored and make food for themselves? Did the chef somehow know all their preferences, keeping snacks pre-formed in the fridge or pantry?

Things to find out. Maybe he had known already. Maybe it hadn't changed all that much. Maybe like so many other things, he had just drunk the memories away.

“I see you’re just as punctual as ever,” said Cassandra, holding a glass of wine in her hands.

She stood up very perfunctorily. The years had not seemed to change her much in appearance—still stick-thin and tall, though a few more wrinkles had gathered on her face, she still had a mature, almost austere sort of beauty. Her hair, a deep gold color, only added to this effect.

She gave Shane a brief hug and casting a small, uneasy glance at the bandage on his face from the fight. Then, she gave the same sort of brief hug to Olivia. This was the first time Shane had seen his mother in quite a few years—and the first time she had met Olivia. And still, Shane reflected that it was a lot of affection for Cassandra—he suspected the wine had something to do with it.

“I suppose you're going to be my daughter-in-law, is that right?” she said to Olivia.

Olivia shrugged and nodded. “It seems that way, yes.”

“Well.” Cassandra took a long look of her, up and down. “I suppose you're as good as anyone, hmm?”

Olivia had no response. Shane was about to tell his mother to shove all kinds of implements up all kinds of orifices, but she turned and took her seat.

“Come,” she waved her hands. “Sit down. Let's begin. Hunter should be here shortly.”

They sat down, starting in on the meal in quiet. Cassandra spent most of her time pouring out icy stares on Olivia and then Shane. No one spoke. Shane didn’t want to say anything because he had nothing to say to them, really. Nothing that wouldn't spark an argument. Arthur was strangely and annoyingly immune to social standards of conversation. Olivia certainly wasn’t going to speak first—she must have known that would be out of turn. And Cassandra was probably too angry to say anything nice—certainly, she seemed that way—so she seethed instead.