Greed (Seven Vices Series Book 1) Read online

  There was a long pause. “Seriously?” Javier asked, and I could already hear the hope in his voice. “Sophia, of course that offer is still valid. Do you really want to come with me?”

  “I do,” I said firmly. “I don’t want to get into the reasons for it, but I think this could be a good for me.”

  “I’ll let my contact know and have them give you a call to brief you,” Javier said. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’ve changed your mind.”

  We chatted for a little while, and then I hung up the phone. I didn’t feel half as elated as Javier did. In fact, I felt sort of hollow. And furious at Oliver. It seemed like he hadn’t learned anything from me. Like he hadn’t cared about me at all. He’d just . . . discarded me.

  The idea of being away from everything and everyone certainly had its appeal.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A couple days later, as I headed into the office to finish up some last-minute things, I reflected on what a brash decision this had been. “Sure, I’ll just hand over my company to someone else plus prepare for a move to Africa, all in the span of a week,” I muttered under my breath as I went up the elevator. “What a great idea.”

  When I got to the office, Jeri wasn’t at her desk, and I rolled my eyes. Maybe the pressure was already getting to her—not that I was hiring her into my position at the head of the company. I’d decided to temporarily hire someone from outside the company to take it over. Linda had worked with a few different companies with similar ethos in the past, and I trusted her to do what she needed to do to make sure Le Monde continued to run similar to how I would have run it.

  The position was temporary—only six months—after which point I would either leave the company entirely or come back to New York with my tail between my legs.

  I walked into my office and was surprised, when I flicked on the lights, to see Jeri in there. She shot to her feet immediately. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you’d be in today,” she said, dabbing at her eyes, which were red-rimmed and puffy.

  “Jeri, what’s wrong?” I asked in surprise. She and I might not get along, but that didn’t mean I wanted to see her crying in the dark of my office, where she thought no one would disturb her.

  Jeri shook her head. “It’s Jackson,” she said. “He found out that I’ve been cheating on him and he broke up with me.”

  I paused, frowning and trying to think of what to say to that. “Maybe that’s for the best,” I finally said.

  “Sophia, Jackson and I have been together for five years now,” Jeri said, her voice bordering on a wail.

  “And maybe that’s too long,” I said coldly. “If you can’t stay faithful to Jackson, you need to let him go. Let him find someone who thinks he’s the whole world.”

  “What do you know about it anyway?” Jeri asked. “You’ve never even been in a relationship that lasted a year.”

  She was right, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. Instead, I just shrugged. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone else. You’re attractive and you know how to have fun.”

  Jeri gave me a watery smile. “You’re right,” she said. She paused. “I’m sorry that I messed things up with you and Oliver.

  “You didn’t mess anything up between us,” I said. “Like you said, whatever we had was clearly over. If he and I had really been in a relationship, he wouldn’t have decided to sleep with my assistant.”

  “He didn’t,” Jeri said, shaking her head. “I kind of . . . blew things out of proportion.” She gnawed at her lower lip. “While you were gone to Argentina, I figured that was the perfect time for me to make my move. So I called up Oliver and told him that I needed him to fill out some paperwork regarding his donations being used towards Argentina. We went for coffee a couple times. And I tried to kiss him.” She paused. “He didn’t kiss me back.”

  I stared at her for a long moment. I wanted to get mad at her. I remembered how Oliver had sounded on the phone the day that I’d confronted him about it. He’d really been trying to apologize and to explain—and I hadn’t listened.

  No wonder our relationship was doomed. It wasn’t that he was so different from me. It was that I never listened to him. I was the one who never trusted him.

  I felt a sinking feeling in my gut, but it wasn’t as though there was anything I could do about it now. I had made a commitment to Javier, and I was going to fly down to Africa in just a couple days. There was nothing more to talk about.

  Besides, I thought, glancing toward the trashcan, even though of course that magazine was long gone by now, Oliver has definitely moved on by now.

  I looked back at Jeri and shrugged. “Oliver and I were never right for one another,” I told her. “You didn’t mess up anything between us; there was never an us to begin with.”

  Jeri gave me a look like she didn’t believe me, but she wordlessly left the office.

  I leaned back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling. I was surprised to learn that Oliver had been telling me the truth—and I felt guilty that I hadn’t bothered to listen to him.

  I remembered what he had said about me caring more about people that I had never even met, and I suddenly wondered if maybe I needed to turn my focus a little closer to home. Like Oliver did, when he took in his own family.

  But I would be doing that by going down to Africa—Javier would be right there with me, our relationship impossible to avoid. And I wouldn’t have to deal with all the hassles of owning a charity organization either. I would be doing the kind of work that I could leave behind at the end of the day.

  Despite all my reservations, I just wasn’t ready to leave things in such a bad place with Oliver, after all, I might never see him again. I pulled out my phone. I didn’t have Oliver’s number saved anymore, but as I’d cleared out my desk the previous day, I’d found the first of the notes that he’d sent to me, the one where he asked for me to call him back. For some reason, even though I knew that things were really over between us, I hadn’t been able to throw it away.

