Chapter 33

Becka

“Wake up, sleepy head!” I heard Oliver’s voice come through my dreamless sleep from a distance. It took me a few moments, still, to open my eyes. In spite of my initial falling asleep the night before, I had woken up a few times and it had, ultimately, taken me quite a while to finally find sleep for the night.

“I don’t wanna,” I said. I did smell coffee, though, so I lifted my head and looked at him. Next to me was a tray holding a steaming mug of coffee with a cup of milk and a saucer of sugar cubes. “Except maybe I should have some coffee,” I said. “Possibly.”

It was then that I looked at him standing next to the bed. He was grinning, a wide smile stretched across his face, and, in his right hand, he held my suitcase.

“What are you doing with that?” I asked.

“Getting it out for you. You should get up soon. Our plane leaves in just a few hours.”

That got my attention, and I sat up in bed. “Plane?”

Oliver had whisked me away on vacation before, to Italy, and I’d thought it was a one-time thing. Apparently, he thought it worked well enough the first time.

“I thought about what you said last night,” he said, “and I feel like you have put up with quite a lot from me, both with Neurotova and with dealing with my ridiculous brother.” At this, his voice changed to a bitter tone and his eyes narrowed. “I forget that you’re not used to being in the public eye. In short, I forget that this is hard on you, sometimes. Harder on you than it is on me, and it’s been pretty stressful for me.”

I smiled at his understanding. It was amazing what a good night’s sleep could do.

“After you fell asleep last night, I booked us a flight to Paris. I have a friend who lives in a small suburb of the city who travels extensively. A quick phone call to him, and he gave us his condo for the week.” He continued to grin, incredibly proud of his thoughtfulness.

As touched as I was, a week away from home right now didn’t sound like a good idea. “I love that you did that for me,” I said carefully, “but I don’t really think we should leave your house right now. I mean, how are we even going to get to the airport?”

“Let me worry about that,” Oliver said confidently. “You worry about which dresses you’re going to wear and how you’re going to pack all of your shoes into a suitcase.”

I sighed. “Oliver, I really don’t—”

“Becka,” he said, sitting down on the bed beside me, the smile disappearing from his face. “I really want to do this for you. I took what you said last night to heart. You’re absolutely right. Now, let me try to make it up to you.” He took my hand in his and lightly kissed it.

“You were so happy when we traveled before. I can tell you enjoy it and that you love being in places where you can move freely without being worried about being photographed, or…” he paused. “Or, running into people you don’t want to run into.”

Ethan. Loud and clear. Though I was continually drawn to Ethan, Oliver was right. In fact, even the mention of him indirectly sent my body into a confused mix of arousal and anger.

“I just think that maybe right now is a time we should be staying closer to home,” I said.

“There will be plenty of time for that. Imagine being in Paris tonight, having dinner in a French café, with not a care in the world about sitting outside in the open.”

I had to admit, that was an appealing thought. I thought about having a few days to move in freedom, anywhere. It didn’t need to be Paris, though, of course, if he wanted to take me to Paris that would probably be okay, I supposed.

“That sounds kind of nice,” I admitted.

His grin returned. “Then pack your bag. I’ll send for Raymond. He’ll bring the car around and I’ll show you how we’re going to get out of here.”

I spent the next hour packing and getting ready to go. I called Lisa to let her know. She was, of course, insanely jealous, in spite of the fact that she agreed I was in desperate need of some new surroundings for a while.

“Is there any news on the college front? Any word about you being able to return to your dissertation?” she asked, worry in her voice.

“Not yet. I have a meeting with Dr. Evans in a few weeks. My original suspension was temporary, and our meeting is right at what’s supposed to be the end of the suspension. She said that she’ll know more then. She’s on my side,” I explained, “as much as she can be. My hope is that she’s been trying to explain to the powers that be at the college that I’m not the enemy here.”

“You’re a victim just as much as anyone else,” Lisa agreed.

“Yep,” I said. “It’s just a matter of making the college see that, too.”

I hung up the phone after we talked for a few more minutes, and I finished packing. I showered, dried my hair, applied my make up, then put my hair dryer and make up into my suitcase. I had opted to wear a dress to travel in. I knew the flight would be long and the last thing I wanted to have on was constricting clothing. The dress I put on was a floor length, dark red tank dress. It was one of my favorites and Oliver’s as well.

He walked into the bedroom and whistled lowly when he saw me.

“You look gorgeous,” he said. “I love that dress on you. It highlights your beautiful red lips.” He walked over and brushed his finger tip across my mouth, then he leaned in and kissed me softly.

“Is everything set with Raymond?” I asked. “How are you going to get us out of here?”

“It’s a little extreme,” he said, his face flushing. “But, desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“What are you planning?” I asked.

“You’ll see. I’m not going to tell you because, odds are, you’re going to try to stop me.” He smiled. “I don’t want you to stop me.”

I shook my head. “It’s not illegal, is it?”

