Chapter 4

OLIVIA POV

My heart stopped.

Not slowed. Stopped.

Ten feet away, beside the free weights, stood a man in black workout clothes, one hand resting on a barbell. Dark, messy hair. A sharp jaw. And those eyes. Narrow, blue, and unmistakable.

The man from the hotel suite two days ago.

No. No, no, no.

I spun around so fast I nearly knocked over the towel cart. Flashes of that night crashed through my head. His hands at my waist. His voice in my ear. The city lights glowing behind him.

I pressed my palm against my chest. Breathe, Olivia. Breathe.

"Olivia?" Charles appeared beside me, frowning. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Worse," I whispered. "Much worse."

"Don't tell me. The blue dumbbells got you."

"Charles." I grabbed his arm. "That man over there. Black shirt. Who is he?"

He glanced over, then immediately looked away. "Oh. Him. Don't stare."

"Why?"

"Because he doesn't like it. Platinum member. Comes in every day at this time, trains alone, and never talks to staff." He lowered his voice. "Nobody here knows much about him, and nobody asks."

Perfect. A mystery man. A man I knew far too well.

I picked up a stack of towels, mostly so I'd have something to hold, and walked in the opposite direction.

Stay calm. He's just a member. You are just an employee. That night never happened.

Except my body remembered. My skin remembered his hands, and my traitorous heart was pounding like it wanted to run toward him instead of away.

I wiped a spotless machine. Then another. Then I handed a man a bottle of water he hadn't asked for. He stared at it, confused, and thanked me anyway.

Then I felt it. That weight on the back of my neck. The shift in the air.

I knew he was watching me before I turned my head.

He wasn't hiding it anymore.

He was standing by the mirror, sweat darkening his shirt, his eyes locked on me. Not angry. Not surprised.

Amused.

He recognizes me.

I whipped my head forward, my face burning. I could run. I could say I felt sick and go home. I could quit on my very first day.

Don't you dare. You need this job.

"Excuse me."

The voice came from right behind me.

Low. Calm. Familiar.

I froze.

Slowly, I turned around, for the second time that day.

He stood close. Too close. Close enough that I could smell his cologne, the same one that had clung to my hair that morning in the hotel. Up close, he was even taller, and the black shirt clung to him in a way that was frankly offensive.

His eyes dropped to my chest.

My brain short-circuited. What is he—

Then I remembered the name tag.

"Olivia," he read slowly, as if tasting the word. His eyes lifted back to mine.

My mouth went dry.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

The corner of his mouth curved. Barely. Dangerous.

He leaned in just a fraction, and my pulse jumped. "Water, please."

"W-what?"

"I'd like a bottle of water. You do work here, don't you?"

I grabbed the nearest bottle with a trembling hand and held it out. He took it, and his fingers brushed mine.

Electric. Exactly like that night.

I snatched my hand back.

He unscrewed the cap, took a slow sip, and watched me over the rim of the bottle like I was something he was deciding what to do with.

"Relax," he said quietly. "I'm not going to say anything."

"There's nothing to say."

"Then you have nothing to worry about." He turned to leave, then paused. "Nice to meet you, Olivia."

And he walked away. Calm. Unhurried. Like he owned the whole room.

I stood there with my heart racing and one single thought screaming in my head:

He knows my name.

He knows where I work.

And I don't even know his.

Daniel was obviously a lie.

"You talked to him?" Charles whispered, suddenly beside me again, his eyes wide.

"He asked for water."

"Olivia. In two years, that man has never asked any of us for anything."

Great. Just great.

I had barely survived one conversation with him. And now he knew exactly where to find me.

I spent the next hour hiding in the equipment room, folding towels that were already folded. Every time the door opened, my stomach dropped. But he didn't come back. By four o'clock, I changed, grabbed my bag, and walked home faster than I had ever walked in my life.

It's fine. He's a stranger. A one-time mistake. Nothing will come of it.

I repeated it all the way home, past the quiet streets and the overgrown gardens, until the words stopped sounding like words at all.

Ms Suzi was setting a tray of tea on the living room table when I walked in. Her eyes were red, and she wouldn't meet mine. She squeezed my shoulder once and slipped quietly out of the room.

That was when I noticed Dad.

For once, he wasn't hiding in his room. He sat on the sofa with his hands clasped, his face pale and tired. A fresh bruise darkened his wrist.

"Olivia. Sit down, please."

My stomach twisted.

I sat. "What is it, Dad?"

"I was going to tell you last night." He swallowed hard. "The man I owe, Mr. Lance, he doesn't want money anymore."

"Then what does he want?"

He couldn't look at me.

He cleared his throat. "Mr. Lance wants a grandchild." His voice cracked. "He said if you give his son a child, every debt disappears. Everything."

The room went silent.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm a terrible father for even saying this. But you're the only one who can help us live a normal life again."

For a moment, I thought I had misheard him.

I pulled my hands away. "You want me to have a baby?"

He swallowed. "He wants to see you tomorrow. At his office. He'll tell you everything himself."

I stood up so fast my head spun. "Who is his son?"

"I don't know. I've never met him."

"And if I say no?" My voice came out smaller than I meant it to.

Dad closed his eyes. "Then I don't think either of us will be safe."

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I didn't hear anything else he said. Only my own heartbeat.

That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Two days ago, I had chosen a stranger for one night. Now my father was asking me to give one a child.

A baby. For a man I had never met. To pay for a debt I had never made.

Mom would have known what to say. She always did. But the house was silent, and the only thing I could hear was the clock ticking.

I hadn't even gotten the chance to tell him I got the job.

My job. My life. My dreams.

I can't have a child!