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S CARLETT
In one morning, I’d heard enough about the Oliver family to last a lifetime, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock. The “East Coast Emperors”, some people called them – the kind of business-savvy tycoons who came from generations of old money and gave just enough of their riches to charity to seem altruistic, at least to the short-sighted viewer. But on that unseasonably hot April morning, they were being talked about for a very different reason.
At first, I figured the matriarch, Tamara, had announced a surprise engagement or wedding, or maybe her daughter Alison had released a surprise collection in one of her many lifestyle, jewelry, or fashion empires. I knew the fuss couldn’t be about Adrian. Adrian Oliver was the youngest member of the family at twenty-eight years old, and he was a sensationalist media darling as well as a prominent feature in every trashy tabloid. He was talked about so much already that there was no way anything he could have done would make CNN, MSNBC, and CBS News talk about the Oliver family at such length... that morning, there had been no escaping them.
Starting from the time I turned on the news to check the weather at my apartment to scanning the radio on my drive into work to entering the university, all I heard were snippets of the name Oliver buzzing around my ears. I hoped no one I worked with was vapid enough to be invested in the family, but I soon found that I was sorely mistaken. Not only did the people at work appear to care about the Olivers, but that morning, they were enraptured by them.
I said my good-mornings and made excuses to get to my office as quickly as possible, eager to remove myself from the frivolities of the modern world and get swept up in the Spanish Inquisition; my current field of expertise. Within thirty minutes of being granted my reprieve and sitting down comfortably, one of the library assistants hurried up to my desk, looking frazzled and overly-excited.
“Line three for you, Dr. Quinnes,” she said, her stage whisper louder than normal. “Dr. Quinnes, the call... it’s not a, uh, normal call.”
“Cassie, it’s not personal, is it? I’ve specifically said I don’t allow personal calls to my work number-”
“No, no, nothing like that, it’s work related.” Cassie, a student of twenty-two, shook her head emphatically and looked around to make sure no one else could hear her. Of course, no one could – I worked in relative isolation, as I liked it.
“Oh. Well, alright, thank you.”
Cassie seemed rooted to her spot in front of my desk, and I tilted my head in concern when she made no move to walk away.
“Something wrong?” I asked, hesitantly reaching for the phone on my desk.
“Uhhh...”
I was vaguely aware of a few other coworkers mulling about outside my door, but I failed to make a connection between them and Cassie’s odd behavior.
“Good morning,” I greeted the person on the other line. “This is Dr. Scarlett Quinnes. How can I help you?”
“Scarlett. Pretty name.”
I frowned. The voice sounded oddly familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I knew it wasn’t any of the other university historians; they would never say something like that. They were all far too shy, with their noses in their books and minds stuck hundreds of years in the past.
“And, um, may I ask who is calling?” I ignored the compliment and got to business.
“Sure you can. This is Adrian Oliver. You might have heard of me,” the voice said, sounding cocky and languid.
I looked up at Cassie, my eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. She must have been recruited by someone in another department to play a prank on me. I always hated the way the other departments – mostly the sciences – liked to harass the history “nerds”, as though they were somehow better.
“Listen, I don’t have time for this. Goodbye.”
“Wait.”
Against my better instinct, I paused. There was something so authoritative about that voice, something so strong and confident. It was almost arousing.
“Make this quick,” I said, trying to ignore the heat rising in my face.
“I really am Adrian Oliver, and I take it you do know who I am,” he said, not sounding any more urgent than he had before.
“I know a bit about your family, yes,” I told him.
“Well, it’s actually my family that wants to hire you. I’m calling on their behalf. We’re in need of someone with your... unique expertise.”
I didn’t like his tone; it almost sounded like he was poking fun at me and what I do. “And exactly what might the Oliver family want from me, a humble historian?”
“Oh, I don’t know if I’d call you that.” Adrian gave a low chuckle, and just like his command earlier, it was undeniably sexy. “I did my research on you, Miss Scarlet.”
“Doctor,” I corrected him, trying to remain professional.
“Miss Doctor Scarlett,” he amended, teasing me. “You are not exactly a ‘humble historian’. Let’s see... you were a violin prodigy as a child, finished high school at fifteen, graduated with a bachelor’s degree from Oxford at nineteen – magna cum laude , I might add – completed your master’s at Cambridge, and returned to Oxford for your doctorate. You’ve published very well-received articles, and a book that won several prizes. Now you’re considered one of the top experts in the country – hell, maybe the world – on seventeenth-century Europe, specializing in Spanish relations. Does that sound right, Doctor ?”
I hated the way he dragged out my title. I hated that he knew so much about me, including my childhood history... I tried to keep the prodigy bit out of my life. For whatever reason, when people find out one was an especially precocious child, they seem to expect far too much from that person, and I’d spent most of my adult life dodging that.
“Yes,” I said sharply. “Now exactly why are you calling me, Mr. Oliver?”
“We’ve got a bit of a situation over here.” Adrian’s voice lowered, and he sounded a little more serious now. “There’s a guy who’s been running around claiming that one of my ancestors robbed one of his ancestors blind, way back a few hundred years ago. Problem is, this guy claims he’s got proof, and it all looks kind of legit. He’s hired a lawyer, a damn good one, and he’s trying to take us to court. If what he’s saying is true, we’re gonna end up paying him a lot of money. I mean, a lot . I mean... listen, Doctor, I’m telling you this in confidence.” The way that Adrian’s voice dropped half an octave as he murmured conspiratorially sent a shiver down my spine.
“Of course.”
“We could lose most of our fortune. Even my sister, who runs her own multi-million-dollar business, would owe him a huge chunk of the profits, since she used her inheritance to start the company. It could ruin us, you know?”
