Greed (Seven Vices Series Book 1) Read online

  “So stupid,” I muttered under my breath, opening my desk drawer and dropping the envelope inside, unopened. I stared at the rose for a long moment, trying to figure out what to do with it. I couldn’t just throw it away, I finally decided. Whatever my feelings for the man, the rose hadn’t done anything to offend me.

  And I kind of liked getting to be the woman with flowers in her office for a change.

  I tried to go back to work, but I found that I kept reading the same report on one of our projects, the same two lines—over and over and over again. Even once I noticed that, I couldn’t seem to make sense of the sentences that I was reading. They were as foreign as if they’d been written in a different language.

  I looked up as Jeri entered without knocking. “Nice rose,” she said, smirking. “You know, I read in The Latest once that Oliver sends those to every girl that he hooks up with.”

  “We didn’t ‘hook up,’” I said, my ears flaming.

  “Sure,” Jeri said, giving me a knowing look.

  “Jeri, was there something you wanted or did you just come in here to . . .” I trailed off, unable to think of a good word for what she was doing except ‘be a bitch.’ I wasn’t about to say that to one of my employees, though.

  Jeri shrugged. “I just was going to offer to help you out with shopping, if you and Oliver are going to be a thing,” she said. “I know all the latest fashion trends, and you . . . Well, let’s just say that your style could get you put in the tabloids, but not for the reasons you might want.”

  “Jeri, get out of my office,” I said, fighting the urge to actually throw something at the woman. I didn’t understand what her problem was. Well, I could tell that she was jealous, but she was with Jackson. Besides, she’d had her chance with Oliver, back at the party. Apparently he was more interested in me.

  Or more interested in humiliating me, I thought worryingly.

  I glanced back towards the rose and thought again about the envelope in my desk. When Jeri shut the door behind her, I crossed the office to lock it and then went back to my desk. Whatever was in that envelope, it wasn’t appropriate for work, but I wasn’t going to be able to be productive for the rest of the day until I read whatever it was.

  I gave a guilty glance towards the door and then pulled out the envelope.

  There was just one line on the card inside: The suspense is killing me—are you going to ask me out or not?

  There was no question of who it was from, and I felt a little tingle go through my body. Lust, anticipation, nervousness—I had no way of knowing what it was. I bit my lower lip, remembering the date that I’d been thinking of earlier. No. If anything, this day proved unequivocally that I couldn’t get tangled up with Oliver. It was too distracting, and it was affecting my work.

  Again, I had that stupid thought about a guy who could pull me away from work for a while. I thought of all the times people—my mother, my friends, my colleagues—had told me that I was too serious, that I needed to lighten up and have a little fun. Besides, the first date with Oliver hadn’t exactly been unpleasant. I could make the second one even more fun, I was sure.

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then I called Oliver’s number for the second time.

  Chapter Seven

  Watching Oliver slip into the passenger’s seat of my car was strange for two reasons: it was Oliver in my car, and it was Oliver in jeans in my car. He had his designer sunglasses on, button-up shirt rolled up to his elbows and his hair looked like he’d just . . . had sex. I raised an eyebrow at him. “You really took it to heart when I told you to dress casually, didn’t you?”

  Oliver looked uncomfortable as he glanced down at himself. “Is this . . . too casual?” he asked as he rested his arm out the window. “I’ve never gone on a casual date before. I wasn’t really sure what to wear.”

  Nervous, uncertain Oliver—definitely not something I ever expected to see. I smiled reassuringly over at him. “You look great,” I said. “I’m just surprised you even own a pair of jeans. Even if they’re probably designer jeans.”

  “You know,” Oliver said, leaning in conspiratorially, “sometimes I just relax around the house on weekends, like a normal dude.”

  I laughed. “I can’t picture it,” I said honestly.

  “I can’t picture you relaxing around the house either,” Oliver said, raising an eyebrow at me. “You’re always out saving the planet or something, aren’t you?”

