Nights With Parker (16 page)

“Who are you?” A man’s voice breaks me out of my thoughts and startles me. I let out a yelp, drop the knife that I was holding onto the counter, and look up. I’m confronted with an older man, handsome with salt and pepper hair, and it doesn’t take me long to realize he’s Oliver’s father. I can easily see the resemblance. He stands statue-like at the entrance of the kitchen staring at me as if I’m his sworn enemy.

“I’m Riley. I’m a friend of Oliver’s.”

He scoffs at my introduction, looking vacantly around the room before casting a second glance at me.

“Where is he?”

“He said he wanted to check in at his office,” I lie. I don’t think it’s a great idea for me to tell him that his two sons are currently trying to convince his wife to leave him.

“He’s actually decided to work for a change?” he questions smugly. I take a step toward him, really looking at him. I don’t like what I see; he’s arrogant, standoffish, and mean. Everything I thought Oliver was before I actually took the time to get to know him. I can see why he tries to portray himself that way—it’s all he knows. It’s who his father showed him to be, but it’s not who he really is. Even if he doesn’t believe it himself.

“You know he’s actually very good at what he does?”

“Is he now?” he says with a grin. I can see I’ve piqued his interest now. He’s not used to people coming back at him or countering his opinions. The fact that I’ve said something contrary to what he believes to be true has probably intrigued him. “And how would you know this?”

“Because I’ve seen it,” I say a little too haughtily. I’m likely inviting his ire, but someone needs to tell him that he’s wrong about Oliver, and it’s clear that his brother is not the one who’s going to do it. “He’s doing an amazing job in Savannah.”

“If you think finishing a job past schedule and over budget is good, then yes, I’m sure he’s doing amazing things in Savannah.”

“Maybe if you knew everything that went into doing what he does, you’d understand that the quality would suffer if he didn’t do things the right way. Even if that means a delay in the schedule.”

“Well. It seems my son’s picked a live one to occupy his time. Maybe you’re the reason his work has been
delayed,
” he drawls out, and I honestly want to grab hold of his shoulders and knee him where I know it would hurt the most.

“You don’t know anything about me; in fact, I don’t think you know anything about your son, either.”

“I’ll tell you what I do know. What I know is that my son is engaged to be married.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I tell him, feeling winded by his words. He’s just trying to hurt me, even though it shouldn’t hurt, even though I shouldn’t care if it’s true. I do, though; I can feel the pain start to creep into the recesses of my heart just at the thought of Oliver being engaged.

“No. What’s ridiculous is for you to think that my son would be interested in someone who obviously has no class or tact. He’s just using you, getting it out of his system before he marries Stephanie.”

I turn away from him not wanting him to see how affected I am by what he’s telling me. He knows, though; he knows, and wastes no time in digging the knife in.

“She’s educated, she’s rich, she comes from a good family, and she is stunningly beautiful. You could never even begin to compete with her.”

His words are painful to hear. What hurts the most is knowing that I was completely wrong about Oliver. I head back into the kitchen and lower the heat on the stove, not wanting to burn the food. Taking a deep breath, I try to regain my composure, and only when I’m sure that I won’t cry, I turn back to him.

“Would you like me to tell Oliver you stopped by?” I ask blandly. I’m sure he can hear the defeat in my voice. He knows he’s won.

“Don’t bother. Lovely to meet you, Riley, I trust we won’t meet again in the future,” he says before turning and walking away with his head held high and dignity intact, even though he’s practically obliterated me.

Oliver’s engaged. He’s getting married, and of course, he is, why wouldn’t he be? He’s perfect. He’s rich and handsome and gentle when he wants to be, and of course, he would find someone equally perfect to settle down with. Even though I always knew he would never pick someone like me, I couldn’t help but hope. Hope that one day maybe, he’d see me and realize that I could be something more than a girl he blackmailed into sleeping with him.