I found myself sympathizing with him, mostly because of his voice, which was now very sincere. “Mr. Oliver, I’m very sorry you find yourself in this position, truly. But I am not a lawyer-”
“I know, we’ve already got some of those,” Adrian interrupted me, trying to sound flippant again. “But you’ve got the knowledge and background we need. You know how to get to the right resources and find out if this is real or not. You’re going to make or break our case, and we really need you.”
“I wish I could help, I really do. But I can’t just abandon my work here-”
“Listen, if you help us, we’ll pay you twenty-five thousand dollars.”
I choked on my intake of breath.
––––––––
A DRIAN
My mother had instructed me to wait at the airport for the good Doctor, which I figured was inspired by courtesy but executed by punishment. I was hungover and my upper body ached. The girl I’d been with the night before was – I cannot make this up – a Russian acrobat. She was one martini in, and I was... farther gone. So, I was willing to try anything she suggested. Not that I’d take any of it back... what I remember much of it, anyway.
It was a birthday party for a friend; a guy I’d known for half my life. His twenty-ninth birthday. I almost felt bad that I was the one getting laid... almost. The other guys had been rooting for me – though maybe it was just because I’d paid for everything – so I couldn’t feel too bad. I’d taken care in my earlier years to surround myself with people who wouldn’t judge me for my hedonistic ways, like my family sometimes did. The press pretended to, but those trash magazines and TMZ-types thrived on my antics. And why shouldn’t they? It was all in the name of enjoying life. And hell, I’d experienced enough of life to know that you had to grab what you wanted when you could.
All of that came to a screeching, sobering halt when I encountered William Sarajevo. He shouldn’t have been a threat. He was a short, scrawny, simpering man worth about seventy-five thousand dollars... we’d had our lawyers look into that, of course. The guy claimed that in the 1500s, my great-to-the-fortieth-power-grandfather stole an entire shipment of rare goods from him, and the profits that went with it. Obviously I wasn’t going to read them, but the lawyers checked every detail of his 70-page claim, and they said he might have a legitimate case. His whole selling point was that Old Grandpa Oliver – Olivier back then – was responsible for the merchant Sarajevo’s bankruptcy, and the stolen goods were used to build up a family fortune that’s now fallen on us.
Fan-fucking-tastic, naturally. William Sarajevo says he’s got proof, so we had to get better proof. And that is how I ended up standing in the JFK Airport, holding a sign that read Quinnes in fancy script, wearing jeans, sneakers, a hoodie, and a surgeon-style face mask. Since most of the country only knew what I looked like in the sexiest of Armani suits or, as I wasn’t too ashamed to admit, mostly nude, I hoped this would grant me the anonymity I needed.
Twenty minutes ticked by, and I was getting tense. Just as the security guards looked like they were coming to have a few words with me, I saw Scarlett Quinnes walking towards me, her face neutral and her walk poised and focused.
“Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Scarlett Quinnes. I assume you are my driver?” She was looking at the mask with uncertainty, but didn’t seem too bothered by it, though she opted out of any kind of handshake.
“Something like that,” I muttered. Her hazel eyes flashed in recognition when she heard my voice, and a smug smile began to worm its way over her mouth.
“Let’s go, please, I’ll discuss it in the car.” Without saying anything else, I grasped the handle of her suitcase and marched towards the door. She still had her scholarly satchel over her body, and held onto it as she jogged in sturdy black heels to keep up with me.
To her credit, she reached the car only seconds after I did, and refrained from saying anything to me until I’d shoved the suitcase into the trunk and took my spot in the driver’s side. She’d already made herself comfortable riding shotgun, messing with my seat adjustments to accommodate her smaller frame.
“Make yourself at home,” I said, taking off the mask. She turned to me, and I saw her expression change rapidly, twice. The first was a face I was used to seeing; what can I say? I inherited some great genes from decades of trophy wives as well as the money from their wealthy husbands. But Scarlett took great care to wipe the look of an admiring woman off her face as soon as she gathered herself.
“Well, we need proper introductions,” she said, fastening her seatbelt. She stuck out her hand, and I was surprised at how firm her grip was. “Doctor Scarlett Quinnes, historian.”
“Mr. Adrian Oliver,” I replied, raising an eyebrow ever-so-slightly. “Most enticing playboy you’ll ever meet. Probably the richest, too.”
She scoffed. “We’ll see about that last part in a month.”
I had to admit I was a little surprised, by two things. First, this woman wasn’t pulling any punches with me, which wasn’t something I was too used to. Second, she was much prettier than I’d imagined she’d be. I knew the basics about her, but I hadn’t actually seen any pictures. And between the black blouse, gray checkered pencil skirt, black heels, tortoiseshell glasses, and long, brunette ponytail, she gave off a sexy-librarian vibe like no other.
The immediate understanding of those two thoughts led me to another conclusion. She was coming off kind of frigid, but damn, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t consider having sex with her. It was one of those thoughts you just have , like, “I’m gonna run this red light” or “I’m going to Ibiza for the next two weeks and nobody better call me.” It just passed through my mind like a clear understanding: I want this woman.
But I had a feeling that if it wasn’t in her job description, she wasn’t interested. But, of course, that could change. And when it comes to me, it usually does.
––––––––
S CARLETT
I certainly hadn’t expected Adrian Oliver to drive himself to the airport, much less drive me back to his family’s estate. I figured the Olivers were the kind of people who owned property in every U.S. territory, so I wasn’t surprised to hear they had a grand, rustic cottage-type house in upstate New York. I asked a few questions during the drive, making sure to space them out a little so there wouldn’t be one long, awkward silence.
Adrian answered them all in a tone that always sounded like he was teasing me, like he knew more than I did... which might have been true in some aspects, but damn it, I had a PhD, and I had to remind myself of that a few times. Especially when I caught him looking at me out of the corner of his eye, licking his lips when my gaze met his, and when I could tell he was subtly trying to impress me when he showed off all the Porsche’s features, as though it weren’t enough that the car itself was a Porsche .
