The red marks on her pale skin were impossible to miss.


    Oliver grabbed a tube of ointment from the dresser, handed it to her, and nodded toward her neck. Patricia managed a quick “thanks.”


    “How was the jewelry show?” he asked.


    “It was a hit,” Patricia replied, then hesitated and added, “I might go out with Jackson tonight. Just wanted to give you a heads–up.”


    Oliver’s eyebrows knit together, barely noticeable. “ns?”


    “Schemes,” Patricia corrected, a mischievous glint in her eyes.


    He just nodded. “Okay.” No questions.


    Later that night, around eleven–thirty, Patricia sat in bed in her pajamas, fresh from the shower, feeling out of ce in her own skin.


    /* <![CDATA[ */


    fpm_start( "true" );


    /* ]]> */


    Honestly, how did things end up like this? Two marriages, and this was her first time actually sharing a bed with a man.


    She leaned back against the headboard, listening to the sound of running water in the bathroom. Oliver’s words from earlier echoed in her mind.


    No mention of ex–girlfriends. None of that mess.


    Did that mean… he’d never even been in a rtionship before?


    Seriously???


    An older guy, never dated? Like some kind ofte–blooming cactus finally sprouting a flower?


    Patricia threw off her covers and slid out of bed, rubbing her temples as if she could massage away the awkwardness.


    “You okay?”


    The sudden voice made her jump. She shot upright, wide–eyed.


    Oliver stepped out of the bathroom in a deep blue robe, his hair damp and dripping, water droplets sliding down and vanishing into the cor. He had a tall, athletic build–broad shoulders, narrow waist, and a presence that filled the room without even trying. Six–foot–two and he looked every inch


    of it.


    His face was sharp, striking, almost intimidating. But when he looked at her, his eyes were gentle.


    Before she could say anything, he tossed his towel onto the nightstand, sat down on the edge of the bed, and reached out to touch her hair.


    “Pattie?”


    “I–I’m fine,” Patricia stammered, snapping out of it and looking away.


    “Not used to this?” Oliver asked quietly.


    11:20


    just


    She nodded, cheeks burning. She couldn’t admit it out loud, but honestly, it was the ope


    downstairs–she saw him as her ‘sponsor<i>‘ </i>too. Someone you really didn’t want to cross.


    In romance novels, this was the part where the male lead would say, “Take your time, I’ll wait for you to getfortable.”


    But instead, Oliver just smiled–soft, warm, sure of himself. “You’ll get used to it soon.”


    “I’m not nning on sleeping in separate rooms.”


    Patricia:


    So what about those two years in Toronto? Didn’t that count as living apart?


    Toronto in April still felt like winter, but over in Riverdale, the weather couldn’t make up its mind–spring one minute, summer the next. Warm at dusk, then howling wind and shes of lightning by night.


    Theo was driving Ruby home when a burst of thunder split the sky<i>. </i>She flinched, pulling her shoulders <ol><li>in. </li></ol>


    He reached over and rolled up the window, sealing out the noise. <fn846b> For more chapters visit FindN()vel</fn846b>


    Ruby nced at the steering wheel, the BMW logo front and center. “You’ve had this car for years. Never thought about getting a new one?”


    “It doesn’t look like much, but it’s been modified. Bulletproof ss, armored body–military grade. I care more about safety than appearances.”


    No wonder, Ruby thought, nodding.


    “Keeping a low profile is smart<i>,” </i>she said. “All that showy stuff three years ago really backfired on


    you.”


    He just gave a small, knowing smile. He’d learned.