Chapter 4
1284 Words
The morning sun filtered through the massive windows like quiet judgment. Olivia pulled the sheets tighter around her, the cold side of the bed reminding her she hadn’t been alone in it for long—technically.
Elijah had slept on the couch. Or claimed to.
His absence made the room feel emptier than expected.
She slipped into the kitchen and blinked. Elijah—perfectly dressed in a charcoal suit and pale blue shirt—stood by the island, scrolling through his tablet. Next to him sat two mugs of steaming coffee.
One black. One with milk and sugar.
“You made coffee?” she asked, blinking.
He looked up, mildly amused. “I’m capable of basic human function.”
She raised a brow. “Says the man who thinks emotional intimacy is a virus.”
He chuckled under his breath. “Touché.”
Olivia reached for the mug with milk. The warmth seeped into her fingers, oddly grounding.
“You slept well?” he asked, casually, like they weren’t strangers sharing a penthouse and a contract-bound marriage.
“As well as someone in a designer prison can.”
His lips twitched. “Try not to call it that in front of my board members.”
She took a sip. “Noted.”
Elijah’s eyes lingered a second longer than necessary. “You have a meeting with Valentina today. We're expected to show face.”
She sighed. “Do I have to hold your hand in public?”
“It wouldn’t kill you,” he said, walking past her. “Or maybe it would.”
*****
Later that afternoon, they arrived at the venue—a grand hall owned by one of Elijah’s subsidiary companies. Valentina was already there, clipboard in hand, barking orders at the staff.
When she saw Elijah and Olivia walking in, she pasted on a smile so fake Olivia swore she smelled plastic.
“Elijah, Olivia—so glad you could join us,” she said, her gaze lingering on their joined hands.
Olivia forced a smile, letting Elijah’s fingers brush hers lightly. The contact sent an unwelcome jolt through her.
Valentina leaned in. “You make such a stunning couple.”
“Thank you,” Olivia said sweetly, though her jaw clenched.
Elijah, ever the ice king, offered a nod. “Let’s get to it.”
They walked the hall with the team, discussing table arrangements, lighting design, and the guest list. Olivia tried to focus, but Elijah’s presence beside her was distracting. Not just because of his looks—but because of the way he was behaving.
Protective. Calm. Even… warm?
Was this the same man who had practically growled at her two weeks ago?
Few hours later then the doors swung open—and in strode Jared Lawson, Elijah’s best friend and legal advisor. Dressed in a slate-grey suit with an effortless swagger, Jared was the kind of man who turned heads without trying.
“About time,” Jared said. “You two look like you just stepped off a wedding cake.”
“Morning to you too,” Elijah replied flatly.
Jared gave Olivia a wink. “Mrs. Williams.”
“Mr. Lawson,” Olivia said with mock formality.
She liked Jared. He was the only one who didn’t look at her like she didn’t belong. He treated her like a person, not a pawn in Elijah’s billionaire chess game.
“We good?” Jared asked Elijah quietly, tilting his head toward Olivia.
“She’s not trying to poison me in my sleep. I’d say we’re ahead of schedule,” Elijah muttered.
“I heard that,” Olivia said, sipping her coffee.
Jared chuckled, looking between them like a spectator at a tennis match. “Careful, man. She’s growing on me.”
Elijah just grunted.
Valentina waved them toward the layout table, where seating charts and vendor lists spilled across the surface like confetti.
“Okay, team,” she chirped. “Let’s finalize the Williams gala layout. This needs to be perfect.”
They spent the next hour navigating floral arrangements and guest lists. Elijah stayed close, his hand brushing Olivia’s from time to time—not entirely for show.
Olivia caught him watching her more than once. Not with lust. Not with judgment.
But with curiosity. And confusion.
Like she didn’t fit the mold he’d put her in.
And then, disaster strolled in—wearing six-inch Louboutins and a tailored black coat.
Amelia Montgomery.
Ex-fiancée. Socialite. PR nightmare.
“Elijah,” she said, her voice smooth and sharp. “Didn’t think I’d find you playing house quite so soon.”
Olivia froze.
Amelia’s eyes skimmed her like she was nothing more than a speed bump. “And this must be the wife. Adorable.”
Elijah stiffened. “Amelia, we’re busy.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t take long,” she said, then turned to Olivia with a blade of a smile. “How long has it been? A few weeks since the announcement? So quick. How…convenient.”
Jared stepped in smoothly. “Amelia. Maybe don’t poke the bear today.”
“I’m just saying hi,” she said innocently. “I mean, the papers didn’t even mention a proposal. Or a ring. Just a wedding out of nowhere.”
Elijah’s jaw ticked. “Because our life isn’t your press release.”
Amelia smiled sweetly. “Touchy.”
Olivia finally stepped forward. “You seem like someone who’s used to getting attention. But you won’t get mine.”
Amelia blinked.
Jared let out a low whistle. “Oof. She’s good.”
“I like her,” Elijah said under his breath.
Amelia narrowed her eyes. “For now. But let’s see how long that lasts.”
With a dismissive turn, she walked off, heels clicking like gunshots.
The room held its breath.
Jared broke the silence. “So that was subtle.”
“She hasn’t changed,” Elijah said tightly.
Olivia watched him for a moment. The set jaw. The clenched fists. The storm behind his eyes.
“You okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine.”
“She gets to you,” Olivia said softly.
He didn’t answer. But the way he exhaled told her everything.
Back at the penthouse, the silence stretched as they rode the elevator up. Elijah hadn’t said a word since they left the venue.
When the doors opened, he walked to the bar and poured a drink.
Olivia leaned against the marble counter. “You want to talk about her?”
“No.”
“You want to punch a wall?”
His lips twitched. “Maybe.”
She crossed her arms. “You didn’t have to defend me back there.”
“I wasn’t defending you,” he said, then corrected himself. “Not just you.”
She blinked. “What does that mean?”
“It means Amelia always plays the long game. She likes control. When I married you, she lost hers.”
“Why does she want it back?”
He looked at her. “Because she thinks I belong to her.”
A beat of silence passed.
“I don’t,” he added. “Not anymore.”
And something in his voice—low and ragged—made Olivia’s chest tighten.
He turned away again. “You didn’t sign up for all this.”
“No,” she said. “But I’m not running either.”
Elijah stared at her like she’d just done something dangerous. Like she’d peeled another layer off the version of him he kept locked away.
He didn’t speak again. But that night, as she curled under the blankets, she swore she heard him outside her door—just breathing.
Just listening.
- Writer