An hour into the drive, I started to relax a little. I was starting to really comprehend that I was in a luxury car with a gorgeous billionaire, but I also reconciled myself with the fact that he was just a person, at the end of it all. And without me, this golden boy could easily fall from grace along with his mother and sister.
I kept these thoughts going on a loop through my brain as we arrived at the Oliver family’s piece of New York real estate. I had only just gotten used to Adrian’s presence when suddenly, butlers in nicer clothes than any of the professors at the university ever wore to work were taking my bags from the car, offering me drinks, and helping me up the front stairs.
I felt too rushed and unprepared for my assignment, but just before we walked into the foyer, Adrian stood next to me, grinned, and offered me his arm. I didn’t hesitate in taking it; despite our brief acquaintanceship, there was at least something mildly familiar about him.
“Relax your shoulders.” He leaned down –I was a good deal shorter than he was– and put his mouth far too close to my ear. His warm breath tickled the side of my neck while he murmured the words at me, keeping his eyes on the front entrance as it was opened for us by two doormen. It took all I had not to shiver visibly at the sensations, and I gave him a smile that I hoped didn’t look as uneasy as it felt.
He led me into the foyer and further into the house, and just as we reached a gleaming wooden staircase, a dark-haired figure appeared at the top and hurried down to meet us.
“Hi, I’m Alison Oliver.” She took my hand and shook it with enthusiasm. “I’m Adrian’s older sister.”
“I’m Scarlett Quinnes,” I replied. She, like Adrian, was a nearly-flawless human being. They both shared the same jet-black hair with blue eyes, but hers were a light blue-gray while his were dark and almost indigo. She was sharply dressed in navy trousers and a blazer over a crisp, white blouse, with practical and stylish white heels on her feet. And when she took in the sight of her younger brother, she glared.
“Adrian, is that -” Alison gestured loosely to Adrian’s entire outfit, “-really the impression you want to make on our guest?”
“You sent the jester to represent the court, what did you expect?” Adrian was not even remotely intimidated by Alison, and walked right past her when their mother came into the room, bumping her with his shoulder.
While Alison had a formidable, take-charge air about her, Teresa Oliver seemed more a figurehead, like the Queen of England. She didn’t seem to have much real power –that was all mostly Alison– but she did many public appearances and charity events to represent their good name. She had been married four times, giving birth to Adrian and Alison later in life with her second husband, the original Mr. Oliver. He’d passed away a few years prior to my introduction to the family, but from what I understood, Teresa’s subsequent marriages had all failed rather quickly. She refused to change her name when the father of her children died, and if the men had married her for her money, they hadn’t seen much of it. Rumors had circulated a few times that Adrian, at nineteen, punched his first stepfather in the face after seeing the man give Teresa an ultimatum regarding money and their marriage. This had only endeared the public to him more as they dubbed him a rich bad-boy with a heart of gold and soft spot for his mother.
Right.
“Doctor Quinnes, lovely to meet you, thank you for your willingness to work with us and for coming out on such short notice.” Teresa Oliver spoke rapidly, as though at any moment I might interject and inform her that something she was so happy about was incorrect. She shook my hand with a vigor that surprised me coming from a rather frail-looking woman.
“I – oh, yes, of course. You’re quite welcome.” Before I could say anything else, Teresa was pouncing on me again.
“You must be tired from your flight. And that drive! We’ll get you something drink, something to eat, and perhaps you’d like to take a quick cat-nap upstairs, hmm? It’s no problem, take your time, we want you to be comfortable, after all, you’re here doing us a favor-”
“Mom.” Adrian spoke the single word firmly, in a voice that commanded everyone’s attention. It was the same voice that had gripped me over the phone. With the added visual of the man in front of me, holding an unlit cigarette between his teeth, it was almost too much for my senses to handle at once.
“I think you’re freaking Scarlett out a little.” I noticed he didn’t add my title to it, or address me by my last name. If it was some kind of power play –I knew these rich types were famous for that – he would have to try a little harder.
“Don’t worry yourself, Adrian, I can handle myself quite alright,” I answered smoothly, only feeling less self-assured when he looked up at me without raising his head, his eyes glimmering with the smile his lips didn’t hold while he raised the lighter to a cigarette.
“Adrian !” Alison barked out his name. “Smoke that outside, for God’s sake. You know I can’t stand tobacco.”
“Sure thing.” Adrian sauntered away towards the door, and I had a feeling that his smoking was, in this instance, just a convenient way to get out of negotiations. Before he closed the front door behind him, he glanced from his mother, to me, to Alison, and took a drag. “And, Alison, don’t worry. It’s not tobacco.”
––––––––
A DRIAN
I had a laugh at my sister’s expense as I stepped outside with my joint. Scarlett had looked on in confusion while my mother just seemed tired, like she’d come to expect it. What I smoked was a pretty weak strain, and I’d only recently taken the habit back up again outside of a “party” environment in order to alleviate the building stress. But no one else needed to know that.
I stayed outside for a while, eventually using the back door to come in the house again, which allowed me to get up to my rooms without seeing anyone else already there, minus a few disinterested butlers. I slipped into my bathroom, shedding my shabby “civilian” clothes and getting into a hot shower. If only for my own amusement, I thought of Scarlett while I lathered shampoo into my hair and let the suds run down my body.
I wondered how much she’d seen of me before this. Did she ever see those pictures of me, naked, that had been floating around for a while from when I went to Monaco? Surely, she must have some idea of what I looked like undressed. I’d done a few Calvin Klein shoots in the past, and my bare chest had been plastered over a number of billboards across the world for a while.
