“There are so many questions I want to ask,” she says.
“And I’ll answer every single one,” I say. She just smiles at me, and I finally smile at her and lean back in my chair. “Every single one.”
“Where are we staying?” She leans back in her chair and smiles. “Also, I want to go shopping.”
“So you find out I have money, and you want me to take you shopping?” I joke with her, and she rolls her eyes.
“Trust me, I don’t need you to buy me anything,” she says. The flight attendant comes over with a fruit platter and puts it down in the middle of the table.
“We should be landing in about thirty minutes,” she tells us and then walks away.
“You’re the first person I’ve ever told.” I lean with my back against the window. “I mean, my parents know, and my COO knows.” She leans over now coming into my seat, her eyes light and her smile bright.
“Thank you for trusting me,” she says, and at the exact time I kiss her lips, someone is breaking into my house.
Chapter Twenty-One
Olivia
His lips touch mine, and his phone goes off like a siren. He grabs his phone and opens it, I can see the screen of the kitchen. But I have to look closely to see the black figure tearing through the house. “What is that?” I ask. The feed goes black, and his phone rings.
“Yeah,” he says, harsh. “Someone is in my fucking house.” He just listens and gets up now, standing there. “I want to send a message.” He waits to listen. “I don’t care how you send it. Send it to his lawyer, send it to the fucking warden in prison.” Then he hisses, “Don’t fuck with someone who can bury you.”
“Casey,” I say, getting up. He looks at me, and for the first time, I’m scared of his look.
“He crossed the line when he came into my house.” He hangs up the phone.
“What?” I ask almost in a whisper.
“Someone broke into the house and trashed your bedroom,” he says. I sit back down because my knees give out.
“What?” I ask, shocked. “But why?”
“I have no idea,” he says, and his phone dings again. He sits down and pulls out his laptop from his bag he carried on. He turns on the computer, and I see the feed from the house. I watch in horror as the masked guy breaks into the house and goes straight for my bedroom.
He tears the drawers out in record time, then flips the mattress. When he doesn’t see anything, he runs into the living room, tossing shit over, and then he runs into the dining room that has all my stuff on it since I started to work in there. He makes the papers fly everywhere. I look over at Casey. “What the hell do they want from me?”
“I have no idea,” he says as the wheels touch down. My hands shake when I start to get up, and he puts away his computer. He holds out his hand, and when I take it, we walk down the steps out into the sunshine.
“There he is.” I hear a man and look up as he walks over to us. He’s wearing a blue suit and has black hair with a salt and pepper beard. He smiles big, but I can’t see his eyes since they are hidden behind sunglasses. “Holy shit,” the man says when he looks at me. “Is that?”
He comes to me now, whipping off his sunglasses, and I see he has brown eyes. “It really is.”
“What are you doing?” Casey says, pushing him away from me. “Derek.” He calls him. “Get away from her.”
“That’s …” he says, pointing at me. “Do you know who this is?” He looks at him and then back at me, and I put my head back, and I laugh.
“Hi,” I say to him, putting out my hand. “I’m Olivia.”
“Oh, I know who you are,” he says, and then he slaps Casey’s arm. “You have been holding out on me.”
I just look at Casey, who is missing this whole thing, so I lean into him and whisper in his ear. “I used to be a Victoria’s Secret Angel,” I whisper, and now it’s his turn to be shocked. “Also Sports Illustrated. A couple other ones also.”
“What?” he whispers.
“When you said Olivia Young, I didn’t put two and two together,” Derek says. “I have to get you new cameras at home because, let me tell you, they did not show her in the right light.”
“You’re an angel?” Casey looks at me. “How did I not know this?”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” I say. He just smirks at me and bends his head and kisses me softly on the lips. “It’s not who I am.”
“We are going to table this right now,” he says with a smile, and then I look up at him. “But tonight, or whenever, we are going to discuss this.”
“Okay,” I say quietly as he puts me in the truck waiting for us. Derek gets into the front seat, and Casey gets into the passenger seat.
“Where to?” He looks over at Casey.
“Headquarters,” he says. I just look out of the window and try to ignore this feeling I have inside me. This feeling I don’t think I’ve ever felt. This feeling of contentment, of easiness. It’s a feeling I’ve never ever felt so I don’t know if it’s normal or not.
I don’t know where we are going, but we drive into an underground parking area. When the truck comes to a stop, I unbuckle my seat belt. My hand is about to open the door when it’s ripped open by Casey. He holds out his hand to me, and I’m waiting for him to drop my hand when we walk, but he doesn’t let it go, and when we step out of the elevator, I stop in my tracks.
CBS Corporation is written all over the brown wall right on top of the receptionist desk. “Is this your office?” I look over at him, and he just smiles.
“One of them.” He says hello to the receptionist, and when we finally make it into his office, it’s the corner one with windows on all sides, showing you the beautiful Atlanta skyline. He shrugs off his jacket and looks at me. “Do you want anything?”
I just shake my head, then he turns and walks out of the room, leaving me with Derek. “I can’t get over it,” he says, and I laugh.
“It was a long time ago,” I say, and then I hear Casey’s voice over the intercom.
“Derek, stop flirting with my woman and get in here.” My mouth opens, and Derek just laughs as he walks out. I, of course, have no idea what to do, so I follow him also, and I step into what can only be described as a new dimension.
The room is dim and almost black. Screens fill all the walls from top to bottom. In the middle of the room sits Casey, his hands going nuts over the keyboard as five screens sit on the desk in front of him. “What are you doing?”
“What he does best,” Derek says, snickering beside me with a smile on his face. “Fucking shit up.”
Seeing him in this role is so much different; at the farm, he’s a dirty cowboy with a smirk that’ll make you weak in the knees. Here behind a desk, with his hands going a million miles a minute as his eyes work, it’s so much more intense. “Okay,” he says, “I found him going in by the front door and then taking off from the side and …” He turns some of the screens. “To this parked car.”