God, what does it say about me that I’d even want that? He treated me like I was nothing from the start, and in return, I go and fall for him. I’m just as screwed up as he is, completely and utterly stupid. For a moment, I think that I’ll leave, take myself to the airport and catch the first flight back home. It would be the easiest thing for me to do. Just get away from him as quickly as possible. But if I do that, he’ll know. He’ll know that he hurt me and giving him the satisfaction of seeing me in pain is not an option.

I decide instead to finish cooking, get through the day, and take it from there. One thing I know for sure is that I will not let him touch me, not ever again. It’ll kill me if it costs my mom her job, but even I have limits. Even I can’t pretend that the man I’m sleeping with is single when I know he’s not. Then there’s that nagging voice in my head telling me that maybe his father was lying. Maybe he was just trying to hurt me because he couldn’t stand the fact that I actually stood up for Oliver. But he gave me her name, Stephanie. Could he have just made it up?
Probably not
, I think to myself, now convinced that what he said is true.

Once I’ve finished cooking, I head back to Oliver’s bedroom, pick out a simple dress from the pile of clothes he bought me, and take a shower. I don’t know how long I’m in there, but it feels good to let the warm water wash away the stench of this long day. Once I’ve finished, I quickly get dressed, comb and dry my hair the best I can, and apply a little bit of makeup. I’m just about finished when I hear a knock on the door and Oliver calling my name. I’m about to tell him that I’ll be right out when the door opens, and he strides in, eyes heated and on me. I open my mouth to speak, but he’s on me before I can get a word out. His hands grip my waist, and with no effort at all, he lifts me up onto the counter and kisses me. I try to push him away, angry that he’s kissing me at all after what I’ve found out about him, but he grabs my hands and pulls them behind my back.

I gasp as he transfers both my hands into one of his then skillfully uses his free hand to pry my legs apart, squeezing his body between them for better access to me. It doesn’t take long for me to forget my promise to myself not to let him touch me. It doesn’t take me long to forget that he belongs to someone else before I’m kissing him right back. It’s reckless and stupid, but I throw myself into it, kissing him as fiercely as he’s kissing me. God knows I want to say no to him, but my body wants something completely different. My body wants him because he’s the only person who’s ever really made me feel alive. Once he’s confident that I’m not going anywhere, he releases my hands, and immediately, they find purchase in his hair. I want him; I’ve wanted him since the moment I saw him sitting at a table in my restaurant, and it’s only gotten worse. If I have to say goodbye to him, is it really that wrong of me to have him one more time? To feel him one more time? To feel like he’s mine, even if it’s a lie?

I can hear the clinking of his belt as he undoes it, and I should take that as my cue to stop this. I should push him away and tell him to leave me the hell alone, but I don’t. Instead, I revel in the feel of him as he slides inside me, taking me right here in the bathroom as if he owns me. I guess in a strange way, he does; he owns more of me than he knows, more than I’ll ever let on. His strokes are quick and rough, frenzied and manic. I don’t know if I can find my release this way, but he somehow maneuvers a hand between us and begins to rub my clit. It’s like he knows exactly what to do, exactly the right amount of pressure to use to light me up.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers into my ear as I begin to whimper. He circles his finger, pushing harder on my clit, his rhythm relentless until I can’t take anymore and I let go. His hand covers my mouth as I come hard, crying out and clutching his shoulders as I do. He begins to thrust faster, harder, keeping his hand over my mouth as he pounds into me. I can feel his body go taut just as he buries his head into the crook of my neck and groans through his own release.

He remains there for a minute, catching his breath, and as he does, the sense of euphoria starts to dissipate, and I begin to come to my senses. I realize what I’ve just done, and I let out a disappointed sigh. Not for him, he is who he is, a flawed man clearly incapable of change. No. The disappointment is for me, all for me, because I can’t claim ignorance anymore. I know his truth, and it still didn’t stop me from falling right into his arms.