That could be a good jumping off point. It leaves us in a rather unsatisfactory position, Doctor. You see, you know much more about me than I do about you. We’ll get to know each other better over some Bombay Sapphire over ice; clothing is optional but strongly discouraged. What made the idea even more exciting to me was the knowledge that outside of the fantasy, Scarlett would almost certainly never entertain the idea of taking me up on the offer. But the fantasy was another story. It continued in my head as I stepped out of the shower, drying off with no real rush.
She flushed, her hair loose around her shoulders and glasses slipping down her nose. “Mr. Oliver, please, I’m just here on business...” She would protest weakly, of course, but her hands would already be working at the buttons of her blouse, mine coming up quickly to help her...
There was a knock on the bathroom door that startled me from the daydream seconds before I could decide what kind of bra Scarlett would wear, and how I would subsequently take it off. I tucked my towel in front of me, just enough to cover the important parts, knowing it was probably Alison coming to scold me for any number of wrongdoings I’d committed in the past twenty-four hours. The list was long, and even then, those were only the ones she knew about.
I opened the door halfway, ready to match whatever snarky comment my sister was about to make, and stopped dead in my tracks when the eyes looking back up at me were definitely not my sister’s.
“Ohmygod, ohmygod, I’m so sorry,” Scarlett mumbled, turning her reddening face away from me and towards the floor.
I was both aroused and horrified when I saw her – she looked so much like she had in my fantasy. Her hair had been partially let down, her face was covered in a warm pink blush, and her glasses were slowly sliding down her face as she strived to look anywhere but at me. The cool, collected vibe she’d had going on earlier was completely gone now, and it was this look at her raw vulnerability that made her even sexier to me.
Knowing that someone so intelligent and self-assured could also be reduced to a sexually-excited mess by me only strengthened my desire for her. It suddenly became a kind of predator/prey dynamic in my mind... in the short while we’d known each other, our mutual attraction had become blatantly obvious, and we’d already switched positions in the dynamic more than once. Now, we were on my territory, but I knew Scarlett wouldn’t be backing down so easily. All the more reason for a chase. I hadn’t had a good one of those in quite a while.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who’s indecent here.” I opened the door a little further, letting more steam out of the bathroom. The cold air from the hall hit my skin, sending a shiver down my spine and causing me to grip the doorframe harder.
“I was, um, I was looking for the room, fourth on the left, Alison said...” Scarlett stumbled over her words, unable to meet my eyes.
“Yeah, no, that’s one door further down that way,” I said nonchalantly, gesturing towards the proper room. I leaned against the doorframe, keeping the towel in front of me, but letting it fall a little lower, so Scarlett could see the sharp “V” of my hips meeting my torso. Water droplets made tracks down my firm abs, collecting when they hit the towel, and Scarlett looked anywhere but at me.
“Oh, right, I didn’t see that door there on the...” Scarlett cleared her throat, collected herself, and straightened up a little. She forced her gaze onto my face, locking her eyes with mine so she wasn’t tempted to look anywhere else.
I smirked. “So, how’d it go down there?” My wording was completely intentional, but Scarlett held her ground with me.
“Your family is lovely,” she said. “I can’t figure out what might’ve happened to you .”
“It’s usually just the men,” I shrugged. “We can’t help ourselves.”
“Seems a pathetic excuse for being a jerk.” Scarlett crossed her arms over her chest and stood with a hip jutted out to one side, her eyebrow raised. “Anyway, that really doesn’t matter. I hope you’re prepared for an early morning tomorrow.”
I groaned. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m more a fan of late nights. Did you know things actually heat up a lot when the sun goes down?” I leaned closer to her. “Does your job even give you a chance to learn that? Do you give yourself a chance?”
“I know plenty,” she snapped. “I know we’ll be making our way back to the airport tomorrow. I know we’re catching an 8 a.m. flight to Barcelona, Spain. I know that I’m stuck with you for the next few days while I get to the bottom of what looks to be a trade deal gone wrong.” The more she spoke, the angrier she sounded.
“What ? Why do I have to go?”
“That’s as good a question as any, considering you’re pretty much useless.” Scarlett was getting her footing back with me. “But your lawyers insist that someone from the family accompany me, and it can’t be your mother or your sister. They actually have jobs .”
“And I don’t? I mean, I’ve been reduced to a babysitter?”
“Well, if even half of what your mother says about your affinity for a good Spanish red is true, I doubt you’ll be the one left feeling like a babysitter.” She stepped closer to me, and I knew she could feel the heat radiating off my still-wet skin.
“Just remember.” She lowered her voice in a way that I assume she meant to be threatening, but only served to turn me on faster than I could comprehend. “This is business to me. This is my job, my career. I have worked too long and too hard to get here for some spoiled prince to jeopardize it. I clawed my way up to the top, fighting sexism, doubt, and everyone’s preconceived notions of me.” At this, she faltered, realizing she might be revealing too much, but she recovered and continued. “All of that may mean nothing to you, but it is everything to me. And I swear to you, if I suspect for one minute you might put my livelihood at risk, I will catch the first flight back home and leave you to figure this mess out on your own.”
I was holding the towel with a looser grip, and it was coming dangerously close to not covering anything . But I was staring into Scarlett’s eyes, watching the fire burn inside them match her fierce promise, and the rest of the world was only background noise to me. I stepped closer to her, and though I could have towered over her, I didn’t want to appear intimidating. I just wanted her to know I was serious about what I said, and of course ready to have sex with her at a moment’s notice.
“This is my family we’re talking about. I’m not going to do anything to hurt them, and I’m not going to do anything that might hurt you. I’ll work with you on this, and I’ll teach you to have a little fun. Both can happen, you know.” One corner of my mouth came up in a smirk. “Now you have two choices. You can either go to your room over there, or you can come to my room over here .”
Scarlett took a deep breath and stepped back.
I’d never had a door slammed in my face so hard.
