Olive. The Trilogy.

  “Sweetheart, I think we got off on the wrong foot here.” Mr. McNulty spoke with a clear dominating voice as his eyes, roamed and undressed the brunette sitting across from him. Leaning forward to adjust his position on the black leather office chair, stationed behind the prominent and polished oak wood desk, he unbuttoned his navy blue Tom Ford, suit jacket. “Here at Mac & Nult Industries, we have a reputation for looking out for our own and if I may say so myself, we’re very good at it.” A smug smile graced his lips, showing off teeth that; clearly get whitened on a regular basis. “Now, we wouldn’t want you and your, rather” Mr. McNulty paused for a fraction, searching the air for the right word “quaint; business to get the wrong idea of what we are capable of.  The last thing any of us would want is for anything tragic to happen to you. Say, you suddenly going missing – disappearing without a trace – or you find yourself beaten bloody and discarded – only – because you chose to be on the wrong side of things.” He threatened, making the smug smile etched into his features turn into one of victory. “And it would bring me a great deal of sadness, to see such a stunning woman like yourself plucked from the world before we’ve gotten to know each other. More…” his emerald eyes turning dark “intimately. Comply with my terms and you’ll also reap all the benefits I have to offer,” he continued with a condescending smile and suggestive eyes.   Olive smiled back at him, despite her fast growing disgust for the man before her. Her pearly white teeth glowed in the darkness of the room. The blinds on the windows had been shut and the only thing illuminating the big rustic office was the chandelier dangling over the glass coffee table behind the pair. Olive licked her blood red, stained lips and leaned back in her seat.   “You should understand one thing Mr. McNulty” Olive kept her hazel brown eyes trained on the navy suit clad man in front of her. Her gaze never wavering, she was like a predator on the hunt, locked in and focused. “Myself and my - what did you call it?” thinking back to one of the insults he flung her way “Oh yes.” She chuckled sardonically; no traces of amusement on her face “quaint business, are also effective at getting what we want.”   “Well, sweetheart-“ Mr. McNulty went to speak but was silenced by Olive’s hand.   “Let me explain to you how this is going to happen. You will give me five million for the diamonds.” Leaning forward, Olive narrowed her eyes and kept Mr. McNulty’s gaze “Then you are going to go home” on the big, brown wooden desk separating the two, sat two photo frames, one being a photo of Clary – Mr. McNulty’s wife – the other a photo of the seemingly, happily married couple together. Olive picked up the frame that contained the photo of a blonde, blue eyed whose beauty had aged, and stared at how Clary’s blonde extensions came cascading down her body in thick unnatural curls “and kiss your wife. Then you’ll probably bend her over the desk, in your home office” Olive looked up and locked on a pair of angry, prickly green orbs “because, lets face it, it’s the only time you really feel like a man. Then you are going to come back to work feeling very accomplished.” With a failed attempt at suppressing another eye roll, Olive continued. “Maybe you’ll use the diamonds to buy - what is your wife’s name again?” she asked more-so to herself, accenting her dramatization of the moment with the snapping of her long slender fingers “ah yes, Clary.”   “How did you know he-“ he started but was silenced for the second time.   “Ah ah ah. I haven’t finished” Olive reprimanded “you’ll probably buy Clary a new car or one of those expensive designer handbags; we both know she has an unhealthy obsession with. So she can show off to her rich, pretentious, bored housewife friends. Who, in turn would – without a doubt – tell their husbands” Olive smirked, knowing that she had Mr. McNulty where she wanted him “who, would not only be jealous of the money and power that you’ve worked hard” cue another eye roll “to accumulate but also at the rate at which it is growing. Which will then lead to the hard on you get, when your fragile ego is stroked and f**k your way through every intern under 22 in this building.” Olive scoffed, “You’re quite f****d up, you are aware of that right?” she taunted, the question rhetorical. “You can have all of that” again, she rolled her eyes “or-“   “You said three million for the diamonds. That was the deal. I will not give a cent more than that.” Mr. McNulty spoke, fury seeping through his tone “and quite frankly, I am insulted that you think you can come into my office and talk to me and about my wife like that. You clearly don’t know who I am and what I am capable of, but you are in luck. I am in a good mood today; I understand how frustrated women get, when they get about as much attention as a rock at the bottom of the ocean. I’ll chuck your disrespect to your lack of a s*x life.” He paused smugly before adding, “so this is how this is going to happen.” He repeated Olive’s words back to her. “You will leave the diamonds at the drop site and once I have them in my possession a wire transfer of two million will be in your account.” Looking very accomplished with himself, Mr. McNulty kept speaking. “The price change is a result of your absurd confidence. Then once businesses has been conducted, I will find you and I will teach you ways of feeling pain you never thought possible. Are we clear?” Olive let out a little chuckle at his sorry attempt to scare her.     “Quite the speech there Michael.” Olive sat back in her seat “really. If that was not one of the most horrific displays of heightened testosterone then I don’t know what is. But you see the thing is, I’m nothing like the people you do business with. I’m not like the Algerian’s or the Columbian’s.” Michael’s eyebrows furrowed, astounded at Olive’s knowledge of his black market deals with the aforementioned arms and drug dealers. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, Michael watched as she stood. Her body wrapped in a wine red, curve-accentuating dress, paired with a black trench coat and black, red bottom stiletto heels. Olive placed the picture frame back on the table this time closer to him “I’m way worse.”   “The price has been raised to six million. Three million for the diamonds and another three million for being a pompous asshole.” Running a perfectly manicured finger over the frame, Olive tapped it bringing the attention to the blonde in the frame “you have until 6pm tomorrow night.” Olive turned to leave, feeling insulted at having spent more time in Michael’s office than she intended. But before she could walk away, he grabbed her hand holding it in a vice grip.   “Now you listen here b***h!” Michael sneered, tightening his clasp around her wrist. “You will not-“   Tugging Michael’s arm and using the momentum of his falling body, Olive shifted her stance in a very slick and animalistic way. She pulled Michael onto the sturdy desk and twisted his arm behind his back, applying pressure with the aid of her body. Michael yelled out in pain, letting a stream of unsavory curses and insults hurdling her way.   “Listen carefully d**k for brains” Olive gritted out through clenched teeth, her lips dangerously close to Michael’s ear “let us not waste any time. Give me what I want and I’ll forgo the burning desire to castrate you where you stand.” Her words laced with venom “do as you’re told and there will be no consequences. Don’t? And you will watch everyone that you love die. Mhm?” Not bothering to wait for a response  “Good talk” Olive added with a smile, patting the top of Michael’s head like he was a dog. And with that she let his arm go and strutted out of the office, the sound of her heels echoing the finality of her words.   “Martha!” Olive called out as she entered a modern penthouse suite, situated in a tall high-rise building, smack in the middle of the city “Martha I’m home!” Removing her heels, Olive walked further into the place she’d been calling home for the past eighteen months. It was a beautiful modern space, fitted with floor to ceiling windows that had a perfect view of the city. The dark grey laminate floors complimented the light grey walls and the white color of the high ceiling. In the center of the spacious open plan suite sat a large black ‘L’ shaped sofa adorned with yellow and white pillows that matched the two charcoal pillows on the off-white single couch to the right. Snuggled under the large sofa was a light grey fluffy carpet, with a glass coffee table in the center, adjacent to the immaculate 55-inch curve flat screen TV. Olive picked and placed her heels on the floor near the couch and removed her trench coat, draping it over the couch. Taking a seat, she sighed and stretched her legs out, claiming the entire space.   “Martha!” Olive called out once more, waiting to hear a response. When one didn’t come she shrugged turning on the TV.   A few minutes into watching one of her favorite TV shows, the elevator door made a dinging noise, signaling someone was entering the home. Olive craned her head back to see who it was – she hoped it was Martha coming home with bags filled with baked goods. Just as the doors opened, the hairs on her body stood straight. Her heartbeat increased by a beat, forcing her eyes to glow a bright golden color. He was close. Forcing her breathing to slow and her heart beat to return to it natural rhythm, Olive turned her head back to the screen, feeling betrayed by her body at its reaction.   “I swear, I’m going to wring that girls neck” Anthony, Olive’s older brother, spoke his voice echoing from the elevator. The vibrato and base that had been embedded in his tone proved his anger more than evident as he entered the room.   “Tony, relax.” His voice spoke; bringing overwhelming tingles to Olive’s sensitive skin “ask questions first, then violence later.” His low octave, velvet voice continued bringing sense into the conversation.   Anthony spotted Olive on the couch and his features morphed into one of immense rage. Suppressing a growl, Anthony stormed over to where his younger sister was seated, eyes planted on the TV. Stomping the short distance of the room he lugged himself firmly on the coffee table, in front of her, blocking her view of the screen.   “You’re not transparent, I can’t see through you.”   “Watching TV is the least of your worries, Liv.” Anthony responded, annoyance clear in the cadence of his tone and his ticking jaw.   “What are you talking about?” Olive questioned, looking already bored at where the conversation was heading. But bored, she was anything but. She could feel his gaze dancing on her sensitive skin, igniting a fire that she had spent years putting out. Anthony huffed; he had no relaxed bone in his body. The guy barely laughed, let alone cracked a smile. Everything about his demeanor screamed control freak. His hair was always perfectly trimmed, never growing past the collar of his shirt. If anyone was lucky enough to catch him with any stubble, it never grew past a five o’clock shadow.   “What did you say to Michael McNulty?” Anthony tried to ask calmly but was failing miserably “He wants to back out of the deal!”   “What did he say?”   “Well for starters, he said you got there and disrespected him, in his office nonetheless.” Anthony spat out. As his anger increased so did his temperature, showing a prominent vein running down his forehead, and sending waves of heat emanating from his body. “We can’t afford to have any heat on us, there’s too much at stake.”   “Ugh, he’s such a baby” Olive voiced, while rolling her eyes “and I didn’t disrespect him as soon as I got there” she peered up at her brother with mischief dancing in her eyes “I waited until; just before I left.”   “Olive.” He spoke, using a commanding tone as if to warn Olive to dial back the comedy, especially with Anthony’s rage steadily climbing.   With clenched fists Anthony tried to ignore Olive’s comment, “oh, and that’s not all, apparently you threatened his wife!” Anthony came to a standing position and towered over his bored looking sister. “And you know what was the best part?” He asked rhetorically even though Olive shrugged “he said you raised the price to six million?” The look of complete and utter disbelief etched onto the planes of Anthony’s face. No one, other than Martha – and that was sometimes (at best) – could ever fully understand Olive and the reasons behind her actions. So how did Anthony think he could just send her on a mission and have his instructions followed down to the tee? He had definitely put himself in an uncomfortable position including his sister in this plan but time was of the essence and his options weren’t that great. He had to work with what he had. Even if it meant going to bed with an Olive induced migraine.    “Anthony if you don’t relax, you’ll pop a vessel.” Was Olive’s response.   “f*****g hell Olive! We sent you there to sweeten the deal, not to destroy it.” Anthony paced the living room space as a show of the frustrating chore of controlling himself, the monsoon of rage edging closely behind.   “He’s a misogynistic, egotistical maniac who screws anything that walks, pays no regard to the rules of chivalry. He looks at women like we’ve been put on this planet to tend to his every desire! He only cares about money, even if that means killing innocent people or animals! He has a lion head in his office for f**k sakes. He’s the worst of them all. He’s a human pig! A dirty f*****g human pig!” Olive ranted, not appreciating her older brothers tone.    “He’s a pig with the money!” Anthony roared back, the sound forcing the walls to shake in protest. Well there goes control…   Olive stood from the couch not wanting to be a part of the conversation anymore. And mostly trying to get away from the object of her rising temperature, who had mostly remained quiet the entire time. But even with his lack of vocal presence, his entire aura was loud enough and undeniably present.  “Maybe you should ask Martha to ‘sweeten’ your deals” Anthony sent an aggressive growl – in warning – at the mention of his Mate “or maybe a different pig.” She suggested, trying to make her way to the kitchen to leave her brother and his self-righteous audacity behind. Anthony roughly pulled his sister by the arm, his body shaking with unshed rage. Another growl grew from the pit of his chest and ripped out of his mouth. Immediately his canines shot out and his eyes glowed an icy blue. His anger was getting harder to control and Olive wasn’t making it easier with her nonchalant attitude.   “Fix this. Now.” He seethed, not releasing his grasp from Olive’s arm.   “Let her go.” His deep, rich voice finally spoke from the corner. Olive’s body lit up like a Christmas tree – much to her dismay – her back straightened at the sound of the bass emanating from his chest, causing her hands to sweat and muscles to relax.   “Elijah, she’s ruining everything.” Anthony tried to get his best friend to see what was going on. Well, from his perspective any way. Tony had spent months planning this entire operation, calculating every single outcome. Figuring out all the ways things could go wrong. But there was no amount of calculations and planning in the world that could predict the storm known as Olive.   “Tony, let her go.” Elijah repeated and pushed off the beam he was leaning against and made his tall 6’5 frame over to where the Joubert siblings stood. Anthony reluctantly removed his grip from his sister and took a step back, giving her room to breathe.   “What happened?” Elijah calmly asked, hoping to defuse the thick tension in the room. Shifting his weight, he stood closer to Olive, and his body visibly relaxed as his heartbeat jumped at their proximity. Turning he finally looked at Olive and his world stopped for a fraction of a second; it was more than enough time for him to really bask in her effortless beauty. The untamable wildness in her hazel eyes, the confident smirk that seemed to always grace her full, red, plump lips. The way her muscles had gone from: stiff as a surfboard to as loose as wet spaghetti. He loved knowing he still had that affect on her, even though she fought hard to hide it.   With a small step back, to create some much needed space “I’m not doing this with you guys right now” Olive replied, trying to squeeze past Elijah’s muscular frame and avoid any physical contact whatsoever. Much to her dismay he stopped her with a light tug on her wrist, sending bolts of electricity shocking her entire system. It felt like she had just come up for air after long, undisturbed breathless minutes of being submerged under water. Olive’s skin felt fresh like all the dead skin had fled and left behind an intoxicatingly smooth surface that seemed to soften every time it was touched. Elijah searched her eyes for some sort of understanding but instead found a deeper pain that he was all too familiar with. Looking away, Olive wiped a traitorous tear that decided to make an unwarranted appearance. “Fine.” she sighed in compliance not before forcefully removing her wrist from Elijah’s electrifyingly warm, herculean, tattooed hand. “I went over there to close the deal like you guys asked. I obviously did my research on the guy first.” Olive rolled her eyes, a habit that was slowly getting out of hand “he’s a complete prick, he’s the reason why misogyny exists amongst humans. He poses a threat to our entire civilization. He’s the poster boy for ‘Men are trash’ I don’t ev-“ Olive was cut off by Elijah’s stern expression, he narrowed his eyes a bit, whilst holding up a single digit finger as if to say, “stop.” Olive kept quiet despite wanting to rip his finger clean off of his hand. Once given the permission to continue, Olive spoke again, this time cloaking her tone in boredom “We went back and forth about how the sale was going to go down. I told him we need the money first before he gets his diamonds, he didn’t agree. Then he threatened me with the whole ‘I’m a powerful guy, don’t mess with me’ spiel. I got a tad bit angry, as one naturally would, when their life is being threatened by a self centered, womanizing f**k-“   “Olive” Elijah spoke again, amusement danced in his eyes. His delectable voice silenced her but made her body sing in a chaotic symphony.   “Mm. Like I said, I got a tad bit upset and threatened him back and raised the price to six million.”   “One day, you and your brother’s ridiculously irrational bad temper will get you in trouble. Or even worse, outted.” Elijah threw the comment over his shoulder as he took a seat on the couch. There was nothing much he could do; he knew Olive wasn’t one to take s**t from any man, let alone a human.   “Ok.” Olive retorted, unimpressed at his comment “so…can I go or?” She needed to put distance between her and Elijah. Her head was being invaded by thoughts of him, even though she tried to push them out.   “You need to fix this.” Anthony was still seething.   “And you, need to shut up” Olive spat back.   “You both need to grow up.” Elijah added.   “Whatever” both siblings responded in unison. Olive rolled her eyes at her brother and walked to the lush white, black and grey kitchen.   “She’s going to mess things up for us,” Anthony voiced as he took a seat on the couch next to his best friend.   “She’s certainly got her way of doing things, but she knows what’s at stake here.” Elijah tried to reason, after all this was his mate. If she was supposed to be his other half then he trusted that she knew what she was doing. Obviously, prioritizing finesse over task completion.    “If we don’t get this money tomorrow, the schedule will be pushed back and I can’t take another day knowing that they’re in that place.” Everything was hinging on the money.   “I know. I know, but trust that Olive also knows that an-“ Elijah was cut off before he could get his sentence out.   “I do, I’m not stupid.” She proclaimed bitterly, standing behind Elijah and Anthony with a bowl of popcorn in her hands. “Mom, Dad, Victor and Sofia don’t deserve to be in there but they are. And the only way-“   “The only way we can help them is if we get the money.” Anthony interrupted.   “And we will” Olive growled back, exposing her sharp talons.   “Yes, you will.” Anthony corrected, “you created this mess, you are going to clean it.” His tone laced with finality. Whenever Anthony used that tone there was absolutely no room for arguments. He would be a great Alpha, a pain in the ass of an Alpha but a great Alpha nonetheless. “I need a f*****g drink,” and with that said, he pushed off the couch and wondered off further into their home.