Chapter 4 When Paths Cross Again
Olivia: POV
I yanked my arm away from Jason's grip as we reached the sidewalk outside Delmar's. The cool evening air hit my face, a stark contrast to the burning anger inside me.
"Olivia, please," Jason pleaded, his perfect hair now disheveled. "It's not what it looks like. Charlotte and I—we're just colleagues. I was mentoring her on a project."
"Mentoring?" I let out a bitter laugh. "Is that what they call it these days? You were mentoring her with your tongue down her throat outside Nexus Tech yesterday?"
His eyes widened. "You saw us?"
"Yes, I fucking saw you." My voice was eerily calm, even to my own ears. "I wanted to surprise you after my presentation. Surprise was definitely mine instead."
Jason ran his hand through his hair, a nervous habit I once found endearing. "Look, it was a mistake. A stupid, one-time mistake."
"Cut the bullshit, Jason. Charlotte and I compared notes. Four months isn't a 'one-time mistake.'"
People exiting the restaurant glanced our way, but I couldn't care less about making a scene anymore.
"Why?" I asked, my voice softer now. "I've never mistreated you. We rarely even argued. Was I really that terrible to you?"
Jason looked down, suddenly finding his Italian leather shoes fascinating. "It's not that you were terrible, Liv. It's just..." He sighed. "You're always so... calm. So controlled. Nothing ever seems to excite you or upset you."
"And that's a problem?"
"You're always busy with work. Always have some project or deadline." He looked up, a hint of accusation in his eyes. "And let's be honest, you've never been particularly... enthusiastic in bed. How many times did you turn me down in the past year?"
I felt my face flush with anger and embarrassment. So this was about sex? Three years together, and he cheated because I wouldn't fuck him whenever he wanted?
"So instead of talking to me about it like an adult, you decided to stick your dick in someone else? Real mature, Jason."
"I tried talking to you! You always said you were tired or had early meetings."
I shook my head, disgusted. "I can't believe I wasted three years on you."
"Olivia—"
"We're done." I stepped back, creating physical distance to match the emotional chasm between us. "Don't call me, don't text me, don't send me flowers or apology notes. We're finished."
"You can't just—"
"I just did." I turned and walked toward my car, ignoring his continued calls.
---
Two hours later, I pushed open the door to Moonlight Lounge, Victoria's upscale bar in the Marina District. The place was already buzzing with San Francisco's young elite—investment bankers, tech entrepreneurs, and creative professionals mingling over craft cocktails and ambient music.
Victoria spotted me immediately from behind the bar. Her eyebrows shot up when she saw my expression, and she quickly waved me over to a reserved booth in the corner.
"Holy shit, you look like someone just killed your puppy," she said, sliding in across from me. "What happened to Operation Cheater Exposure?"
"Mission accomplished," I replied flatly. "With spectacular results."
Victoria signaled to a server, who appeared with two martinis. "Tell me everything."
I recounted the evening's events—the confrontation, Charlotte's Oscar-worthy performance, and my final conversation with Jason.
"That fucking asshole," Victoria fumed. "He blamed you for not putting out enough? What century is he living in?"
I took a large sip of my martini, welcoming the burn. "Apparently I'm too 'calm and controlled.' Whatever the hell that means."
"It means he's a man-child who can't handle a strong woman." Victoria clinked her glass against mine. "Good riddance."
Three martinis later, my anger had dissolved into a peculiar numbness. Victoria kept the drinks coming, occasionally stopping by between serving other customers.
"You know what you need?" Victoria said during one of her visits. "A palate cleanser. A hot, no-strings-attached night with someone who actually appreciates you."
I snorted. "Right. Because that's totally my style."
"Why not?" She gestured around the bar. "This place is full of gorgeous men who would kill for a night with you. Like that guy over there—he hasn't stopped looking at you since you arrived."
I followed her gaze to a man sitting alone at the end of the bar. Even in my alcohol-hazed state, I could see he was ridiculously handsome—sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and an intensity in his posture that commanded attention.
"He looks familiar," I mumbled, squinting to see better.
"Of course he does. He's sex on a stick," Victoria laughed. "Go talk to him."
"I can't just—"
"You can and you will. Consider it therapy." She pulled me up from the booth. "Go. Be reckless for once in your perfect life."
I wobbled slightly as I made my way across the bar, liquid courage propelling me forward. The man's eyes never left me, and as I got closer, I felt a nagging sense of recognition.
Do I know him from somewhere?
I stopped directly in front of him, swaying slightly. Up close, he was even more attractive—dark hair falling slightly over intense eyes, a hint of stubble on his jaw, and lips curved in what might have been amusement.
"You've been staring at me all night," I said, my voice slightly slurred. "Either it's creepy or you like what you see."
He raised an eyebrow but didn't respond.
Fuck it. Three years of being "calm and controlled" had gotten me nothing but betrayal.
"Look, handsome," I continued, leaning closer. "I've had a really shitty day. Want to make it better? I'll pay for your time. I've got plenty of money."
His eyes widened slightly, and then he reached out, taking my hand in his. His touch was warm, his fingers long and strong, yet unexpectedly gentle as they wrapped around mine.
"Olivia," he said, his voice deep and somehow achingly familiar. "Do you know who I am?"