––––––––
S CARLETT
I was livid. Mostly at myself. But also at Adrian. Who the hell does he think he is? Just when it seems like I’m getting through to him, he’s got to go and be a dick about it , I was griping to myself internally as I paced around the guest room that the Olivers had been gracious enough to lend me for the night. Though I’d insisted I didn’t mind staying at a hotel, and might even prefer it, they were ever the perfectly-presenting host family, and I didn’t want to offend them.
Still, it was frustrating to know I would have taken Adrian up on his offer, had it been any other situation. I was stupidly, furiously attracted to him, and any outward hatred I showed was only serving to cover up how badly I wanted to feel him on me. He annoyed me, sure, but there was something about his challenging, bad-boy behavior that made me want to fuck him senseless.
It had been so long since I’d felt like that about anyone. I never had much time for dating, or even interest. Most people I could meet through friends were already colleagues, and to use a very crude phrase: I don’t shit where I eat.
Ugh , I thought. This must be Adrian’s influence. I’m talking like some crass college student.
I also could never bring myself to sign up for any kind of online dating or match-finder programs. I had tried that, once, at the behest of my cousin, who was two years older than me and already married with a child. She’d made a profile for me without my knowledge, but I’d agreed to go out with a guy from the site who’d shown some interest in me. We weren’t more than thirty minutes into dinner when he confessed that he was a writer for a network morning show, and he was given an assignment for a “flashback” episode. Apparently, it had been almost twenty years since I first appeared on that same show as a child, showing off my prodigious violin skills in front of the world. He admitted he wanted to interview me, and no, he wasn’t interested in dating me.
I distinctly remember slapping two twenty-dollar bills on the table, grabbing my purse, and walking out of the restaurant without looking back. That was two years before Adrian Oliver came into my life, and nothing had happened for me with any man since.
I stewed over my memories, opening and re-opening old wounds, for most of the night. I eventually did fall asleep, because damn , rich people sure do know how to make a nice bed. It must have been the thread count of the sheets and the stuffing of the pillows, because I didn’t remember actually falling asleep, but I woke up feeling like I was resting on a perfect cloud.
Begrudgingly, I got out of bed and packed up all my things, making sure the room was spotless before I left. I had to wait on Adrian, because of course I had too, and Alison, claiming she’d always been an early riser, made me some coffee before we left.
Less than a minute before our car was supposed to leave for the airport, Adrian stumbled his way downstairs in a pair of dark jeans and a grey Henley. He wore sunglasses, but at least there was no ridiculous pseudo-disguise today.
“Try not to shame this family any more than you already have, Ade.” Alison sighed, sounding exhausted. Adrian nodded wordlessly before picking up my bag and his –apparently that kind of behavior was just ingrained in him– without a second thought.
“Take care of yourself, Dr. Quinnes. Bring us back good news,” Alison said, smiling at me hopefully.
“I’ll do what I can. Give your mother my best, and thank you both for the hospitality.” I shook Alison’s hand and hurried out the door, climbing into the car swiftly as Adrian was still taking his time. We had barely gotten onto the freeway on the road to the airport when I heard him snoring faintly next to me. I rolled my eyes.
Despite who I was stuck with, I was excited about our mission. I’d never really had the opportunity to do field work, since I’d thrown myself into academia from the beginning of my career and hadn’t emerged since. I didn’t mind being cooped up in libraries and lecture halls, but even I knew the benefits of getting out of the old comfort zone. Besides, I could always lean on the fact that I would never be the least knowledgeable person in the room.
That, of course, would be Adrian.
We made it to the airport and got through security without any complications. I turned to Adrian once we were in the main terminal, standing at a cross-section of gates.
“Alright, which gate are we flying out of?”
“Not any of these.” Adrian lowered his sunglasses a bit to look around. “God, you didn’t think we’d be flying commercial , did you?”
“I...” So much for being the most knowledgeable person in the room.
Adrian chuckled, deep and throaty. “Scarlett, I have, like, four private jets.” He stopped, frowned, and continued. “Well, I did . Two are in repair and the other two are, uh, being loaned out for some of my buddies. This one is my mother’s, which would explain the heinous departure time.”
“Heinous . Didn’t really expect that to be in your vocabulary,” I grumbled, unsure of what to say when I was once again reminded of just how different our two worlds really were.
“I did go to some very good schools,” he said. “And when I did badly there, I had some very good tutors. Of course, they couldn’t figure out what was going on when it was very clear I didn’t need them.”
“Let me guess. You knew everything, but pretended you didn’t, because doing otherwise wouldn’t have worked for your image?” I replied, snarky.
“No. I knew everything but I never showed up to class or did the homework. If I already knew what I needed to know, what was the point of anything else? I got by acing tests, and I graduated, and, you know, what else could I do?”
By this point, Adrian and I had shown our I.D. cards to a security officer and were being led down to the plane. We stopped talking every so often when our bags were being loaded on and when Adrian stopped to talk to the pilots. I was already on the plane and seated on a plush couch with a mimosa in my hand when Adrian got on and took a seat on a leather armchair across from me.
“So, telling you all that, here’s what I don’t get.” Adrian had taken off his sunglasses and seemed a little more awake but still relaxed.
“How in the hell did you survive school the way you did?” he asked me. “And then kept going into more school? And, what, just never stopped?”
“What do you mean? I was – am – good at school. When I found my niche in academia, I stuck with it, and used what I could to my advantage so I’d be able to keep going and excel in my field,” I told him.
I didn’t like being reminded that while the classes were easy, the overall experience of school wasn’t. Skipping grades made me feel like even more of an outsider, and even as an accomplished adult scholar I faced skepticism from people because of my age and background. I’d spent the better part of my conscious childhood trying desperately to live up to expectations, and it took me years of study (and some therapy) to become confident enough in my own abilities that I could ignore the rest of the annoying buzz around me.
“You didn’t just want to finish and get out? That’s what I did.”