  Now, I pulled out the envelope and opened it up, tracing my fingers over the digits before quickly punching them into my phone. “Oliver, it’s me,” I said when he answered. “Do you think you can meet me at the park?”

  A few hours later, I found Oliver at our arranged meeting point, sitting on a bench overlooking the lake. He smiled at me as I sat down next to him. “Hello, Sophia,” he said formally. “I didn’t think I was going to get to see you again before you left.”

  “Left?” I asked in surprise.

  “There was an article about you in the Times. Something about you handing over Le Monde to Linda DeVray for the next six months while you go work on aid projects in Africa.”

  “Oh,” I said faintly. “I didn’t see that.”

  “I wanted to call and congratulate you, but I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me,” Oliver said. “The last time we spoke, you were so insistent that I not interfere with your life anymore, and the couple times I came by the office to see you, Jeri told me that you weren’t there. I just had to assume that you were avoiding me.”

  I frowned, wondering when he had come by the office. It could have been while I was in Hawaii—or it could have been more meddling on Jeri’s part. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter now.

  “I brought you something,” Oliver said, reaching next to him and grabbing a gift-wrapped package off the bench.

  I blinked down at it and slowly unwrapped it. Inside was a small catalogue which, when I flipped it open, was full of old postcards. I blinked over at him.

  Oliver looked nervous. “I remember when we were at the antiques store, you said that part of what you really liked about antiques was that they showed the history of the people who had owned them, that we came from somewhere. And I knew that you also like getting to know the people you’re helping, even if they’re strangers from all over the world. So I rounded up a bunch of interesting postcards from all over the world, all ones that tell about the places in the pictures.”<
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  I stared at him and then looked down at the book, moved by the idea. “That’s really a great idea,” I whispered.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d like it or if it would be too cheesy,” Oliver said, still sounding nervous.

  “It’s perfect,” I told him. I swallowed hard. My feelings for him came surging back. My first impression of him had been that he was some player who didn’t care for anyone other than himself. But I was starting to wonder if that was really the case. Time and time again, he proved that there was something more to him.

  Except for when he was running out on our dates, giving me no explanation for it. And the fact the he didn’t want any semblance of a real relationship with a woman.

  “So what prompted you to call me, anyway?” Oliver asked curiously.

  I sighed. “I owe you an apology,” I admitted. “I talked to Jeri. She told me everything, about how she was the one coming on to you. About how the two of you had never slept together. I’m sorry I leapt to conclusions and didn’t let you tell your side of the story.”

  Oliver shook his head. “It’s fine,” he said. “Like you said, we were probably never right for one another anyway.” He paused. “But why don’t you let me take you out to dinner one last time? As a farewell.”

  I thought of how I was about to embark on my trip to Africa. I shouldn’t go out to dinner with an old flame—but then again, Oliver hardly counted as an old flame. Sure we’d had sex; sure it hadn’t been so easy to disentangle my feelings from him. But I had never been his girlfriend, and it wasn’t like I was pining for him, or wishing that things could have been different between the two of us.

  “Where do you suggest?” I asked, getting to my feet.

  Oliver glanced at his watch, and for a moment I thought he was going to reconsider, to say that he had something else that he needed to do instead. But then he said, “It’s still early—I could probably get us a table at Giulia’s, if you’re up for Italian.”

  I snorted. “You always act so obnoxiously rich,” I said, shaking my head. “Even if I was up for Italian, I’m definitely not dressed to go to one of the fanciest restaurants in the city.”

  Oliver looked down at the plain suit that he was wearing and grimaced. “You’re right, I’m probably not either.”

  “Oliver, I’m pretty sure you could walk naked into a place like Giulia’s and they’d still be thrilled to have you.” I paused. “Actually, I’m pretty sure that would be your ticket into any venue in the city: just walk in there naked.”

  Oliver grinned over at me and steered me toward his sports car. “We’ll skip Giulia’s for tonight, though—but maybe some other time. For your return dinner.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know when I’ll be coming back.”

  Oliver raised an eyebrow at me. “You don’t?” he said in surprise. “The article I read seemed to think you would only be gone for six months. They insinuated that you probably had something you needed to get out of your system.”

  I shook my head, even though I was curious what he might think about that, getting something out of my system. Did he think I was going to Africa to get him out of my system? Maybe I should tell him about Javier . . . No, whatever my relationship was with Javier, it was none of Oliver’s business.

  “It’s possible that I might come back after six months, depending on how I’m feeling,” I admitted. “But it’s not set in stone. Instead, I might formally hand Le Monde over to Linda at that time and wash my hands of the whole thing.” I paused. “I know I’m helping a lot more people with my organization than I could help with just my two hands. But if the organization continues without me, if I’ve created something that will continue to benefit those same people even in my absence, then why not take a step away from it and go back to my roots?”

  “Wow,” Oliver said. “So I guess this could really be a long goodbye for us, huh?”

  I shrugged awkwardly, not sure what to say to that.

  We pulled up in front of a small diner, and I raised an eyebrow over at Oliver. “What’s this?” I asked him. “Five-star restaurant hiding in plain sight?”

  Oliver laughed. “I don’t think this place is Michelin-rated,” he said. “But you said you wanted something more casual than Giulia’s, and this is one of the most casual places I know.”

