Chapter 55 Addicted To Her
(Mark’s POV)
“I will take tea please,” Olivia ordered.
The restaurant smelled of fresh basil and quiet money, the kind of place where secrets wore suits and smiled over champagne.
Olivia sat across from me, her back straight, her red nails tapping against the edge of her glass.
Her proposal file sat between us. She’d titled it “Hearts for Hope: A Philanthropic Expansion.”
“You’re saying this will boost Simmons’ reputation?” I asked, flipping through the clean, elegant pages. “A children’s security fund tied to a global trust?”
She nodded quickly, her lipstick barely smudging her glass. “Yes. It’ll anchor the company as a socially responsible leader. We’ll become a brand people believe in, not just invest in.”
Her eyes flicked up; steady, bright, hiding something. I’d seen that kind of steadiness before. It came from people trained to lie beautifully.
I leaned back, watching her. “This is polished, Olivia. Maybe too polished. What’s in it for you?”
She blinked once, twice. “Excuse me?”
“You’re a model,” I said, tilting my head. “You’re not exactly the face of corporate philanthropy. Why pitch this?”
For a moment, she froze. Then, with a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she said, “As a major shareholder, the dividends circle back. My stake grows with the company’s growth.”
Her words were crisp, rehearsed. Not a single syllable misplaced and that was what made me distrust them.
I gave her a long, measured look. “Sounds like someone’s been whispering in your ear.”
Her hand trembled just slightly as she reached for her wine. “You think I can’t come up with an idea on my own?”
“I think,” I said quietly, “you’re smart enough to sell something that doesn’t belong to you.”
Something flashed in her eyes k fear? guilt? Maybe both. Then she smiled again, all warmth and poise.
“Let's get past out differences Mark and work to grow the Simmons group,”
When she rose to leave, I stood as well. The perfume she wore faint jasmine lingered long after she was gone. I didn’t sit back down.
I just pulled out my phone and murmured,
“Collins, dig into her movements. All of them.”
By the time I got home, the day had settled soft and golden through the windows.
Becca was waiting, wrapped in one of my shirts, her hair still damp from the shower.
“Long day ugh?” she asked, smiling in that tired way that made my chest ache.
“Too long,” I murmured, sliding my hands around her waist. “But this…” I brushed my lips along her neck, “...makes it worth it.”
Her laughter was soft, real, like something fragile I didn’t deserve. I’d seen hell, but nothing terrified me more than the thought of losing her again.
Our lips met slowly at first, then urgent. My fingers found her back, tracing down the curve of her spine, feeling her melt against me. The air thickened between us, hot and breathless.
She whispered against my mouth, “You always know how to make the world disappear.”
“Maybe because you’re the only thing real in it,” I said. And I meant it. Every damn word.
We fell back against the couch, her fingers sliding through my shirt, nails scraping lightly over my chest. I kissed her deeper, desperate, greedy like I could drink her soul and still be thirsty.
When I pulled away for a second, she groaned softly. “Where are you going?”
“Condom,” I said, out of breath, running a hand through my hair. “Its in my study drawer. Two seconds bae.”
“Mark,” she half-whined, half-laughed. “If you make me wait…”
I grinned, kissed her once more, then stepped away. “Then you’ll want me more.”
The house was quiet as I walked down the hall, heartbeat still pounding in my ears. My study light was still on I hadn’t remembered leaving it that way.
The moment I stepped inside, my chest went cold.
“Danielle?”
She was slumped on the rug beside my desk, pale, trembling and breathing shallowly.
A small silver tin lay open near her hand.
I knelt beside her, shaking her gently. “Danielle, hey, hey, what did you take?”
Her eyes fluttered open weakly. “They… they looked like candies.”
My stomach dropped.
Not candies. Detox patches.
“Damn it, Danielle,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I checked her pulse. It was there but really faint.I scooped up the tin, my hands shaking.
I’d kept that stuff hidden. Only Collins knew about my relapse months ago, the insomnia, the pills that made me feel alive when everything else went numb.
“Breathe, Dani,” I whispered, panic scraping through my throat. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
Her head rolled weakly toward me, eyes glassy. “Don’t… tell Becca…”
The words hit like a blade.
“Mark?”
Her voice not Danielle’s this time.
Becca stood at the door, her shirt still hanging off one shoulder, eyes wide.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, rushing forward. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing—” I started, too fast, too defensive. “She….she just found something in my drawer, thought it was candy.”
Becca’s gaze darted from Danielle’s limp form to the open tin in my hand. “That doesn’t look like candy.”
I swallowed hard, my pulse roaring. “It’s medicine. For detox.”
“Detox?” Her tone wavered between confusion and fear.
I couldn’t see her eyes. I just lifted Danielle, carrying her toward the couch. “She’s going to be fine. I’ll call Collins. He’ll know what to do.”,
“Mark…” Her voice softened, but it carried something heavier now a doubt that burned. “You’re hiding something.”
I stopped, turning halfway toward her. The room felt too small, too silent
“I’ve hidden a lot of things, Becca,” I said quietly. “But I let you know in due course, let's save her first,’
Her lips parted, maybe to argue.I didn’t wait to hear which.
I knelt again beside Danielle, tucking a blanket over her trembling form.
My hand brushed against the tin again, a cold and metallic , reminder that the past I thought I’d buried was still alive, breathing poison into the present.
And somewhere between the silence and Becca’s uneven breathing behind me, I realized.
Love could heal me. But secrets?
Secrets would destroy us both