At this early point in his plan, Nick should be down with that. He assumed with her remark she’d “earned” her scar that her father had given it to her. He did not know this as fact, but with her shame around it, shame that felt deeper than her simply being a woman who had what she considered a flaw that marked her, it was a good assumption.
There was a story behind that scar and it had to do with Vincent Shade.
That mystery he would solve along the way.
Olivia sharing that she might be one of the few people in the world who’d understand the struggle he’d had coming to terms with his relationship with his brother and handing him the shock of her softheartedness when she thought his father died were unexpected things he knew he had to guard against.
So Nick had needed to step back.
When this was over, when he’d earned her trust and used it to gather enough information to bring down the House of Shade, the best case scenario for her was that he’d walk away and she’d remain standing. There was no doubt she’d hate him, but she’d remain standing.
Another scenario, when he had what he needed and made his move, she went down with her father, not literally, as in taking a bullet, but figuratively, as in enjoying a long stay in a prison cell.
The worst case scenario, she’d shield her father in a way where she did go down. Literally.
He already knew from what he got from her he’d work for the first.
But he had to be all in with his plan, so if she worked against him on that, he’d have to roll with it.
And take her down.
He’d given her two nights to back off and get her shit together, through doing that giving it to himself.
Now it was time to go back in.
He was impatient to do that.
In order to control the feeling, he also had to admit to himself that he was impatient to see her again.
This meant they needed to fuck, and a lot, so he could work that feeling out.
Eyes to the scene in front of him, a guy getting it from three girls, something that didn’t hold Nick’s attention (he’d prefer the guy being absent and just the three girls), knowing she was going to be late and that would last at least another quarter of an hour, when the call came in from his boy, he took it.
So he was surprised, in the middle of it, when he heard the door open behind him.
He had to roll with it.
Regardless, in order to gain her trust, he had to give her the impression she had his.
Therefore, even as he cast his eyes over his shoulder and watched her walk his way carrying a green drink in her hand, wearing a slim-fitting, expensive-looking turtleneck, one of her signature skintight skirts (just seeing the folds at her sex making his dick start to get hard) and another signature—her pumps, he kept talking.
“Call the boys. Three more to come to you. Set two men at the perimeter, another man inside. And tell Lee if this shit goes south, he owes me another fuckin’ marker. Where he finds these women we gotta keep safe, I don’t know. It’s starting to be a fuckin’ joke.”
His gaze aimed up, locked to hers as she moved in front of him. He then turned his head to watch her fold gracefully into the chair beside him.
“It’ll take at least twenty minutes to get three more guys here, Nick. And Stark reported the threat is imminent,” his boy reported.
Giving an important situation his attention, Nick looked to his shoes, his legs stretched out, his feet crossed in front of him. “Okay, Casey, then stop talkin’ to me, get the boys there, even if they show as reinforcements, and do your job.”
“There could be casualties.”
“Just as long as those casualties aren’t my guys or the woman you’re keepin’ safe, I’m okay with that.”
“Right, Nick. I’m on it.”
“Later. And report back.”
“You got it.”
He disconnected and looked back to Olivia to see her attention on him.
She arched one haughty, princess brow.
“Work issues?” she asked.
Cool customer, hot as fuck.
And cute.
Shit.
“There are a few arms in my business that can be more than your average risky,” he answered.
“I see,” she said in her soft voice, turning her head away and lifting her drink to take a sip.
“Melon?” he guessed at her drink.
“And vodka,” she murmured against the rim of the glass.
He was hoping it was just pussy-booze, like Midori, something that was lame that she liked that he would find unappealing about her.
But no.
She had to have the added vodka.
“There’s a new Ross,” she noted.
“Hmm…” he muttered noncommittally, being the reason why they’d employed a new Ross at the club and not about to explain that.
He reached to his whisky.
She turned to him again. “I’m surprised. I’ve been a member for years now and they’ve had no turnover in staff.”
He shrugged. “Shit happens.”
She looked to the scene in a way he knew she didn’t see it, murmuring, “I don’t like it.”
“The woman could have found a higher paying job, or she got married, or a hundred other things, Olivia. Your business is not hers, her business is not yours. It’s the way of the club.”
She nodded at the scene but said nothing.
“You wanna tell me why dinner with your mother lasted nearly four hours?” he asked.
“I was ambushed,” she replied.
He felt his neck start to itch.
Ambushed?
“Say again?” he pushed.
She looked to him. “I was ambushed. It was not dinner with my mother. It was dinner with my mother, one of her friends and her friend’s son.”