Page 10 of Fixing Olivia (Fairford Affairs)

“Dinner first,” Aiden interrupted, sliding off the bed and pulling her up after him. “No, leave your shoes. We’re only going downstairs. Then we’ll have all night for whatever comes into my depraved little mind.”

She giggled again—not a nervous, high-pitched sound, but low and throaty. He could lose himself in a laugh like that.

As he guided her to the door, Olivia took in the rich, dark wood and leather of the furniture, the thick rugs, the deep gray walls, the stone fireplace. “It’s so beautiful,” she said, genuine awe in her voice. “I can’t believe I’m really here. I keep expecting to wake up in my apartment and realize it’s all been a dream.”

“Hopefully I’ll be able to convince you I’m real by the end of the week,” he said, resisting the urge to grin like an idiot as he opened the door for her. What was it about this woman? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so boyishly infatuated. Probably not since college, when he’d had his very first sub, years before he and the others had banded together to open the Manor. And hadn’t that been a fucking disaster.

If he was honest with himself, though, he already knew what it was. It was the raw honesty and pain that had filled her application. It had drawn him to her like a moth to a flame, exactly as Zach had known it would. The six-month span between her application and arrival had been torture.

Aiden had expected the dining room to be empty. It was almost eight o’clock, and by this time, everyone tended to be well into their planned activities for the evening. But Jonathan was seated at the head of the antique table, the tall, willowy blonde perched on his lap taking tiny bites from his fork. She looked familiar. Definitely a repeat guest, though he couldn’t remember a name.

Jonathan and his sub looked up when they entered the room. The former gave Olivia a once-over and a polite nod, while the latter’s gaze fixed on Aiden and never left. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

Interesting.

“Won’t you join us for dinner?” Jonathan said, sweeping a hand toward the high-backed chair to his right. The way they were sitting, he didn’t have a good view of his sub’s face, and didn’t seem to realize anything was amiss.

Olivia sure did, though. Aiden’s hand was on her lower back, and he’d felt her stiffen.

The blonde’s gaze stayed glued to him as they made their way to the table. It was practically burning his skin. Damnit, he wished he could remember who she was. He’d clearly done something to piss her off.

Aiden dropped into his chair, then hauled Olivia onto his lap when she started to pull out the seat next to his. She made a surprised little squeak and blushed furiously, hiding a smile. Pleased with her reaction, he wrapped one arm around her, letting his hand rest on her thigh.

“Olivia, this is Jonathan Hale,” Aiden said, nodding toward his sort-of boss. Each of the Doms in residence more or less did their own thing, but Fairford Manor had all been Jonathan’s idea, and he’d invested by far the most money into buying the property and renovating the house. He’d taken on the role as de facto leader from the start, and the rest of them had never questioned it.

“Very pleased to meet you, Sir,” Olivia said, giving him a shy smile.

Returning the smile, Jonathan said, “I hope you’re enjoying your stay at the Manor so far.”

She took in the damask wallpaper, ornate brass chandelier, and gleaming mahogany furniture with an expression of joy, exactly as she’d done in their suite. “It’s beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen somewhere more beautiful in my life.”

Aiden’s chest swelled with pride.

Jonathan gave her an approving look. “What a sweet little sub you have, Aiden,” he said, voice warm. His own sub visibly stiffened, throwing a jealous glare at Olivia. “And let me introduce—”

“Oh, you don’t need to introduce me,” the blonde interrupted. “Aiden and I already know each other, don’t we, Sir?”

He may not have recognized her face, but Christ almighty, he remembered that grating voice. It was Stacey Blackwood—the not-really-a-sub socialite he’d been so relieved to rid himself of. “It’s nice to see you again, Stacey,” he lied.

“Isn’t it? Though I must say, I’m surprised to see you,” she said, her smile as fake as her hair color. “I naturally thought you must have left.”

He arranged his features into a blandly polite expression. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Well, when I was assigned a different Dom, I naturally assumed you were no longer employed here.” Because Stacey Blackwood was never ever denied something she wanted.Naturally.

Aiden only resisted the urge to roll his eyes for Jonathan’s sake. She’d applied for another stay within a few months of her last one, specifically requesting Aiden as her host again. He’d begged one of the others to take her instead, not sure he could survive another week with the woman. Jonathan had drawn the short straw.

“I hope you’re not complaining,” Jonathan said, a hint of a warning in his voice.

“Ofcoursenot, Sir,” Stacey said, twisting around in his lap and blinking up at him with big doe eyes. “Forgive my rudeness. I couldn’t be happier to be chosen by the head Dom himself. It’s anhonorto serve you.”

Her simpering voice made Aiden want to gag. How had he put up with her bullshit act for a whole week? If he had to guess, there wasn’t a single truly submissive bone in her body.

Jonathan had clearly come to the same conclusion. He met Stacey’s gaze with a stony one of his own, then returned to their meal without a word. Aiden knew from experience Jonathan had a long-ass week ahead of him. He would’ve felt bad if he wasn’t so relieved it wasn’t him.

Before the silence could become too awkward, the door between the dining room and the kitchen swung open. The Manor’s private chef, Gabriel, bustled in with a dinner tray.

“Bonsoir monsieur, mademoiselle!” he said in the ridiculous fake French accent he liked to use around guests. (“It adds a touch of class to the place!” he insisted any time one of the partners had asked him to knock it off.) “Tonight, we have freshly made linguine pasta in a creamy white wine sauce, with Mediterraneanpalourdes—”

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