Chapter Three
Mack was surprised at just how much she enjoyed being Oliver's caretaker.
For the first few days, she felt like a mix between an animal keeper and babysitter, but the eccentric billionaire was fun to hang out with. For the most part, he liked to lounge in the atrium, sitting on a tree branch or napping in one of the many hammocks that were scattered through the room. He sometimes had bursts of energy where he would tear through the house, whooping and hollering, but for the most part he was surprisingly lazy.
At first, his constant state of near-undress was awkward to be around, but after a few days of constant sweating she followed his example and lounged around wearing only her tank top and granny panties. For once she was thankful that she never had the confidence to buy sexy underwear–if she had lace and thongs instead of sensible black or white cotton briefs, she'd never experience this kind of freedom. It wasn't like it was any more revealing than a swimsuit, anyway. The only downside was that she had had to start applying deodorant to the insides of her thighs to keep them from chafing when they rubbed together.
A couple of weeks in, Mack rolled out of bed, not bothering to brush her hair as she left her nice, cool room and padded down the hall to Oliver's open door. A breakfast of frozen fruit sounded good today.
"Time to get up," she called, but stopped dead in the doorway.
The bed was neat, the way she had made it the previous morning–Oliver never made his bed, so he couldn't have slept in it last night. And given that there weren't trails of leaves all over the carpet, he might not have even come to his room at all.
Frowning, she hurried down the ladder that connected the bedrooms to the rest of the house. He wasn't in his office or the kitchen. As she approached the atrium, the most inhuman screeching noises caused her heart to jump to her throat.
A shudder ran down her spine, making her breath catch in her throat. It reminded her of when she worked at the zoo and one of the gorilla mothers had lost her baby. The pure grief in the mother's voice as she screamed and clutched at her dead baby had been utterly heartbreaking.
Mack rushed towards the atrium. What if an animal had gotten into the building, or Oliver was hurt? What would she do? What could she do, hours away from any sort of help? There was a first aid kit in the kitchen, but if Oliver was badly hurt, there was no way she could carry him anywhere!
When she reached the atrium doors, Mack stopped dead. It wasn't an animal making the noise.
It was Oliver.
He was half-crouched, running back and forth on bent legs, supporting himself on his knuckles. His head jerked from side to side, mouth wide open as he howled. Hands shot out, ripping roots from the ground, throwing foliage into the air, and he beat his chest. Mack stared, transfixed. If the sounds he was making were gorilla-like, his actions were even more. Even the shape of his body looked exactly like the barrel-chested silverback at the zoo as he ran on all fours.
"Oliver?"
His screeching died away, but he turned his back to her, his entire body going rigid. Mack's heart pounded as she inched forward. For an instant, she was tempted to make the same gentle grunting noises that the female gorillas made for the silverback when he was upset, which always seemed to calm him down. She dismissed the idea–Oliver was not a gorilla.
"Hey," she said, keeping her voice low, soothing. "Wanna talk to me, Oliver?"
"Mack." His voice was strangled, hoarse.
"Yeah, it's me. You weren't in your room." Rather than approaching him dead-on, Mack inched around to the side, so that he could see her approaching. "I got worried."
"Is it morning already?" He turned towards her. Tear tracks ran down his face, and his expression was dazed and unfocused.
Mack nodded. Her heart was pounding against her ribs, her nerves tingling, but she made sure to keep her body language open and non-threatening. There was something about him that looked trapped and ready to spring into flight or fight mode, and she just wanted to show him he was safe. It was odd, because if he did decide to fight, there wasn't a whole lot she could do to hurt him.
He's not going to hurt me, Mack thought, and she knew it was true. She continued to move cautiously, but she wasn't afraid he'd come at her–more afraid that he'd run and she wouldn't be able to help.
Damn. I care about him more than I want to admit. When did that happen? It took her months to connect to people, yet with Oliver it had happened in a matter of days.
"Want to tell me what happened?" Mack bit her lip. "I've never seen you like this."
"Today's the day my parents died."
Mack crouched, arms folded over her knees. "How long ago was that?"
"Ten years. I was seventeen. It was a car accident. A head-on collision with another car."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, shifting forwards. "That's horrible."
"It was my fault. I was fighting with my dad. I distracted him." Oliver's gaze locked on hers and he shivered, his immense chest heaving, sweat coating his arms and face. "We were always fighting. I can't even remember the last time we had spent time together when I didn't turn it into a fight."
"You were seventeen."
Oliver shivered again.
"Kids that age fight with their parents. They're almost adults but are still children, and parents don't always get that. I remember when I was seventeen, I was constantly getting into battles with my mom over the stupidest things. But really I was just trying to figure out who I was and where I fit in the world. I remember one time, my mom suggested that I braid my hair, but I didn't think it was long enough and I screamed at her." Mack shook her head. "I was a little bitch."
Oliver's lips twitched. "I wanted to look into my adoption records. I guess my dad thought it meant I didn't really think of them as my parents. My mom was trying to calm us down. She was always the calm one, always able to get us to think things through. I remember suddenly seeing headlights…"
Mack was close enough to touch now, and she cautiously pressed a hand to his chest. His heart pounded against her fingers, and slowly she wrapped her arms around him. "It's not your fault."
Oliver remained stiff in her arms for a moment, then his arms went around her as well and his forehead dropped to her shoulder. The sweat on his skin suctioned them together, and his colossal shoulders trembled.
"I miss them. I've looked for my birth parents since then, but I was left at a hospital as an infant. There isn't even any security footage of the person who left me."
Mack thought of her own family, her annoying but endearing brothers, her down-to-earth father who always helped her find the most practical way of doing things, her fanciful mother who always encouraged her to find her dreams. Tears burned in her eyes and, without even being aware of it, she started talking again.
"Gedge, the drug lord I saw murder my boss, he never went after my family. But I'm afraid every day that he will. They're going to be moved into witness protection, too, but right now I can't even talk to them. We were always close."
"At least you have them. I'll never have a family again."
"Of course you will." She pulled back and smiled at him. "You're going to have a family again. You're going to find a wonderful woman, fall in love and have kids. It's going to be great."
His arms tightened around her and she suddenly became aware of just how close their bodies were. Her breasts were mashed against his chest. Their faces so close that she could smell his breath–it smelled like oranges. Her knees were on either side of his hips, her skin stuck to his. Her heart increased at the intimacy of their position.
Oliver's gaze flickered to her lips and she held her breath–was he going to kiss her?
To her disappointment, which was so strong it startled her, Oliver released her. He straightened, backing away from her. His movements were cool, calm, his face expressionless. She couldn't bring herself to stand as well, but stayed crouching where she was, staring up at him.
"No. I'll never find a woman who will accept everything about me and even if I did… I can't ever have children."
"Why?"
"I just can't." He ran a hand through his hair and marched past her. "I'm going to go shower. Please have my breakfast ready when I'm done."
Mack straightened, pressing a hand to her chest as he strode away. Her whole body felt tight, her brain dizzy. What had that been? I must be dehydrated, she told herself firmly, trying to ignore the tingling in her arms that felt like he was still in her embrace.