  I got out of the car, making my way to the doors. “I can’t imagine you coming to a place like this,” I said, shaking my head. “How do you even know about a place like this?”

  Oliver shrugged and grinned at me. “I wasn’t always a billionaire,” he reminded me.

  Chapter Twenty

  I studied the menu, smiling a little at all the classic diner favorites. “Do you even know what half of this stuff is?” I teased Oliver. “A Monte Cristo—you’ve probably never seen one of those in your life. Or chili-cheese fries.”

  Oliver laughed and was about to say something when the waitress—Betty, according to her name tag—came over.

  “Oliver!” she said. “It’s been a while!”

  Oliver got up out of his seat and gave the woman a hug. Betty looked old enough to be his mother, if not his grandmother. “How have you been? How are Sam and the dogs doing?”

  “Oh, Sam’s great,” Betty said happily. “Can you believe he’ll be off to college in the fall? It’s his last summer at home . . . And the dogs, well, they’re still just as lively as ever. Too lively for the apartment I have here in the city, but oh well. I do what I can to get some good walks in with them, you know how it is.” She raised an eyebrow at me. “And who’s this?”

  “This is Sophia,” Oliver said, smiling over at me. “She’s a good friend of mine. She works in humanitarian aid—she was recently down in Argentina, helping to clear roads and build homes after all the flooding.”

  “Well isn’t that something,” Betty said. “You must have a very big heart.” She pulled out a notebook. “Now, what can I get for you tonight, Oli?”

  As she walked away, I stared at Oliver as though he’d grown a second head. “Oli? You hate it when people call you Oli. You come here a lot,” I surmised.

  He chuckled. “You’re right, I don’t love that nickname. It makes me feel like I’m twelve. But I’ve known Betty a long time,” he said with a sheepish smile on his lips.

  “Anyway. I’ve discovered that I don’t always hate being called Oli.” His mouth curved into a grin and his cheeks turned red, like he was remembering something embarrassing. He cleared his throat before lowering his voice. “I did rather enjoy hearing it come out of your lips when we were in that cellar of yours. Although . . . it was more of a moan wasn’t it . . .”

  “Oliver!” I cried, wanting to punch him in the arm. I felt my face turn completely red. I was so embarrassed about him pointing out what I’d done and said in the heat of the moment, but there was a part of me that was also reveling in the memory of what had transpired between us. How we both totally lost control.

  I couldn’t lose control of this night, though. I tried to change the topic. “Anyway . . . you never answered my question about why you like this place,” I said curiously.

  Oliver looked momentarily uncomfortable. “Yeah, well, maybe it secretly is Michelin-rated—or it will be one day. I’m ahead of the crowds.” I frowned at him, and he relented. “It’s one of my sister’s favorite places. We used to come here a lot before . . .” He trailed off, grimacing.

  “Before you got too busy with work and started having to cut all your dates short?” I suggested, more teasing than bitter. Whatever Oliver and I had had, whatever feelings I’d had for him, that was all over now. I knew where we stood.

  Oliver rolled his eyes. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” he asked.

  “Nope,” I said cheerfully.

  Oliver shook his head. “The thing with Jeri,” he said suddenly. “I know I should have told you about it, rather than letting you hear it from her first. Were you really . . . jealous?”

  “Of course not,” I scoff
ed.

  Oliver raised an eyebrow at me. “Really?” he asked. “But you were willing to take her word without even listening to my side of the story.”

  I ducked my head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me blush. “Why do you care anyway?” I asked, unable to keep from sounding bitter. “I saw you in some magazine, with some new girl. Your new sweetheart, if the headline was anything to go by.”

  Oliver looked surprised. “You didn’t strike me as the type of woman to read magazines like that,” he said, sounding amused.

  “I don’t,” I muttered. “Someone—Jeri, probably—left it on my desk for me to find. And Jeri might have embellished a little on what happened between the two of you, but I don’t think she was so desperate to mess things up between us that she would create a fake tabloid spread about you at the opening of the Seville Theater. If she did, it would probably be her on your arm.”

  “Sure sounds like jealousy to me,” Oliver said, grinning over at me.

  I rolled my eyes. “Let’s just drop it, okay?”

  “Sure thing,” Oliver said, but his eyes were twinkling.

  We ate our meals and then walked silently back to the car. I couldn’t help but think about how this might be my last chance to be with him in the way that I had wanted for so long. No matter how much I had tried to deny it, I still wanted him—at least physically. I could only imagine what it would be like to have him spread me out on the sheets, his full attention on me and my full attention on him. What we’d done before—in the cellar and then again in his car—had been so rushed and hurried. It had been good, but I imagined that given the time to really explore one another’s bodies, it could be . . . Well, I was damp in my panties just imagining it.

  Besides, where would be the harm? Javier and I hadn’t made any commitments to each other yet; we were just going down to Africa together to see where things would take us.

  But then again, Oliver had that other woman, the one in the pictures. His new girl. I swallowed hard, realizing that I had missed my chance. Even if I weren’t going to Africa, whatever Oliver and I could have had was truly over. I couldn’t help feeling a little regret over that.