“Nah,” Oliver said. “There’s been enough of that.”

I nodded. “I’ll say.”

We brought our things downstairs where Raymond was waiting. He greeted me with a friendly smile, then nodded businesslike at Oliver.

“Everything is all set,” Raymond said. “The car is in place, the drone is active, and our car is running and ready to go.”

“Drone?” I asked, looking at Oliver.

“Not yet, dear,” he said. “The car we’re taking is parked behind the kitchen. Let’s go—that way, we’ll be able to watch everything as it unfolds.”

I shook my head but said nothing. Clearly, Oliver and Raymond had a plan to get us out of the house without being spotted by the press, which had been camped outside the front gate around the clock. I was anxious to see if it would work.

We walked out the back door, and, to my surprise, a limo was parked right on the lawn. It was a small, private limo, not one of Oliver’s regular cars. I nodded approvingly; the press had memorized all of Oliver’s cars and would know immediately if one was in motion. Raymond packed our bags, then opened the door and escorted me in.

“Comfortable, ma’am?” he asked.

I smiled. “Comfortable and curious,” I said. He let a larger than normal smile slip. I liked Raymond. He was relatively new to Oliver’s team, but so far, he had proven to be incredibly loyal and resourceful, especially with everything that had been going on lately. I wondered how much of Oliver’s plan, the one he wasn’t telling me about, had Raymond’s influence.

Raymond took the wheel and slowly pulled the car around to the side of the house. Just as I began to see the throng of reporters, he stopped. He took out his phone and began to push buttons on the screen.

“All ready, Sir?” he asked.

“Ready,” Oliver said, and squeezed my hand. “Hold on,” he said to me.

All of a sudden, there was a large booming sound, a sound that reminded me of train cars crashing together. The reporters all looked to their right, startled, then began to titter amongst themselves.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Just wait,” Oliver said.

Another boom sounded, and this time there was a crackle like fireworks immediately following. Someone shouted, and all of the reporters began to run toward the sounds.

“Go!” Oliver said, and Raymond gunned the engine, driving across the lawn and through a side gate I had never seen before. The gate opened and closed, and we were on the road, driving in the opposite direction of the reporters.

I twisted around to look in the rear window of the limo. “What the hell?” I asked. All I could see was a black mass of metal that looked like it had once been a car, smoke rising from it, and the reporters tripping over themselves to get as close as they could without injury.

“Raymond decided that the only way for us to get out of the house unnoticed was to create a diversion,” Oliver explained, smiling. He clapped Raymond on the shoulder. “Splendid job, my man; it worked perfectly!”

Raymond let a small smile slip toward Oliver. “My pleasure, Sir. I’m proud to be of service.”

“What was the diversion? You didn’t cause an accident, did you?” I continued to look back at the plumes of smoke rising into the sky.

“Kind of, but not really,” Oliver explained. “Raymond took an exact copy of one of my more recognizable cars, the Lexus, and parked it behind some trees a mile down the road. We used a drone packed with fireworks, set the car to start and drive based on commands from Raymond’s phone, and, when we were ready, we had the drone connect with the car.” Oliver clapped his hands together. “I can’t believe it worked!”

“You two are like Mission Impossible come to life,” I said, shaking my head. I realized my hands were shaking, too; my anxiety had been high over leaving the house. I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes.

“You look like you need a drink,” Oliver said. He leaned over and grabbed a bottle of champagne. He uncorked it and poured me a flute, then handed it to me. I sipped it gratefully, feeling the bubbles move through my mouth and down my throat.

I sighed in relief. We were on our way

***

I didn’t know that Raymond was also coming to Paris with us, but, once I found out, I was grateful. That meant that I’d have another familiar face in a strange city, and it meant that I could have more of Oliver to myself as we would have Raymond to run errands for us and handle some of Oliver’s business elements.

Our plane landed without incident, and Raymond, who had been sitting in coach, took off to collect our luggage and get the car. We took our time as we moved through the airport.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. I was, so we stopped at a restaurant in the airport and had a bite to eat.

“We should grab something for Raymond, too,” I said.

“He can eat later,” Oliver said. He squeezed my hand across the table, his eyes crinkling with affection. “I love that you’re so compassionate and caring. You’re the most thoughtful woman I’ve ever met.”

“He’s going to be hungry,” I pointed out.

“I’ve taken care of Raymond,” he said. “You don’t need to worry about him or about anything else now that we’re here in Paris. I want this week to be calm and relaxing for you. The only thing I want you to worry about,” he dropped his voice to a low rumble, “is how many orgasms your body can handle back to back.”

“Oliver!” I exclaimed, looking around to see who was in ear shot. Fortunately, there didn’t appear to be any other Americans around us that could have heard him. Still, I felt a blush rise in my cheeks.

“Becka!” he mimicked me, squeezing my hands and laughing. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too, you goofball,” I said, rolling my eyes.