“I can see that,” I said, not so harsh this time. “What else was I supposed to do? I didn’t have a fallback. School was where all my talents lay, and it was a safe option above all else.” Before I could say anything more, I suddenly realized what the gap between our understanding was.
“Adrian...” I continued. “I didn’t have billions of dollars behind me, okay? I didn’t have much of anything growing up, and what that does to a kid... well, you learn from a very young age that you have to have realistic goals. You have to choose a career that will carry you through life, make you money, and keep you afloat. So, you find what you’re good at and make a job of it. I just had my work cut out for me.”
Adrian, for once, seemed to be at a loss for words. Meanwhile, I was turning red and trying to disappear into the couch. I couldn’t believe how much I’d revealed to him all at once. What happened to my professionalism? Did it all go out the window when I spent the night before so sexually frustrated because of him? I had to get my head on straight and practice what I’d been preaching about business and focusing on the task at hand.
Adrian and I said nothing else to each other until we landed in Barcelona, taking naps in shifts and amusing ourselves in other ways the whole trip. But by the time the wheels touched the ground in Spain, I was jumpy with excitement for the first time in a very, very long time.
––––––––
A DRIAN
The conversation on the plane with Scarlett had left me a little shaken, as much as I hated to admit it. It wasn’t that I was naïve to the workings of the rest of the world, but I tended to surround myself with people who lived my kind of lifestyle, and mine was the sort that required a lot of money. I knew I’d sounded stupid, but it wasn’t like I could apologize to her. I technically hadn’t done anything wrong, and though I was enjoying our constant scramble for power, apologizing would put us on a different level. There was nothing sexy about going to her like a kicked puppy with my tail between my legs, begging for forgiveness.
I decided I would just play it cool and let her come to me first, if she did at all. Once we were in Spain, though, she seemed to forget all about what had happened between us on the plane. I watched her take in our surroundings with wide, bright eyes, and wondered if she’d ever had a chance to travel before. I figured she wouldn’t have, unless she’d been on a study-abroad program or something.
We met a guide, a fellow scholar, in the airport. She was a middle-aged woman named Constance who introduced herself in English, Spanish, and French, then led us to a car and explained our lodging arrangements, as well as our schedule for research. Scarlett listened to her with rapt attention, and I figured she’d remember every detail, so I didn’t pay too much attention. I knew I’d just end up following Scarlett wherever she needed to go, sending periodic updates to my mom and sister when I could.
“So, any questions?” Constance asked a few minutes later, and I realized I must have been doing a better job of pretending to listen than I thought.
“Nothing that I won’t learn in action, I suppose,” Scarlett shrugged. “You will be accompanying us to the historical library tomorrow, correct? I’m afraid I’m not too familiar with the layout.”
I noticed Scarlett’s Ivy-League vocabulary was making a strong appearance. She seemed simultaneously at home in the environment and completely out of her element. I’m sure being in a different country, tired and probably jet-lagged, was taking a toll on her, but there was no denying she knew what she was doing in this field.
“I will,” Constance assured her. “I will stay on the premises, but once you have what you need, I will leave you both to conduct your research privately.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Scarlett said quickly. “I mean, I will be doing the research on my own. Adrian is here only to represent the Oliver family.”
I felt like she was trying to distance herself from me, but for whose benefit?
“Ah, just one problem with that,” Constance said, looking from Scarlett to me and back quickly. “Mr. Oliver, I’m sure you know your family has graciously given the library a large grant in exchange for unlimited access to our more...sensitive documents. I do mean that quite seriously; some of what you’ll be seeing cannot be touched without gloves, for it is so old and delicate.”
Scarlett nodded emphatically. I, on the other hand, was not at all aware of the grant. I’m sure it was my mother’s doing. She had a way of making things happen.
“Therefore, you must be with Dr. Quinnes at all times when she is inside the library,” Constance continued. “It is the only way she will be able to view some of the pieces.”
“We understand,” I said firmly. I’d unconsciously moved closer to Scarlett as I listened to our guide, and found myself able to put an arm around her shoulders. I wondered if she was as hyper-aware of every part of our bodies that were touching as I was.
“Of course,” Scarlett said, mustering up a smile.
The hotel was a swanky joint, even by my standards. Scarlett looked ready to shrink into herself, but I took her arm in mine and made sure she couldn’t. Any awkwardness that may have passed between us on the plane was gone. I was the one familiar thing she had there, and while I didn’t want to take advantage of that fact, I enjoyed the way it felt.
Our rooms were across from each other on the top-most floor; individual suites that boasted every amenity imaginable.
“Well...” Scarlett looked like she didn’t want to leave my side, and I was somewhat startled by it. “I guess I will see you in the morning.” It was a statement, but she posed it like a question open for discussion.
“Right. And if you need anything between now and then, you know where to find me.” I smirked. “I can make you a map, if you like. You seem to be more comfortable with those.”
Scarlett rolled her eyes, but there was no malice behind it. “Just keep it down, alright? I don’t want to have to call in any noise complaints on you.”
“I’ll do my best, but no trip to Spain is complete without a good old-fashioned champagne-and-bourbon-filled orgy.”
The immediate horror that crossed Scarlett’s face was enough to make me laugh and break my serious expression.
“I’m kidding, Scarlett. No, that’d be France. Which, coincidentally, is right around the corner, if we finish early here and you want to see what all that’s about-”
“I’m sure I’ll be all funned-out by the time we’ve done what we have to do, thank you very much,” Scarlett said. She’d removed her arm from mine, but we still stood close, neither making a move towards our own door.
Without even thinking about it, I started to say something I wasn’t prepared to hear coming from my own mouth. “Hey. If what I said on the plane earlier... I mean, I kinda was a dick.”