  “To be honest, I can’t remember the last weekend I just laid around,” I confessed.

  “Hmm,” Oliver said, a wicked grin on his face. “I could certainly keep you in bed all weekend if you like.”

  I blushed crimson. “Don’t say things like that,” I snapped, even though the idea of it sent a thrill through me. I definitely didn’t need to think of that while I was driving, though.

  Being spread out on the sheets beneath him, as he kissed his way down my body . . .

  Trembling as he caressed the soft, smooth skin of my breasts . . .

  Shaking as he plunged his tongue inside of me, tasting me and teasing me to ecstasy . . .

  “What are you imagining?” Oliver asked curiously, turning sideways in his seat so that he could face me.

  “Nothing,” I muttered, barely able to glance at him out the corner of my eye.

  “Okay,” Oliver said easily, but I could tell from his smirk that he had some idea. “So where are we going anyway?”

  “You’ll see,” I told him, my tone shading towards petulance.

  When we pulled up at Gateway National Recreation Area, Oliver raised an eyebrow at me. “The beach?” he asked. “I would have brought a swimsuit if you’d told me.”

  “I brought one for you,” I mumbled, gesturing towards the backseat. “Jeri knew your size from some magazine.” It had been embarrassing asking her, but I’d wanted to take Oliver to a place that was special to me, while keeping the plan for the day a surprise.

  Oliver stared at me with a furrowed brow. “If you wanted to go to the beach with me, you could have told me,” he said. “We could have flown to a nice beach in my jet. Gone up to Cape Cod or somewhere, at least.”

  I ducked my head, feeling foolish. “Well, I can turn around and drive us back into the city if you want,” I said, already putting the key back into the ignition.

  Oliver caught my wrist before I could turn the key. “But why here?” he asked, as though he were trying to puzzle it out. He could clearly read something in my expression.

  I sighed and looked out the front window, absently drumming the fingers of the hand that he wasn’t holding against the edge of the steering wheel. “My parents and I came here once, on a family vacation. I must have been about nine, and we came to the East Coast. It was such a whirlwind trip, I remember being constantly tired and sleeping in the car whenever I could.” I smiled a little. “Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Washington—and then back to New York to fly back to California. My parents never bickered, but I remember my mom having some choice words with my father because she’d wanted to go to the beach at least once during the trip but he’d dragged us from museum to historical site to national park, without pause.”

  I looked around the mostly empty parking lot and shrugged, smiling a little as I remembered that. “So my dad brought us here on our last morning, as a surprise to my mom. He carried her right down to the water and threw her in, clothes and all, and she just sat there in the waves and laughed and laughed and laughed.” I paused. “And then we missed our flight and my father said that it was all my mother’s fault for wanting to go to the beach. It was an inside joke between them from then on.”

  Oliver’s fingers slid from my wrist to my hand, squeezing lightly. “That’s sweet,” he said quietly, already unbuckling his seatbelt.

  He waited outside the car as I grabbed the picnic basket and the bag containing my swimsuit and his. I still felt foolish, wondering what I’d been thinking to bring him here.

  I trailed after him toward
the beach, forcing a smile on my face as he gave me a questioning look. Suddenly, I knew this was a mistake—but I couldn’t exactly back out now.

  “This is really nice, actually,” Oliver said as he sat down on the sand. He stretched out, leaning back against his arms. For a moment, I couldn’t draw my eyes away from his muscular forearms and the glimpse of tanned skin that was revealed when his shirt rode up a little.

  When I finally met his eyes, he grinned knowingly, and I blushed—apparently, that was my perpetual state around him.

  “I can’t remember the last time I went somewhere on a date without being followed by paparazzi,” he continued.

  “They didn’t follow us on our first date,” I said. Actually, the tabloids had been curiously quiet about us. Jeri had been somewhat smug about that fact.

