Page 166 of Remy

“You didn’t need to. I can see it. I see it in her, too.”

I clamp my mouth shut and turn my stare to the pool.

My interest in her is one thing. The reciprocation is another.

Ollie doesn’t understand who I am. What I am.

Despite trying to lay it out in brutal technicolor multiple times, she still looks at me through rose-tinted glasses.

“Are you waiting for me to kick the bucket before you make a move, son?”

“What?” I scowl at him. “No.”

“Then what’s the hold-up?”

I scrub a hand over the back of my neck. “You want me to be with your daughter, old-timer?”

He contemplates me with fatherly interest. “I didn’t say that.”

Exactly.

We don’t need to take a poll to determine my worth when it comes to Ollie.

Money, power, and notoriety can’t buy morality, integrity, and altruism.

“Olivia is a grown woman. She makes informed choices. If she thought you were the man for her, I could understand her decision.” He pushes to his feet, the movement labored with a pained cringe. “I’ve always told you you’re a good man, Remy.”

He has, but this time there’s skepticism in his tone.

“But?” I mutter.

“But if once I’m gone she decides you’re the guy for her, then you’d better live up to my expectations.” His fatherly gaze turns stern as he claps a hand on my shoulder. “Otherwise me and my wife are going to be busy haunting you in the afterlife.”

30

OLIVIA

I step out of my private bathroom in my underwear after a luxurious shower that offered enough complimentary luxury products to have me smelling like a florist.

It’s too bad that the waterfall showerhead wasn’t enough to curb my annoyance with Remy.

He knew I’d need black-tie attire and didn’t tell me.

It also doesn’t help that I still harbor shell shock from him hauling me against him to growl a delicious threat in my ear. And the way he dared to act jealous toward the chef who happened to admire what Remy classifies as a mistake?

It’s plain dumb… in the most tinglingly intoxicating way.

I walk hunched over, towel-drying my hair, before flipping back upright once I reach the massive king-sized bed.

A garment bag is laid across the coverings with a folded piece of paper sitting on top. A garment bag and folded piece of paper that weren’t there before I got in the shower, along with a Jimmy Choo shoebox near the pillows.

Someone was in my room.

I glance toward the door, but it’s closed. In the exact same state I left it.

I rest my towel over my shoulders and grab the piece of paper.

I told you you’d find something to wear.

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