Page 18 of Little Did You Know

“Discouraged?" My brows furrowed.

"You know, from the opposite sex," she stated as if I had any idea what she was talking about. "I'm saying this in the nicest way possible because I like Olivia, but the girl is socially challenged."

I remained silent. I couldn't comment; I hadn't seen Olivia in nine years. I didn't know her anymore. The last time I saw her, I never thought she would have turned into the beauty she’d become or that I'd be as attracted to her as I was.

"It's almost like she's never been in public or around people before."

That couldn't be true. Olivia was 21 and had graduated her first four years of college. Certainly, she'd been around people. I still didn't respond though because I didn’t know.

"Well, I'll let you get back to work."

"Thanks, Hannah." I sighed as the door shut behind her.

The sun had long since set behind the office towers when I finally signed the last document. I'd been using work as a shield, but at 7:05 PM, I'd run out of excuses to stay.

Running my hands over my face, I gathered my coat and briefcase. "Keep it together," I muttered, jabbing the elevator button with more force than necessary. The ride down gave me time to establish ground rules: Look, don't touch. Be polite, avoid being alone with her.

In the back of the car, I rehearsed a mantra. "You can fantasize all you want, Nick, but you can't touch her." My knuckles whitened against the leather seat. Desire was one thing; acting on it was another. She was living under my roof. The complications would be endless, and I didn’t want to hurt her.

By the time Jackson, my driver, pulled into the driveway, I'd armored myself with resolve. Three deep breaths. I could handle this. Then I walked in and saw her curled on the couch in shorts that barely qualified as clothing, and my carefully constructed defenses crumbled like wet paper.

"Hey." she looked up from the book in her hands. "I was starting to wonder if you'd be coming home tonight."

I stood frozen, suddenly wishing I'd slept at the office. The close quarters of the house felt suffocating, charged with something I couldn't—shouldn't—name.

"I had some late business." The solution hit me like a lifeline. Other people. Noise. Distractions. "Go get changed. We're going out tonight. I want to introduce you to my friends." In public, surrounded by others, I could keep my distance. Even the risk of paparazzi seemed preferable to another night alone with her in this house.

"Uh." Her posture stiffened, shoulders drawing in slightly. "What should I wear?"

"Dress casually, and don't worry, they'll love you. It will be fun!" The words came out too bright, too forced.

When she disappeared upstairs, I exhaled a breath of relief.

It only took a few minutes for me to change into a pair of faded denim jeans and a black polo. However, it took her slightly longer.

The floorboard creaked above me. I looked up, and the air vanished from my lungs.

She descended the stairs one careful step at a time, one hand trailing the banister. Faded jeans hugged curves I'd been trying to ignore. A thin strip of skin peeked between the hem of her tank top and her waistband each time she took a step. Her dark hair fell in waves past her shoulders, catching the light from the chandelier.

My mouth went dry. Blood rushed south so fast I had to shift my stance to accommodate the sudden tightness in my jeans. This was not happening. Could not happen. I reached for my keys, dropping them once before managing to grip them with suddenly clumsy fingers.

We needed to leave before I lost not just my control but my sanity.

The neon sign for "The Shit Hole" flickered against the night sky, casting intermittent red shadows across Olivia's face as we pulled up. The place lived up to its name—cracked concrete, peeling paint, and the kind of authentic grime that kept the paparazzi at a comfortable distance.

Inside, cigarette smoke hung in layers beneath the low ceiling, and the jukebox waged its eternal battle against conversation. Through the haze, I caught Justin's wave from our usual corner. He'd claimed one of the wobbly high-tops, surrounded by the usual suspects: Liam slouched over his Guinness, Andrew and Lisa sharing their typical conspiratorial whispers, and Sam tapping her rings against an empty glass in time with the music.

"Well, bloody hell." Liam's beer froze halfway to his lips, Irish accent thickening with surprise. "Hell must've frozen over."

I clapped his shoulder, squeezing harder than necessary. "Everybody, meet Olivia Ryan."

My hand found the small of her back as she navigated around the crowded table. The protective gesture wasn't lost on anyone.

"We grew up together," I added.

Silence stretched thick. Chairs scraped. Glasses clinked. Around the table, shocked expressions melted into poorly concealed curiosity.

Samantha broke first. "Nice to meet you, darlin'." Her Georgia drawl wrapped around the endearment. She gave Lisa the universal let's-go nod and threw an arm around Olivia's shoulders. "We need to get you a proper drink."

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