hapter 153
Chapter 153
Olivia
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A comfortable silence settled between us as James sipped his coffee. The café had begun to empty a bit, the after–work crowd thinning as evening deepened.
“You know,” he said suddenly, “you didn’t even acknowledge me at the Children’s Hospital gala.”
I blinked, caught off guard by the change in topic. “I’m sorry?”
“At the gala,” he repeated, his tone light but his eyes curious. “You looked right through me like we’d never met. And we’ve met twice before that night.”
I felt heat creep into my cheeks. “I didn’t realize you were expecting a greeting.”
“Not expecting,” he clarified. “Just surprised. Most people in this town go out of their way to remind me we’ve met, even if it was just passing in a hallway five years ago.”
“Well, I’m not most people.”
“Clearly,” he agreed. “But you stared at me like I was a complete stranger. It was… refreshing, actually.”
“I stared at you because you were having a seven–hundred–thousand–dollar bidding war with my husband,” I pointed out, unable to keep the amusement from my voice. “That tends to attract attention.”
James laughed. “Fair point. Though to be clear, he started it.”
“And you finished it,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Quite emphatically.”
“The sketch was worth it,” he said with a careless shrug that reminded me of Alexander. “And the charity got a generous donation. Everyone wins.”
“Everyone except Alexander,” I couldn’t resist pointing out.
James’s smile turned slightly predatory. “Sometimes Alexander needs to be reminded he can’t always get what he wants.”
Something in his tone made me straighten in my chair. There was history there, something beyond business rivalry.
“Because you were friends once?” I asked, recalling Alexander’s brief explanation.
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…
Surprise flashed across James’s face. “He told you about that?”
“Just that you were close before becoming competitors.”
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James nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “That’s an oversimplification, but essentially
correct.”
“What happened?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.
“Life,” he answered simply. “Different paths, different priorities. The usual story.” He glanced at his watch. “But that’s ancient history, and I’ve taken enough of your coffee break.”
I checked my watch, surprised to find I’d been sitting here longer than intended. “I should get back to the office anyway.”
“Of course.” James stood as I gathered my things. “It was nice talking with you, Olivia. Properly this time.”
I smiled, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “It was nice. But just so you know, you’re still a stranger to me.”
His eyebrows shot up. “A stranger? After three meetings and a coffee conversation?”
“Three brief encounters and one coffee doesn’t make us friends, Mr. Westbrook,” I replied, keeping my tone light.
“James,” he corrected automatically.
“James,” I conceded with a small smile. “Enjoy your evening.”
I turned to leave, weaving between the tables toward the exit.
“Olivia,” James called after me. I paused, looking back over my shoulder. He stood with one hand in his pocket, the other holding his coffee cup, looking surprisingly earnest. “For what it’s worth, Andrew Thompson is lucky to have you handling his account. Not many people understand what he’s trying to preserve.”
“Thank you,” I said, genuinely touched by the compliment.
“And Alexander is lucky too,” he added, his expression unreadable. “In more ways than one.”
I felt a strange flutter in my chest but kept my expression neutral. “Goodnight, James.”
The evening air was cool against my skin as I stepped outside the cafe. Traffic moved steadily along Wilshire Boulevard, headlights creating rivers of light in both directions. I tugged my jacket closer, James Westbrook’s words still echoing in my mind.
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Chapter 153
“Alexander is lucky too. In more ways than one.”
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What did he mean by that? I shook my head, trying to dismiss the strange encounter as I walked to my car. The last thing I needed was to overthink a brief coffee conversation with my husband’s business rival.
The drive back to Carter Enterprises was quick, with evening traffic flowing smoothly. The building was quieter now, most employees having left for the day. I gathered my laptop and the Thompson proposal notes, mentally planning my strategy for tomorrow’s team meeting.
“Still here, Mrs. Carter?” Dylan poked.his head into my office, looking surprised.
“Just grabbing a few things for tomorrow. What’s your excuse?”
He held up a stack of reports. “Finishing the competitor analysis for Thompson. Wanted to have it ready for your review first thing.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Dylan,” I said gratefully, taking the folder from him. “But don’t stay too late. We need you fresh in the morning.”
We walked to the elevator together, chatting about tomorrow’s agenda. As the doors closed, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Two weeks into my new role, and I was already establishing a rhythm with my team.
“Have a good night, Mrs. Carter,” Dylan called as we reached the parking garage.
“You too, Dylan. See you tomorrow.”
The drive home to the Carter estate took longer than I’d anticipated. A minor accident had traffic backed up on the freeway, giving me plenty of time to replay my encounter with James. Something about him unsettled me, not in a threatening way, but in how he seemed to know more than he let on.
By the time I pulled into our driveway, the moon was high in the sky. Alfred greeted me at the door with his usual dignified nod.
“Good evening, Mrs. Carter. Mr. Carter is by the pool.”
“The pool? At this hour?”
Alfred’s expression remained perfectly neutral. “Mr. Carter often swims in the evening, madam. He finds it relaxing after a long day.”
“Thank you, Alfred. I’ll go find him.”
The pool area was illuminated by soft underwater lights, casting an ethereal blue glow across the water’s surface. Alexander was doing laps, his powerful strokes cutting through the water
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with practiced efficiency.
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I sat on one of the lounge chairs, content to watch him swim. There was something mesmerizing about the rhythm of his movements, the controlled power in each stroke. He reached the edge nearest me and looked up, water dripping from his face.
“You’re home,” he said, a smile spreading across his features. “How long have you been sitting there?”
“Just a few minutes. Didn’t want to interrupt your workout.”
Alexander hoisted himself out of the pool in one fluid motion, water cascading down his muscular torso. He grabbed a towel from a nearby chair and rubbed it over his hair.
“Not a workout, just clearing my head,” he said, wrapping the towel around his waist. “How was your day?”
“Productive. The Thompson site visit went better than expected. Andrew Thompson is actually on board with our concepts.”
“That’s impressive,” Alexander said, sitting on the lounge chair next to mine. “Thompson has a reputation for being difficult.”
“He just needed someone to listen to him,” I shrugged. “Everyone wants to be heard.”
Alexander studied me for a moment, a curious expression on his face. “You have a gift for that, you know. Understanding what people really want.”
“It’s not complicated. Most people will tell you exactly what they want if you just pay
attention.”
“And what do you want, Olivia?” he asked, his voice dropping lower.
The question caught me off guard. “Right now? A glass of wine and dinner. I’m starving.”
Alexander laughed, breaking the tension. “That can be arranged.”
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