That Night...
1304 Words
Oscar returned to the mansion just after five.
The drive home had been uneventful.
The day had not.
His phone rested on the passenger seat beside him, the screen lighting up every few minutes with emails, messages, and reminders.
None of them were from Vivian, which was beginning to irritate him more than it should.
The revised merger proposal had been sent to her office that morning.
By now, she should have reviewed it or rejected it or insulted it or threatened to burn it.
Something.
Instead, there had been no feedback. Not even when he told Charles to call and also questions. All he got was,
Ms. Vivian will respond as soon as she can.
Oscar stepped out of the car and handed his keys to one of the staff members before entering the house.
The foyer was quiet as usual. He loosened his tie as he walked toward the stairs.
“Welcome, Mr. Onyx.” Zara greeted quietly.
He sent a curt nod her way and halfway up the stairs, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and groaned.
It was Rick.
God, what does this old man want again?
He could ignore it but knowing his grandfather and his relentless tongue, he'd blow up his phone until he responded.
He slid on the receive button.
"Grandfather."
"My favorite grandson." He said in sarcasm. The old man's favourite grandchild was definitely not him.
Oscar exhaled. “What is it?”
Rick tuts, "you disrespectful brat! That is not the way to greet your grandfather! A ‘how are you doing?’ would have surfied!”
Oscar sighed. “You only call when you need something. I'm exhausted, old man, what is it?”
"I have wonderful news."
That sentence alone made Oscar suspicious.
"Should I be worried?"
"Family dinner tonight."
Oscar closed his eyes. Of course.
"Why?"
"Melody is in town." The old man cheered. “How my sweet granddaughter! She worries about me more than some grandson I have.”
Oscar pinched the bridge of his nose. His grandfather's whining could be irritating sometimes.
His younger sister rarely stayed in one place long enough for family gatherings.
"She's back?" He asked.
"For a few days." Rick sounded pleased. "Which means everyone is attending dinner. Louis is trying to call Vivian but her phone isn't unreachable. You need to tell her about..."
Oscar already knew where this was going. "No."
Rick gasped. “You’re not going to stop by to say hi to your sister?! What kind of elder brother are you?”
“Tell her to stop by my office. Problem solved.”
“Come on! She didn't get to attend the wedding. It's the least you can do.”
Oscar rubbed the bridge of his nose. The things you do for family.
"What time?"
Rick immediately sounded victorious. "Eight."
"Grandfather.."
"Eight."
The line went dead before he could say anything else.
Oscar stared at the phone and lowered it slowly. There was no point arguing with Rick once he had made up his mind.
Which meant someone needed to inform Vivian. A task he immediately regretted volunteering himself for.
Someone had to tell her.
Oscar headed toward the opposite wing of the mansion reluctantly.
A maid carrying fresh flowers stepped aside the moment she saw him approaching.
"Good evening, sir."
He nodded. A few moments later he reached Vivian's door.
The music reached him first; it was soft and barely audible.
Oscar knocked once but got no answer. He knocked again, still nothing.
He frowned. Then pushed the door open only for the words to die in his throat.
Vivian stood near the dressing area with her back partially turned, stripped down to nothing but her underwear.
She was leaning on the dresser, like she'd been wiping off her make up.
His eyes went down the length of her body, the fullness of her chest, those legs he could have sworn had been wrapped around his waist before…
Oscar turned his back to her immediately. "Sorry."
The apology left his mouth automatically.
Vivian's voice came from somewhere behind him.
"You know most people wait for permission before entering a room."
Oscar kept his gaze firmly fixed outside still, grip tightening on his coat.
"Most people answer when someone knocks."
He had a point.
“We have a family dinner to attend tonight. Melody is back in town.”
Understanding crossed her face.
"Oh." She paused. "Is she staying long?"
"A few days."
Vivian nodded slowly. Unlike most people, she genuinely liked Melody. That probably explained why she didn't immediately refuse.
"What time?"
"Eight."
She sighed. "I had plans."
"So did I."
For some reason that answer amused her and a faint smile appeared on her lips.
"I'll be ready."
Oscar nodded.
The conversation should have ended there.
It didn't.
Because as he stood there, something tugged unexpectedly at the edge of his memory.
A moment from years ago, blurred around the edges.
The birth mark on a thigh he had placed a drunken kiss on many years ago…
He tilted his head, brows furrowed. He could have sworn he saw the birthmark on Vivian's thighs just now.
“Is there anything else?”
“No.”
He walked away, the door swinging shut behind him.
The hallway suddenly felt much warmer in an annoying way.
Oscar walked toward his own room but the memory seemed to follow him relentlessly.
A glimpse of someone disappearing into darkness. A breathy moan that had haunted his dreams for a while now.
For years he had assumed he knew exactly who had been there that night. It was Athena.
Right?
He entered his room and immediately loosened his tie, the memory still refused to leave.
Neither did the questions attached to it which made absolutely no sense.
He leaned on his table, breathing already changing slightly as the image of Vivian replayed in his head.
Her leaning over the dresser…the arch of her back..
“Bloody hell.” he muttered, his hard on reminding him just how much effect she still had on him.
He shut his eyes, fist clenched hard against the table as he tried to breathe.
No. He can't deal with this now. The last time, he could barely contain himself and even now, his body was betraying him again.
Oscar had always been in control. Not even Athena could get him hard by being visually appealing. Hell, not any woman under that sun but here he was.
Losing control like some f*****g animal.
Minutes later, he found himself in the gym, running on the treadmill. The familiar scent of rubber flooring and steel seemed to ground him but did nothing for the desires replaying in his head.
His concentration drifted again to those legs.
Oscar's steady pace faltered, forcing him to catch himself against the support attached to the treadmill.
Across the room, the mirrored wall reflected a man who looked entirely too distracted.
That irritated him more than the distraction itself.
He wasn't this person. He didn't obsess over the past.
But that birthmark on Vivian's thigh replayed over and over again, overlapping with the memory of that night.
No.
He was overthinking.
That was all.
Oscar grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face.
Yes. That had to be it.
No matter how great his memory was, he could have made a mistake surely.
There was no reason to draw conclusions from fragments.
No reason at all.
He was tired, simply tired, overworked and distracted.
That was it. Nothing more.
Oscar looked toward the clock mounted on the wall.
Seven thirty-five.
It was time to get ready for dinner.
Unfortunately, as he headed for the door, one irritating thought followed him all the way out of the gym.
What if he wasn't remembering it wrong?
- Writer