  “I picked that restaurant specifically because their security presence is phenomenal,” Oliver said, shrugging. “So I guess it’s true that there are certain places where I can get away from the press, but I have to be careful usually. Even if I’m not followed somewhere, people tend to recognize me when I’m out places.”

  “Must come with the territory of being America’s hottest young billionaire bachelor,” I said teasingly.

  “Hot, huh?” Oliver grinned with a raised brow. I bit my lip, embarrassed by my admission. I needed to get a grip.

  Oliver cleared his throat and peered curiously at the picnic basket. “What are we having?”

  I started laying out a picnic. “It’s . . . simple,” I said. “Comfort food, like last time, but . . .” Again, I was starting to second-guess my plan.

  “Looks great,” Oliver said enthusiastically, and I had to smile at the way he put me at ease.

  But then I frowned. “Do you do this with every girl?” I asked.

  “Do what?” Oliver asked, looking surprised.

  “Act like you’re . . . comfortable everywhere.” It was such a stupid thing to say. I was sure the “comfortable” vibes came more from the fact that he was comfortable anywhere. He was sexy and confident and probably rarely heard the word “no.”

  Sure enough, Oliver laughed. “I’m sorry, do you want me to act more uncomfortable? I thought this was supposed to be a relaxing, casual date.”

  “It is,” I said, my frustration coming through in my tone. “Just, are you only acting this way so that you can get into my pants?”

  Oliver looked surprised, and I clapped a hand over my mouth, mortified that I’d actually said those words out loud. “Sophia,” he said, reaching out a hand towards me. It hung in the air for a minute, and then he shook his head, looking confused, his hand falling back onto the sand. He sat up and turned towards me. “You really don’t believe me when I say I’m not just here because I want to fuck you.” He sounded incredulous.

  I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Oliver. Don’t treat me like I’m some naïve girl,” I told him. “Obviously I’m still here either way, so you must be doing something right. But don’t pretend . . .”

  “Sophia, I’m not pretending,” Oliver said seriously, and for a moment, it felt as though the world narrowed down to just the two of us. He had an earnest look in his eyes, like I was the only thing that mattered.

  And the truth was, I wanted to believe that. It was nice to think that somehow Oliver could have any girl in the city . . . and yet for some reason he wanted something more than just sex with me. But I just couldn’t believe it.

  I shook my head. “Look, I’m not the type of girl to read the tabloids, but Jeri’s made it very clear to me that this is just the kind of thing that you do with half the girls in the city,” I said, shrugging as though it didn’t matter one way or the other to me.

  “What is the kind of thing that I do with half the girls in the city?” Oliver asked, actually looking perplexed.

  “The rose thing, the second date of her choosing, all of it. The only thing missing is the fact that I haven’t opened my legs for you yet. But Jeri says that your third date move involves something to get the adrenaline pumping, so I’m sure after that I’ll be all over you—right?”

  Oliver ran his hands back through his hair. “I rarely go on second dates,” he said, but surprisingly, he didn’t sound proud of that. I expected him to say something about getting everything that he needed out of the first one, but he surprised me. “There’s something about you that keeps me interested, Sophia. Very few girls manage that. And sure, maybe I have kind of a routine. That’s no secret. But it’s not . . . This isn’t just a plan to get you into my bed.”

  He paused, frowning. “I mean, sure, when I’m around you I can’t stop thinking about . . .” He trailed off, before clearing his throat and continuing on. “The crux of the matter is—I’m not going to try and convince you to sleep with me, sweetheart. I’ve never had to and I won’t start now. I’m fine, right here, keeping my distance if that’s what you want. If that’s ever what you don’t want, all you have to do is say it. Until then, I’m just enjoying your company.”

  I was taken aback by his honesty and his conviction. It was the first time I’d seen him really riled up about something and I felt guilty for being so judgmental. Even so, I couldn’t help but feel like he wouldn’t stick around just for my friendship.