“I know you didn’t mean anything by it,” Scarlett sighed. “I said a little more than I meant to, anyway. I know at the end of the day, we come from two very different worlds, and, you know, that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”
“I can buy you nice things and you can help me get my head out of my ass?” I suggested, only half-joking.
“I don’t need you to buy me things.” Scarlett’s face was neutral and she kept her voice even, but her eyes were sad. I didn’t see much of the fire that I’d seen there before, and I missed its warmth.
“I kind of need you, though.” I didn’t say anything else, but leaned in towards her.
“Sorry.” Scarlett put both hands firmly on my chest to stop me and looked into my eyes. “We’ve overstepped professionalism a little too much already.”
“God, Scarlett, when was the last time you let yourself enjoy anything?” I asked, exasperated. I put my hands over hers, holding them gently. “I’m not talking about week-long benders and group sex and crashing motorcycles and whatever else, I just mean letting yourself breathe and have fun and have desires and-”
“You don’t think I want that?!” she exclaimed in a burst of emotion, yanking her hands away. I was taken aback, but let her keep going. Clearly, this was a long time coming.
“I have to be the perfect picture of a scholar if I want to be taken seriously, despite the exemplary work I’ve already done. Any misstep reflects directly on my merit, and it’s indicative of my failings as a woman, a student, a historian... that’s so much pressure, Adrian. It’s so much and it’s been on me since I was a kid.” Though her voice didn’t waver, her throat tightened and I saw tears pooling in her eyes.
“I get pressure,” I told her. “I mean, no, I don’t get it like that , but... my dad, okay, he was a really good, smart guy. He died in a helicopter crash when I was thirteen – he was bringing medical supplies to an orphanage in Haiti. Every guy my mom got involved with after that was a disaster, and Alison pulled away from the family for a while, finishing school and starting her business. I figured she could keep the family legacy going fine on her own, so I took the pressure off myself. I established a strong reputation as... you know.”
Scarlett nodded, pushing her hair away from her face. I put one hand gently on her waist, slowly, so as not to startle her. She reminded me of a deer caught in headlights, unsure of which way to turn, not knowing where she would be safe. But I no longer saw this as submission, or saw her as something to catch.
“This is going to last a week, tops,” Scarlett said. “This job, I mean.” She spoke softly, but we were close enough that I could feel her breath on my lips.
“There aren’t any stuffy, pretentious men in tweed jackets here to judge you. There’s no reason you can’t enjoy yourself. This assignment will look good on your transcripts –not that they aren’t already really impressive– and this can just be something to remember fondly.”
“This?”
I released Scarlett and walked backwards to my door, sliding the key card and opening the door. I hadn’t been so excited, anxious, or full of anticipation in a long, long time. She pocketed her key card and never let her eyes leave my face.
––––––––
S CARLETT
I couldn’t say I let Adrian talk me into coming to his room, because I knew damn well what I was doing and I could have left at any time. I knew that without a doubt. There was no intimidation at play, and I didn’t feel that it would affect the job. Being halfway across the world with him almost didn’t feel like reality, so maybe my inhibitions were lowered because the consequences seemed less likely to actually come to light.
Adrian made me feel sexy and desired, and even if it could only be for this trip, it was nice to remember that I could feel that way. So I let him close the door behind us as I stepped close to him, putting one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck, ready to pull him to me.
His hands moved to my waist again, but now they were firmly set, and stroked up and down to my hips and back. It seemed like he was waiting for me, so I closed the distance between us and kissed him. His lips were soft, but the kiss was full of heat and escalated after a moment when he nipped my bottom lip and held me flush against his body. Through our clothes, I could feel the muscles of his abdomen –the ones I’d seen the night before– and even the erection that was forming.
“If you change your mind,” Adrian murmured against my mouth, “you say the word, and we’ll stop, and you can go back to your room, and we won’t ever mention this again.”
I could have melted. “You’re a good man, Adrian,” I whispered. “And I won’t be changing my mind.”
Adrian put his hands on the backs of my thighs, just under my ass, and I took the cue as he picked me up to wrap my legs around his waist. Still kissing, he moved us over to his king-sized bed, letting me fall onto it as he took off his shirt.
Laying on my back and watching him, I thought that bed must be the most luxurious thing I’d ever felt in my life. He’d only taken off his shirt when he came back down to me, kissing me again while he undid my blouse. My hands were tangled in his hair, pulling slightly, and he groaned and dropped his head to my neck when my shirt was off. While he set to work unfastening my bra, he kissed and sucked along the sensitive areas of my neck, licking the spots he set his teeth on and focusing on the places that made me whimper.
When my bra was off, his strong, warm hands slid up my torso and cupped my breasts, and he ran his thumbs over my nipples. My back arched up as I keened under him, and he kissed from my cleavage down to my skirt-clad waist, quickly remedying that by pulling the skirt’s zipper down and tossing it to the floor. I kicked my heels off before crawling up on the bed so I could put my head back on the pillows, and Adrian followed me up.
He settled himself between my legs, kissing my thighs but not coming close enough to where I really wanted him to be. I was so drunk on sensation that I barely felt him take my underwear off, but suddenly his mouth was on my pussy and I yelped.
“Too much?” he asked, his voice hazy with lust and longing.
“No no no no no,” I said rapidly. “Perfect.”
He chuckled and kept going. He alternated using the firm tip of his tongue and the more gentle, flattened licks, eventually staying in one space and using his fingers to open me up while his tongue focused on my clit.
When my legs started shaking, he gripped one of my thighs with his free hand so hard that I thought he might leave bruises. No... I hoped there’d be bruises.
“A-Adrian,” I choked out, starting to feel tension in my lower stomach that I hadn’t felt so strongly in a long time.
“I know,” was all he said before continuing his ministrations. It was only a few more moments before I was shaking uncontrollably, holding onto the bedsheets with a tight-fisted grip, and moaning without a care in the world for who might hear me.
