CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Olivia returned toher office and let out a long, audible sigh.
Being close to Fletcher was both pleasure and pain. She couldn’t imagine not seeing him every day, and yet she was wondering how on earth she could continue on like this.
She couldn’t tell him.
He knew, and he was going through his own struggle.
Plus, he could see her reaction. He knew every inch of her body after thoroughly ravishing her. It had been more than that, though, and she wondered if he had been aware. In between the incredible voracious sex, they had lain together talking and giggling like young lovers.
Yet she’d had to draw a line in the sand, eventually.
When he’d asked if they could spend more time together before he left, she had adamantly said no.
Fletcher didn’t hide his disappointment.
It would have been so easy to say yes. In some ways, the things in their life that were blocking them from being together were a gift.
Olivia knew Fletcher wasn’t a relationship guy. The Playboy of Manhattan wasn’t going to play house or stepdad to Sammy. Every second Sunday, when she dropped her daughter off, she felt a pang of envy.
She’d never have that.
Because Simon was a cruel and manipulative man.
He wouldn’t control her forever. But that didn’t mean she didn’t hate him for it.
He was so damn messed up.
So, the fact that she and Fletcher couldn’t date because of Dufort policy was beside the point.
He was a billionaire. And a major shareholder in the Dufort Dynasty.
Her employer. And a known playboy.
Once he was done with her, he would throw her away. She’d had enough heartache and disappointment caused by men in her life. She wasn’t sure she could survive Fletcher doing that to her. It was better if she said no to him right now.
She had to protect her heart.
She spent the rest of the day with her team, reviewing the press from Friday’s event. There were the usual questions about who the Dufort brothers were dating. Of course, Harper and Daniel were a top attraction because of their engagement, and the one photo they’d posed for was plastered everywhere.
Then she came across the next lot.
Which Dufort brother will fall next?
The article featured a photo of Dakota and Fletcher. His arm was around her, his head tipped into her neck, and it was intimate enough that the press was running a lot of press questioning if things were getting serious.
Was he fucking her still?
Obviously, Fletcher had spent the night with Olivia on Friday, but was Dakota the type of woman who was in it for the long haul, allowing him his office romances? Then she’d smile for the cameras when he figured out he needed to marry someone suitable.
She tucked the printed article into her folder and made her way down to his office for the sponsorship meeting.
“Here she is,” Fletcher said, pulling out a chair for her.
“My apologies for being late.” She wasn’t late at all, but as she was the last to arrive, it seemed like the right thing to say. Which made her cringe. She hated saying sorry when it was a lie. Or socially acceptable.