Chapter 9 Green Thumbs and Red Flags
Blake: POV
“I need you to dig up everything you can on Jason Jenkins. Yeah, the Nexus Tech guy." I paused. "No, I don't care if it's legal. Just be thorough."
I ended the call, a small smile playing on my lips. ‘This time around, Olivia, I'm not letting you slip through my fingers.’
After ending the call, I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat, satisfaction coursing through me. ‘If he had skeletons in his closet, I'd find them. If he'd hurt Olivia, I'd make damn sure he regretted it.’
The next morning, I was kneeling in the soil at Bloom Haven, finding peace with my hands in the dirt. There's something about the earthy smell and the quiet hum of growing things that centers me in ways therapy never could. The morning sun filtered through the greenhouse glass, casting dappled shadows across my prized collection of rare roses.
"Mr. Westwood, you really don't need to do that yourself," Marco called, approaching with a wheelbarrow of mulch, his boots crunching on the gravel path. "That's literally why we have staff."
I continued pruning dead branches from my newest rose hybrid, a deep crimson beauty I'd been developing for almost a year. "And deprive myself of the fun? Not a chance."
Marco shook his head, wiping sweat from his brow with a bandana. "Your physical therapist would kill me if she saw you kneeling in the dirt like this."
"What Dr. Thomas doesn't know won't hurt her," I replied, wincing slightly as my back protested. "Besides, varied movements are good for recovery."
"If you say so." Marco crouched beside me, the smell of fresh soil rising between us. "Those are looking good. The exhibition's in what, three weeks?"
"Twenty-four days," I confirmed, gently turning a bloom to examine it.
We worked in companionable silence, Marco spreading mulch while I tended to my roses. My mind kept drifting to Olivia and our Saturday appointment. I'd already mentally planned which section of the garden to assign her – something challenging enough to be actual work, but not so difficult she'd never return.
"You seem different today," Marco observed, pausing to stretch his back. "Happy, almost."
I realized I was smiling as I carefully trimmed another stem. "We're having a visitor this weekend. Someone... important."
Marco's eyebrows shot up with interest, his weathered face breaking into a knowing grin. "A lady friend?"
"You could say that." I moved to the next plant, trying to sound casual. "Actually, you might want to give the staff a heads-up. We'll have a potential new boss lady around on Saturday."
"Boss lady?" His eyes widened, trowel freezing mid-scoop. "Wait, are you saying—"
"Don't get ahead of yourself," I laughed, flicking a bit of soil his way. "But yeah, she's special."
"About damn time," Marco muttered, returning to his mulching with renewed vigor. "The staff's been running a betting pool on your love life for months."
---
That evening, I was reviewing contracts in my study, nursing a glass of single malt whiskey when my phone buzzed with a text from Theo. The amber liquid caught the lamplight as I set it down to check the message.
Check your email. Found something on Jenkins you'll want to see.
I opened the attachment on my laptop – an article that had gone viral featuring photos of Jason looking panicked at an upscale restaurant, his designer suit seemingly wilting under pressure. The headline screamed: [TECH EXEC CAUGHT TWO-TIMING RADIANCE HEIRESS AND BANKING DYNASTY DAUGHTER.]
According to witnesses, Olivia and a woman named Charlotte Caldwell had orchestrated a public confrontation, revealing that Jason had been dating Charlotte for months while he was dating Olivia for years. There were quotes from restaurant patrons describing Jason's face as "a mask of pure terror" when Olivia appeared at his table while he was having dinner with Charlotte.
I couldn't help smiling, imagining the scene. This was classic Olivia – not a tearful confrontation behind closed doors, but a strategic public execution. The article detailed how she'd maintained perfect composure while methodically laying out evidence of his deception.
As I clicked through to a related article, the page suddenly refreshed to an error message. My phone rang almost immediately, Theo's name flashing on the screen.
"You seeing this?" Theo asked without preamble, his voice tight with urgency.
"The stories are disappearing," I confirmed, trying another link with the same result.
"Jenkins moved fast. His family's investment firm has connections to half the media outlets in the Bay Area. They're killing every mention of the story."
I felt a surge of anger, my fingers tightening around the phone. "Can we push back?"
"Technically? Yes. Legally? Gray area. Expensive either way."
"Do it," I said without hesitation, standing up from my desk. "And make sure they stay up."
"Want me to apply some additional pressure?" Theo's voice had that edge I recognized from our college days – the sound of someone ready to cause trouble.
"Make his life difficult for a few days. Nothing illegal, but... creative. Something that keeps him occupied and away from Olivia."
After hanging up, I grabbed my keys, my whiskey forgotten. Radiance Inc. was only twenty minutes away, and something told me Olivia might need backup.
---
The security guard at Radiance barely glanced at my ID before waving me through, the Westwood name still opening doors even years after I'd stepped away from the family business. The main lobby was mostly empty at this hour, just a few cleaning staff and the night security team making their rounds.
As I walked through the entrance, I immediately spotted two figures in the seating area near the floor-to-ceiling windows. The lobby's modern design amplified sound, and I recognized Olivia's voice before I even saw her face clearly.
"You need to clear this up for me, Olivia," Jason was saying, his back partially to me as they stood near the sleek leather couches. The city lights created a dramatic backdrop through the glass walls.
"That sounds like your problem," Olivia replied coolly. I could see her standing with arms crossed, her posture rigid but unintimidated.
"I've already spoken to your father. He understands the importance of discretion in our circles." Jason's voice carried that particular tone of entitlement I'd always despised.
"You're lying. My father doesn't control my actions," she countered, her voice steady despite the tension. "And neither do you – not anymore."
"For fuck's sake!" Jason's voice rose, echoing through the spacious lobby. "Just release a statement saying it was all a misunderstanding. Charlotte's already agreed."
"No she hasn't," Olivia said flatly. "I just got off the phone with her ten minutes ago."
Jason stepped closer to her, his shoulders tensing. "You're being unreasonable. We can fix this. Get back together—"
"After you spent four months fucking someone else while telling me you were working late?" Olivia's laugh was brittle. "Not happening."
I cleared my throat loudly, my footsteps deliberate on the polished marble floor as I approached them.
Jason scoffed, though he took a step back from Olivia. "Who the hell are you?"
"Blake Westwood," I replied evenly. "And you're causing a scene in a public lobby."
Olivia's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and something else I couldn't quite read. "Blake? What are you doing here?"