When I came, my thighs squeezed around Adrian’s head, but he kept going until I was completely done, gasping and spent. I didn’t have time to be at all embarrassed for nearly suffocating him with my legs – he wiped his mouth and was back to kissing me again. My hands, almost of their own accord, moved down to Adrian’s pants, and he smiled against my lips and helped me by unfastening them and pulling them off, along with his boxers.
I pushed on his chest and he understood my meaning, rolling over so I was on top of his naked body and had a full view of the ridiculously fit man in the bed with me. I licked my palm and began to pump his fully-erect cock with my hand while he closed his eyes, let out a sharp breath, and tossed his head back against the pillows.
I was prepared to lower my head and put my mouth around him, but he stopped me with a grunt. I looked up questioningly, and he unfolded a hand to show me a condom wrapped in gold packaging. I took the condom from him and tore it open with my teeth, putting it on him quickly. If he couldn’t wait to get to the main event, I sure as hell couldn’t, especially since I’d already climaxed once and was more than ready to do it again.
I lowered myself onto him, both of us moaning quietly. It took me a few tries to take him fully; he was bigger than I’d expected, but he stayed still, holding onto my hips and letting me take my time. Once he’d bottomed out inside of me, I was so euphoric I couldn’t help giggling. Adrian watched me, smirking in a way that was even sexier when I saw his dark blue eyes were so blown with arousal.
When he started moving his hips, though, I stopped giggling and bit my lip, feeling every little sensation coursing through me. I met his thrusts with my own, riding him while he held onto my waist and guided me in a way that was equally pleasurable for the both of us. I never once stopped to think about how long we were going, just how good it felt.
When he reached up to rub my clit with his thumb, moving in small circles, I gasped and threw my head back. My inner walls were tightening again, so I knew he could tell I was close. I was trying to hold back a little, knowing a second orgasm would probably overwhelm me and I’d have to stop, but Adrian kept going and, if anything, went faster.
“Come for me, Scar,” he said, his voice strained. “I’m right behind you, baby.”
That was all the affirmation I needed to let go and climax a second time. I was panting as my heart pounded inside my chest, but when I saw Adrian’s eyes shut tightly and his jaw clench, I was filled with adoring emotion, dropping my head to his chest as he came inside me.
We rested like that for a second, Adrian relinquishing his grip on me and sighing. He stroked my back gently until I no longer felt quite so wobbly, and then pushed up and off him, collapsing at his side. I felt him pull the condom off and toss it out as I made myself comfortable. I was far too hot to crawl under the covers, but not so hot that I wouldn’t take Adrian’s outstretched arm as an invitation to curl up against him.
“Thanks,” I said, still catching my breath.
“Right back at you.” Adrian already sounded more put-together than I did, but I figured he had more experience in this area. He knew how to make a quick recovery.
“No, really,” I said. “I wasn’t even sure I could still enjoy sex like that.”
“A good lay will change your life,” Adrian said, a smug smile on his face. “A really good lay reminds you that you are alive.”
“Do you always get philosophical after sex?” I asked, looking up at him.
“Only when it’s great sex,” he replied, kissing the top of my head.
I didn’t end up using my own room key the whole rest of the trip.
Afterword
ADRIAN
I couldn’t have asked for a better punishment than going to Spain with Scarlett.
What could I say? We kept our money thanks to her thorough investigation, during which she proved that at least one document was falsified by William Sarajevo’s ancestor, and that multiple claims were mixed in with similar traders, so there was not enough concrete evidence to prove we owed the guy anything. I didn’t understand the fine details, but I left that up to Scarlett’s genius.
Sarajevo later apologized to us personally – me, my mother, my sister, and Scarlett. He said he was sorry he’d wasted our time and ensured us he was only trying to do what he thought was right, explaining his only real motivation behind making the claim was to send his four daughters to college, but if he’d known any of it was false he wouldn’t have pursued it. Obviously, we weren’t going to hold a grudge.
Scarlett had looked sad after he left. When I asked her what was wrong, she told me that if it hadn’t been for her genius as a child, she likely wouldn’t have gone to college at all. She understood the position Sarajevo’s family was in.
Quietly, Alison and I transferred a quarter of a million dollars to Sarajevo, on the condition it be used for his daughters’ education.
It only came out a few months later that we’d done anything. I hadn’t heard much from Scarlett in that time, only a quick thank-you call out of courtesy when I’d paid her the twenty-five thousand dollars we owed her for her work. After I sent the money to Sarajevo, she called again.
“I just wanted to say congratulations,” she told me. “I haven’t seen your face –or other parts of your body– as much as I used to. You know, in the tabloids and such.”
“You miss seeing my body?” I asked, only half-teasing.
“Ha. Who wouldn’t?” Then her voice got more serious. “It’s really, really good of you to do what you did for that man’s family. And then to not make a big deal of it – I barely even knew.”
“Well, it was for a good cause. And how’s your payment working out?”
“I’m leading a team to completely revamp the history department at our sister school. Some of their textbooks still mention that we can’t know how the Cold War will end,” Scarlett said. I smiled. Of course that’s what she was doing with the money.
“So, what, no Bahamian vacations?”
“I’m actually quite partial to Western Europe.”
I felt my heart beat a little faster.
“What a coincidence. So am I. An even bigger coincidence... I’m going there next weekend.”
“Well, I’m sure that will be lovely.”
“What, you expect me to go alone?” I grinned. “I bought two tickets.” I hadn’t bought any tickets, actually, but that was a minor detail.
“Have fun with Alison, I suppose.”
“Come on , Scarlett,” I groaned.
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Scarlett Quinnes, will you please do me the honor of accompanying me to Spain next weekend?”
I heard her laugh. It was a sound I hadn’t realized I missed so terribly until I heard it again.
“Sure, but that’s Doctor Scarlett Quinnes.”
THE END
