Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Chapter 27
EVIE
After my reaction in the jewelry store, I spend the next few days making sure I’m around Oliver as little as possible. I go to work, take on an extra shift, and go to Nora’s so often I think she must be sick of the sight of me. It feels like Bo and I walk the length and breadth of London, pausing only for coffee (a puppuccino for him) and snacks in outdoor cafés. We sit under a variety of trees and parasols as I try not to contemplate life and the mess I’m making of it as London bustles by. I’m not just avoiding Oliver; I’m avoiding the feelings that being near him bring. I can’t think straight when he’s standing in front of me.
Meanwhile, the ring from Garrard sits on the dresser in my bedroom, a daily reminder of the mess I’ve gotten myself into.
“This is for you.”
I jolt at the sound of Oliver’s voice, almost dropping my toast in shock. I know he already left because I waited until I heard the door click closed before leaving my room.
He sets a folder on the table next to my napkin.
“Visa stuff?” As I glance up, I find he’s wearing black-framed glasses. I discovered last week that he wears them for reading. I’d smiled and squirreled away the tiny fact, imagining his vanity had kept it from me. This morning, it feels more like a reminder that we’re not in a relationship.
“I thought you’d want to read through the paperwork.” Sliding the frames from his face, he folds them and slips them into his jacket pocket. His chosen suit is navy today, his shirt open at the neck, his watch a chunky silver Chopard. “Ariana said she’d taken you through the gist of things before she submitted the application.”
“Yeah, she did. And I got my receipt with the processing times. It seems you’ll have your house before my visa comes through.”
He nods, then adds, “That doesn’t mean things have to change.”
“What do you mean?” Silly heart, please calm down.
“That you don’t have to move out.”
My laughter sounds strange. “I was thinking I’d find myself a place way before then. I might start looking next week. You know, after the big meet.” The big meet that might go so badly that he’ll want to be rid of me, because I have no idea what he thinks I’ll be able to achieve.
“No.” One adamant word, his diction sharp. “That doesn’t suit me. The agreement was three months, and we’re barely one month in.”
“Oliver, I need to pull my life together. I can’t hide out here forever.”
He folds his arms across his chest, staring down at me as though I’m some wayward subordinate who might be cowed by his magnificence. I’m not cowed, but I am appreciative. Which is an issue in itself.
“I have to get on with my life.”
“If you leave before the twelve weeks is up, it’s a breach of contract,” he intones stonily.
“You know a verbal contract isn’t worth the paper it isn’t printed on,” I counter in the opposite tone, all jokey and lighthearted.
“Eve.” He steps closer, his finger under my chin as he brings my gaze to his. “Don’t test me on this.”
I make a derisive noise as I jerk from his hold. My heart shoots into my throat as, like a prizefighter knocked down, I’m on my feet as though my survival depends on it.
“You don’t get to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.” My tone is low and hard. Bo scrambles out from under the table, stepping between us with a low growl. He hunkers down, hackles rising in his fur. “You think you’re the only one who can be a pain in the ass? You think me being here can’t get difficult for you?”
Oliver reaches for the remains of my toast, then Bo is chasing it across the room. My fair-weather friend’s taste for peanut butter makes him a shitty guard dog.
“Don’t tell me. You’re going to withhold sex?”
“Having sex with you would imply I like you.” My eyes glitter over him. “Or at least some part of you.”
“If you need reminding which parts of me you do like, just let me know.”
“I don’t like any part of you.”
“Oh, but you do. Read the documents, darling.” Reaching out, he taps the folder with his index finger.
Wariness skitters down my spine. He’d better not have . . .
“No. My application is for a working visa.” Ariana, the immigration lawyer said so. “I checked the paperwork before I signed it.”
“And the supplemental documents? My signed affidavit? Did you happen to see that?”
“What affidavit?” What the hell is he up to now?
“We decided a settled relationship would be an extra layer of solidity to your application. So that’s what we have, you and I. You wouldn’t want to move out before you have your visa and prove that a lie.”