004 — The Delivery

Olivia's POV 

“Okay then… How is it with the Elite guest list?”

I asked, my eyes scanning the list on the long glass table. The meeting room smelled of fresh coffee, warm paper, and the tension was still present. Soft afternoon light came through the tall windows and landed across the papers in front of us. My team sat around me in their neat suits and blouses, tablets and folders open.

“Nothing from the Thornes yet, ma’am.” 

One of the junior staff members spoke, her voice careful and low.

I tapped my pen once against the glass. The sound was sharp in the quiet room.

“We sent the formal invitation two weeks ago,” Another man followed up, adjusting his glasses. “Followed up by email three times and once by courier. Still no reply. Not even a rejection.”

“The CEO of Thorne Group doesn’t show his face anywhere,” A woman across from me added. She leaned forward, her fingers tight around her pen. “No photos. No interviews. No social presence at all. Some people in the industry still say he doesn’t even exist.”

I leaned back in my chair. The cool leather pressed against my back. My shoulders felt heavy.

“He’s real, just not reachable, ” I said. “And every top businessman in this city wants an alliance with him. That’s why this gala matters. Networking is one thing. Getting Thorne in the room is the real goal. We need him to make an appearance..”

Silence sat for a second. Someone shifted in their seat. A chair creaked.

“Tell the team to keep pressing,” I sighed out as soon as one of the members said that the CEO of Thorne Group still hadn’t made a statement on his presence at the gala.

“Even if he doesn’t show up, we’ll just keep our focus on the Fontana deal. That one is almost closed. We can’t afford to look desperate.”

Heads nodded around the table. A few people murmured agreement.

“Dismissed.”

I said, my voice low as I stood up, leaving the meeting room for my office. My heels clicked softly on the marble floor. The hallway felt longer than usual. The air smelled faintly of the flowers the staff kept at the reception desk. My body still carried the heavy tiredness from yesterday. The emptiness in my stomach still ached when I thought too long.

I sat down at my desk, still tired but knowing I had to work. The chair hugged my back. I stretched a bit, started reviewing some documents before I retired for the night. Numbers and names swam a little on the page. My eyes burned. I rubbed my temple with two fingers.

Just then, the door opened again.

I lifted my head fast, catching a glimpse.

A man in a dark food delivery jacket stood there. His cap was pulled low over his forehead, and a black nose mask covered half his face. A brown paper bag hung from his hand. The logo on the jacket looked cheap and wrinkled.

“I didn’t order anything… Wrong office,” I said, turning back to my work as soon as I saw the food delivery jacket the delivery guy was wearing.

I paused, noticing he was still there.

The door clicked shut behind him with a soft, final sound. The air in the room suddenly changed.

“I didn’t place an order.”

My voice stayed firm, but something cold slid down my spine.

“You did, ma’am…”

I gasped, my hands shaking as soon as he removed his nose mask and cap.

Those sharp dark eyes.

The same strong jaw.

The tattoos snaking up the side of his neck, black and bold against his skin. Dark hair fell loose once the cap was gone.

“You—”

My throat closed for a second.

“Don’t act surprised...  I told you that we’re not done.”

I stood up, my hands shaking, watching him fix his hair. Dark strands fell back into place with a casual sweep of his fingers.

He walked toward me slowly, placing his package on my table. The brown bag made a soft, heavy sound against the wood.

He placed both hands on the table, stretching his face toward me, smiling like a psycho. His ease and audacity were what turned my head up. The scent of him reached me again—clean soap mixed with something darker, like smoke and skin.

My heart hammered hard against my ribs. Fear slid cold down my spine and settled in my stomach. But I kept my chin up. My fingers pressed flat against the desk so he wouldn’t see them tremble.

“I have something to tell you… More like a proposal—”

“I’m not interested in anything you have to say,” I hurled out, so pissed. My voice stayed steady even though my pulse jumped in my neck.

“Get out now before I call security.”

I smirked sharply, maintaining eye contact. Even  though I was unsteady on the inside, I refused to look away first.

He tilted his head. The tattoos on his neck shifted with the movement.

“Okay then…”

He turned, leaving just as I knew he would. He wouldn’t want to be dragged out. His steps were quiet on the floor.

My shoulders started to drop. A small breath left my lungs.

Then he stopped near the door.

“Ohh… About last night, it was the best night of my life…” He turned back, that nasty smile back on his face. Wide. Slow.

I blinked hard, trying to process what he had just said. I couldn't believe my ears.

“I enjoyed every second of it. I can never forget such a ecstatic night.. .”

“What—”

I mumbled, so taken aback. I just couldn’t believe what he was saying right now. Heat rushed up my neck and burned my ears.

I chuckled low as I walked toward him, standing a few inches from him. Close enough to see the dark ink on his neck move when he breathed. Close enough to feel the heat coming off his body.

“I’m a woman… I’d know if you touched me or not.”

I said, looking right at him. My voice came out low and hard.

“And you didn’t,” I added, so confident because it was the truth. I'm sure of it.. Nothing happened that night..

His smile only grew.

“True… I was a perfect gentleman. Didn’t lay a finger on you the way I wanted. But I’d like to hear what your hotshot husband has to say on the matter. Imagine the story I could tell him. His perfect wife, out all night in some stranger’s bed after losing their baby. How do you think that conversation goes?”

He smirked, turning to leave again.

The smirk confirmed my doubts that he was going to meet my husband. Cold fear spread through my chest like ice water. My throat tightened until it hurt to swallow. The thoughts of what might happen if my husband hears about this flooded my mind..... He'll be so heartbroken..

“What the hell do you want?”

I asked finally, trying my best not to lose it. My voice came out low and rough.

He stopped and turned back fully.

“I knew you’d come around.”

He smiled in a way that pissed me off even more, his lips wide like he already owned the next move.

“Let’s go on a date tonight.”

“Wh—What—”

I stuttered upon hearing that, not believing my ears. My hands curled into fists at my sides.

“I promise it’s going to be so thrilling I’m not sure you can handle it. Something different. Something that’ll make that perfect little life of yours feel a bit more… interesting.”

I blinked twice at him, wondering how I got involved with such an insane person. My palms felt damp. My pulse jumped hard in my neck. Fear sat heavy in my stomach, but under it something harder burned.

I would not let this man own me.

“The place and time is in the box… Make sure you look so hot for me and don’t be a second late. I hate waiting.”

I turned slowly to the box, then back to him. His face was damn serious now. No more playful smile. Just cold certainty in his eyes, full of mischief.. Just when I thought he'll ask for a cheque..

"Fuck," I mumbled to myself, my mind spinning. I just don't get the game that he's playing.

“Enjoy your cookies. They’re still warm.”

He walked out.

The door closed softly behind him.

The quiet that followed felt too loud.

I stood alone in the office. The brown bag sat on my desk like a threat. My hands still shook. Fear sat heavy in my stomach, cold and tight, but under it, anger burned steady.

I scoffed, just wondering if I would be able to really get out of this…

“I’m so fucked…”