The ding of the elevator doors closing behind her was only a whisper louder than the pounding of her pulse echoing in her ears. Taking measured breaths, Olivia tempered the beat and stared at the thick glass doors leading into suite sixteen-hundred, stopping short of entering his office. A herd of long-tailed cats in a roomful of rocking chairs were less nervous than she was right now.
She’d always known this day would come. Her own personal reckoning day had been on the horizon from the moment she’d issued her ultimatum. And since their stalemate was nearing a Guinness world record, one of them had to give. In her dreams, filled with dark revenge and sweet vindication, it had always been him.
Seeing him would test her feminine willpower. Her battle-weary heart, too. Luckily, she had her constant companion to fall back on if her defenses came crashing at the sight of those bottomless blue eyes.
Anger.
The first few months were the worst. Those painfully empty days when getting out of bed was impossible, much less the task of living. The dual betrayal had been a one-two punch that sent her into a downward spiral Rosa feared she’d never recover from.
Tending to her much the way she had the two Coleson children when they were young, Rosa’s motherly nature and female intuition had gotten Olivia through it. It was Rosa who’d held her, wiping tears, snot, and even blood when the oppressive grief took hold. It was Rosa who’d listened stoically as Olivia ranted, hurling insults at the absent man she’d raised from a baby in that same house, needing the pain to leave her body in any form that brought even a millimeter of relief. It was Rosa who’d dragged her out of bed and into the shower, washing her healing body and greasy hair, dressing her in something without an elastic waistband and making her walk to the kitchen to eat an apple.
There were entire blocks of time Olivia had no memory of, and the only reason she was still alive, that she’d not died of dehydration and starvation and utter heartbreak, was due entirely to Rosa.
Nanny to children now full grown, housekeeper to a home never dirty, and friend to those with precious few, Rosa was an angel on earth. She was a matching sweat suit and sneaker wearing devout Catholic who took her gin rummy game as seriously as her daily devotionals. Personal confidante to all the Coleson’s, she was a spitfire of indeterminate age, rolled into a wonderfully chubby package. The woman had to be sixty if she was a day, yet despite her strict allegiance to the ten commandments, would look you right in the face and swear she was only forty-nine.
And that boy she’d raised had grown into a decorated soldier who’d served his country as an elite member of the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta, one of the United States’ secret counterterrorism and special missions groups. Her dad made her watch enough Chuck Norris movies as a kid to know that some called it Delta Force. Ash simply called it The Unit. He was cool that way, as were all the operators. They might not get the media glory the Navy SEALs did, but when you were as good as good got, you didn’t need the public ego stroke. The Unit had taken him all over the world, using his skill, his body, and his bravery for their selfish necessity. The Unit had taken him away from those that loved him, doing its level best to get him maimed, if not killed, on a daily basis. And the hell of it was, he’d loved it like nothing else in his life. Gone willingly. Downright eagerly most days, sparking an unreasonable jealousy in Olivia that burned to this day. Yeah, he’d already been an operator when she met him, but second best was first loser in her book.
When he’d walked away from The Unit less than a year after he’d walked away from her, it poured salt into a gaping wound. And inspired her love of the word hate.
Entering the offices of Scorpio Securities Inc. felt like stepping into enemy territory. This was his turf. This luxury suite on the sixteenth floor of a professional high-rise in downtown San Diego, the home base for a security firm he owned with another retired veteran. All unwanted information supplied by a know-it-all meddler named Rosa the day he’d opened for business.
The modern furniture and minimalist decor wasn’t reminiscent of the Ash she knew. There wasn’t a speck of dirt from his boots on the pristine carpet. There wasn’t a dozen half-empty water bottles in sight. No protein bar wrappers littering the counter. No adoring fans waiting for him to leap tall buildings in a single bound.
Olivia knew Ash, the son, the sole male heir to a celebrated family winery he wanted jack shit to do with. She knew Ash, the soldier, the seasoned warrior who ignored any and all personal obligation in favor of the mission. She knew Ash, the h—
“Oh, thank God, you’re a woman!” The brunette behind the receptionist’s desk stood, swinging a baby from one hip to the other, holding out her right hand.
Her red lipstick and porcelain skin said pin-up model. Her tattooed arm and cat-eye glasses screamed roller derby girl.
“Welcome. I’m Caroline Mendoza. My sitter is sick with a stomach bug today,” she said, gesturing over her shoulder at the wide hall lined with closed doors, “so this place has one more man than usual and the testosterone is choking. It’s thick, if you know what I mean.”
Olivia smiled when the little boy giggled, showing off tiny white teeth. “I know what you mean.”
“This one’s a sweetheart, but he’s only been on the planet eighteen months. It’s a matter of time before he turns on me.” Kissing his forehead, she swept what little hair he had into short spikes. “God, you would’ve made such a pretty little girl.”
That was one road Olivia wasn’t traveling. “I’d like to see Asher Coleson, please.”