  “But pretty soon, you’ll get bored with me—I’m sure—and then I’ll never hear from you again,” I said. I forced a laugh. “Sorry, I shouldn’t make it sound like dating is a huge commitment to begin with. Except that it kind of is for me.” I shook my head. “Just, I’m so busy with work that I don’t have time for distractions. I either want all or nothing. I don’t want to waste time.”

  “And this is wasting time?” Oliver asked. “Unless it ends up with marriage and kids and the whole bit?”

  “I’m not saying that,” I said, starting to feel frustrated myself. I jabbed a fork into one of the pasta salads and handed it over. “Just forget I said anything, okay?”

  Oliver looked like he wanted to say something else, but he just sighed. “All right,” he said.

  For a long time, we just sat there eating and staring out at the waves.

  Oliver turned towards me, scooting a little closer and brushing a lock of hair back behind my ear. “You’re not mistaken about the fact that I want to be close to you,” he said. “You’re beautiful, Sophia, and intelligent, and driven—all the things I would look for in a relationship. The truth is, I’m not exactly sure I’m looking for a relationship.”

  I stared at him, surprised by his candid words. This wasn’t the Oliver Lewin of the tabloids. I wanted to say something, to agree to continue this thing—more fancy dates organized by him, more casual dates organized by me. Would that be so bad?

  Even now, his close proximity was making my body react in a way that I had never felt before. I wanted nothing more than for him to close the gap between us.

  Logically, I knew I shouldn’t be getting involved with him. It was a distraction from my work that I didn’t need. I still knew, deep down, that he wasn’t the right kind of guy for me. I had always imagined ending up with someone who worked in the same business as I did. Someone who wasn’t interested in philanthropy as nothing more than a way to raise his public profile.

  But before I could even think about what to say back, Oliver moved his hand onto my cheek and rubbed his thumb across my bottom lip. For a moment I looked him in the eye, before his gaze fell to my mouth. He leaned in closer and for a second I thought he was going to kiss me . . .

  Then his phone rang. He pulled it out in a flash, leaping to his feet and already walking away from me across the sand as he brought it to his ear.

  I blinked after him for a moment, wondering if that had really happened. Of course it had—I brushed my fingertips across my lips where his thumb had been. I wondered who it was who was calling Oliver. It was rude for him to interrupt an almost-kiss by answering a call, wasn’t it? Apparently, he didn’t see things the same way.

  I swallowed hard, staring down at my hands. It was just a normal s
econd-date move to him. If someone was calling him, it had to be more important than whatever it was that we were doing.

  I tried to remind myself that the interruption was a good thing. I couldn’t risk developing feelings for Oliver, not when I knew where that path was going to end. I didn’t want this to go any further.

  It wasn’t just about Oliver and his intentions; it wasn’t as though I was really ready to commit to anything more either. I had my work to think of. I had that trip to Nepal coming up soon enough. I was sure that even if he didn’t find some other distraction of his own before then, he definitely would when I was out of the country for a couple weeks.

  Right then, all I could feel for him was frustration. He must be talking to a girl; that was the only conclusion I could draw. Probably planning to go over to her place that night.

  Oliver came back and crouched down. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I really have to go,” he said, sounding apologetic.

  I scowled at him. Sure, I had made things awkward with the way that I’d pushed him, but seriously? I shook my head and started packing everything up, coolly saying nothing.

  “Sophia,” Oliver said, catching my arm as I stalked back towards the car. He turned me towards him, and I blinked up at him, aware that we were close—too close. Oliver looked like he didn’t know whether to say whatever it was he’d been about to say or . . .

  I stared at him for a moment and then shook my head. “I can’t do this,” I said, folding my arms over my chest.

  Oliver looked stricken. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then his phone buzzed with a message, and he glanced down at it. “Sophia, I’m sorry, I don’t have time to explain right now. My driver is on his way, but I’ll see you soon to explain—Okay?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I snapped, getting into my car. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” I slammed the door shut before he could respond, quickly putting the car in drive and pulling out of the parking lot, leaving him standing there looking bewildered.