He recovers, sliding out of me and kissing me on the forehead before quickly cleaning up and fixing his pants. I want to say something, tell him that he’s a monster for what he’s doing, what he’s done to this fiancée of his and what he’s done to me. I stay quiet, though, because it’s not the time. His family is in the other room, his mother, who’s just been through a terrible ordeal.

“My mother’s out there with Jacob,” he says, breaking into my thoughts. “We have to get out there.”

“I can’t believe you actually had sex with me in your bathroom while your family is out there,” I say, pointing at the door.

He grins at me, and it’s wicked and sexy. “I couldn’t help it. You looked beautiful.”

“Give me a minute to make myself look presentable.” I turn away from him, looking into the mirror to check the damage to my appearance. All I see is the reflection of a girl I don’t like very much right now.

“Are you okay?” he asks, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me back into him, like he did earlier. I love it. I love how he makes me feel when he holds me close.

“I’m fine, just tired. It’s been a long day,” I lie and quickly change the topic. “How’s your mom doing?”

“As well as can be expected. Thank you for cooking.” His hand slides over my stomach to my waist, and he gives me a squeeze. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was no trouble.”

“It was thoughtful,” he says, kissing the side of my head. “By the way, your car’s all fixed, and I had them drop it off at your house.”

“How much is it?”

“Don’t worry about it. I took care of it.”

“I can’t let you do that. I like to pay for my own things, Oliver. It’s my car.”

“All right,” he says, brushing his nose along my hairline. “I paid for it with the money I gave you for giving me a tour of Savannah.”

I open my mouth to tell him how ridiculous that is, that I gave him that money back because I didn’t want it, but he cuts me off before I can get a word out.

“I’ll let them know you’ll be out in a minute.” He releases me and walks out of the bathroom, leaving me there with my feelings of confusion, guilt, and disappointment. I want to be angry with him for lying to me, for not telling me that he’s engaged to be married, but all I feel is hurt. Besides, how can I be mad at him when he’s never once promised me anything at all?

I hide in the bathroom for a few more minutes, trying to come to terms with my situation and what needs to be done to end it. When I’m sure that my emotions are in check, I walk into the bedroom, slip on a pair of sandals, and head out of the bedroom.

“You have to listen to us, Mom,” I hear Oliver say as I walk down the hall. I contemplate turning around and locking myself back in the bedroom so that they can finish their conversation in private, but his mother thwarts my plan before I can make my move.

“We’ll talk about it later; your lovely friend has joined us,” Oliver’s mom says with a smile.

I smile back at her and give her a shy wave, but as always, my eyes go to Oliver. They lock on him as he stands from his place on the couch across from his mom. He extends a hand out to me, and I immediately take it. He pulls me to him, tucking me into his side and pressing his lips to my hair.

“Mom, this is Riley.” He introduces me, and I’m taken aback by his overt display of affection in front of her. Is this the behavior of someone who’s engaged? Maybe his father was lying. I don’t know what to believe anymore.

“It’s nice to meet you, Riley. I’m Carla.”

“Nice to meet you too, ma’am.”

Jacob comes to stand behind his mother and places a hand on her shoulder. It’s not controlling; it’s more of a comforting touch. He gives me a warm smile.

“Nice to see you again, Riley.”

I nod and smile back at him. This is odd. I don’t know what to make of any of it. They all seem perfectly fine with me being here, and I start to believe that maybe Oliver’s father wasn’t telling me the truth about his engagement. I try not to get my hopes up. Instead, I focus on getting through tonight.

“I made dinner. It’s nothing fancy, but I thought y’all might be hungry by the time you got back.”

“That’s so sweet of you.” Carla smiles at me. “Would you like me to help you with anything?”

“No, ma’am, it’s not trouble at all,” I say breaking out of Oliver’s hold and heading into the kitchen. He follows behind me going to one of the cabinets and taking out enough plates for everyone. He grabs silverware out of a drawer and begins to set the table in the adjacent dining room. I grab the serving dishes that I found earlier and begin to set out the food.