“Who?” Caroline did a double take. “You wanna talk to Ash?”
“I do.” There was no doubt he was here. Her weak knees told her so, as did the black Jeep parked in the VIP section near the main entrance.
“You sure? Sam is here, if you need to speak with an owner.” Her curiosity unmistakable, she shrugged when Olivia didn’t relent. “Okay, then. Who may I say is asking for him?”
Olivia grinned conspiratorially. “I’d rather not leave my name, if you don’t mind. He might run out the back door on me. I’d hate to chase after him and tackle him to the ground in front of witnesses. His ego is”—she spread her hands—“quite large. Easily bruised.”
“Ah, the element of surprise? Probably not a good idea with that one.”
Olivia stood firm, not saying a word, nor breaking eye contact with the brunette.
“Well, if you insist,” she said with a sigh, conceding. “But when he gets pissed and starts yelling, which he will,” she added with certainty, “it’s all on you.”
“I take full responsibility.” Because there was little doubt as to whether her presence would piss him off or not.
Not moving from her spot, she watched the woman walk to the end of the hallway and disappear behind a closed door marked Conference Room One, baby still attached to her hip. Ten seconds later, she returned without the baby.
“That’s a no-go, beautiful.” The endearment was complimentary. “I tried, but apparently he’s indisposed at this time and in the near future, which is gobbledygook for, and I’m quoting him here, find somebody else to help her. They’re all in a hush-hush meeting, but if you wanna talk to one of the other guys, I can make that happen. I’m married to one, so he has to do what I say. It was in our wedding vows.”
“Fine. Tell him I’ll wait.” Spinning on her strappy Jimmy Choo heels, she sat primly in one of the lobby chairs, prepared to hunker down for as long as it took.
Thanks to Trey Gillis’s inability to grow a pair, the only thing on her calendar was finding a new distributor interested in taking the Coleson Creek label nationwide. Preferably one that wouldn’t be so intimidated by the winemaker’s asshole son, he bowed out citing bogus conflicts of interest. Concern for his personal safety was more accurate. Keeping his recent nose job intact played a factor, too, she was sure.
“If you tell me your name, it might help. And confession to be made, there’s no back door to this suite, so he can’t go far.” Her brow furrowed, and she pursed her lips. “Although he has been known to rappel down the side of a building. And call in a helicopter to land on a roof, when necessary.”
Crossing her legs, Olivia pulled out her tablet and opened her e-mail, happy to work while she waited. “I’ll wait.”
With a comical groan, Caroline pivoted, hurrying down the hallway.
“It’s gonna be awhile,” she said, sitting back down at her desk a moment later.
“Why am I not surprised?” Not expecting an answer, they shared a frustrated female smile, silently commiserating on the male species.
The man had to surface sooner or later. And what was awhile when she’d already been waiting so long? Four agonizing years of radio silence. Asher Coleson wasn’t one for games, nor was he a man of great patience. When he wanted something, he got it. When he was done, he dropped it like it was hot. Awaiting his next move, which could be done via attorneys and a courier service, had been a special kind of hell. Anticipating it. Losing sleep over it. Waking up each morning, wondering if today was the day. Would she fight him? Negotiate his offer to get a better deal? Or would she demurely agree, inking the bottom of the legal document with the last name she’d been so proud to receive?
Why she’d gone so long without forcing the issue herself wasn’t a question she bothered to analyze. According to Marie, the answer was buried below the layers of anguish. Below the comfort of hate.
Deep down inside, where she feared the love still lived.
During the next hour, Caroline was a flurry of action, answering phones, printing pages and pages of documents, and tapping on a keyboard with nails that looked too long to allow her the ability. Twice, she picked up the intercom and buzzed another phone, pressing mute after a voice Olivia didn’t recognize answered with a gruff, “Yeah?”
Not caring that Olivia could hear the one-sided conversation, she spoke freely.
“Tell him she’s still here… But she doesn’t wanna see anybody else… No, I don’t know why… She doesn’t act like a stalker to me… How do you know what a woman who gets paid by the hour looks like?”
Then she’d hang up and smile graciously, offering an array of hot and cold beverages.
Another thirty minutes passed without an appearance from the man in question, but the sound of a crying baby filtered down the hall.
Groaning, Caroline ambled out of her chair. “Men, right? When you want them, they’re too busy. When they want you, you’d better come running or they’ll start to cry. I’ll try again.”
And this time, when she came back and the only male with her was one wearing a diaper, Olivia’s patience vanished.
“You know what, Caroline? Since he can’t be bothered to see me without knowing my name, I’m gonna tell you who I am. And then I want you to tell everyone else in that room who I am. Exactly who I am.”
Caroline’s eyes widened at what Olivia said next. “No shit?”
“No shit,” Olivia confirmed. “Make sure you announce it real loud, too, so everyone can hear it and there’s no confusion as to my identity. I’d bet my granny’s sweet potato pie recipe that he’ll suddenly find a free moment to speak with me.”