Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
“I know that your moral code is Swiss cheese when you act like it’s Gruyère.” He leans back, the paperweight soaring up in the air in a higher toss. “Lucky for you, I love both Swiss and Gruyère.” He winks.
“Lucky for me,” I repeat, meeting his confidence head-on. The intensity of Oliver should make me let go. Walk away. He’s like a monster under a bed, but instead of being scared, I just want to peek underneath and he just wants to play.
Then I think, What the fuck am I doing?
What are we doing?
Oliver is with Hailey. Even after the night she came back to Stonehaven crying from the brush-off on the job.
I’m with Hailey.
Oliver and I are…enduring each other? Circling each other? Competing with each other? Some days I feel like he’s trying to get under my skin to run me off, but most days, I feel like he’s the distraction I need.
I can understand why Hailey is drawn to him. And he’s right. If I really thought he was bad for her, I would want him to change. But they’ve known each other for as long as they’ve been alive. The way they interact, their silent touches and quiet care, is built off history I will never know. Even if Hailey spends hours sharing with me.
His gaze tracks down my chest. Which confuses me more.
I squeeze the top of the chair harder. “Can we not? Not today.” I wouldn’t even be here if Hailey didn’t send a text to meet her at Oliver’s office after work.
Oliver catches the paperweight and studies me harder, his humor settling into something more serious. “Is there more to it than the charges being dropped?”
“Varrick was the reason they got dropped,” I explain. “Took him five minutes on the phone with the DA. Threw Trent under the bus at the same time.”
Oliver lets out a low whistle. “Dear old Dad with the high-up connections.” He tips his head, impressed. “He’s good.”
I’ve had conversations with Nova and Phoebe about Oliver, about their fears that he might be more susceptible to Varrick’s manipulation, which makes me remind him, “He’s a killer.”
“He’s good at being bad,” Oliver rephrases.
“He’s a killer,” I emphasize. “Of children.”
“I don’t throw stones. Or else I’d have to launch one at our little psychopath.” He tosses the paperweight again, and I can’t read him. But he reads me with one stroke. “Don’t fear for me. My heart isn’t melting over that imposter. I’m not a fourteen-year-old boy yearning for a father.” He rolls into the desk. “But you got out of the charges?”
I release my grip on the chair in a large exhale. “Yeah…It was a close call.” Too close.
I can’t shake the stress of learning I could’ve been charged for a crime my brother committed. Now more than ever, I need him out of my life.
I meander toward the bookshelf and slip off a hardback on attachment theory. Flipping open the dense text, I draw my eyes back to Oliver. “Have you read these?”
He sweeps me in a quick up-down. “Of course. You think they’re all for show?”
Maybe. Probably not. Oliver wouldn’t half-ass his research before turning into a character, but it dawns on me for a second. How much he must know. How intelligent he must be to have become hundreds of different people with different professions and skill sets.
I turn more pages. “Did Hailey give you any other info about this news she has?”
Oliver leans forward to remind me, “We were in the same group chat.”
She did text us together. Just a simple I have news. Meet at Oliver’s office at 7pm.
I rotate toward him. “You’re actually admitting you don’t have a secret text chat with her?”
His forearms lie on the desk, hands cupped lightly. “And why do I need to secretly text her when I can talk to her face?” He locks eyes with me. “Slip my hands down her back. Underneath her shirt. Snap off her bra—”
“We get it.”
“The royal we. Fitting for a king.” He relaxes back, then spins in his chair to face an ornate mirror on the wall and fixes his hair. “No, I don’t have any other details about her news.” He catches my gaze through the reflection. “Do you?”
“No. I just hope it’s good news.” I tense more. “Today has been full of shit news.”
“Like?” He spins back to face me, and I almost believe he’s interested in my problems.
I lift a shoulder. “The club needs new members, or I might have to start firing some staff. I can’t choose favorites and”—I exhale roughly and shove the book back on the shelf—“Hailey and Phoebe were the newest hires. They’ll most likely be the first cuts.”
“And why haven’t you asked me to join your club?”
I give him an intrusive look. “Do you have the money for that? Initiation fees aren’t cheap.”