Lissa
“You’re a lying bitch,” James hisses at me, so close I can feel his breath on my cheek. “I just spoke to
the fucking nurses. I know what Henry’s been admitted for. I’m his father. I should take him away from you
forever for ke eping this from me.”
I back away from him until the corner of the wall is digging painfully into my shoulder blades. His eyes
are wild and terrifying.
With shaking hands, I reach into my bag and pull out my phone, trying to summon every ounce of my
strength, pretending this isn’t my ex-husband but just some stranger I need to get rid of.
“I have a protective order, James. You can’t be within 500 feet of me unless it’s officially agreed—”
“Shut the fuck up, Lissa. As if that applies when our son has cancer!” “I know I should have told you—”
I attempt. I suck in a sharp breath as he pokes his finger into my chest. It’s not hard, but it’s hard enough to
remind me what he’s capable of.
“I had to find out about this from some nobody behind the rec eption desk. You think you can ke ep me
out of this with your fucking order? He’s my son, don’t you dare try to weaponize him against me.”
“I have sole custody,” I manage to get out, but it’s a whisper. Why am I so useless? Then a shadow
appears in the hallway beside us. For a moment, I think it’s the doctor coming to tell me Henry needs me,
but it’s far too big.
I look to my right, and the world stops as I see Oliver Heath standing there. His long legs eat up the
distance between us as he advances. It’s as if I’ve conjured him from thought alone.
Why the hell is he here, of all places? James is so close I can feel the heat of his body. We’ve been in
this position so many times, with me cowering away from him, trying to es cape. But now, as I stare at
Oliver in disbelief, a wave of something new spreads through me. It’s a balm, a cooling antidote to my fear.
Oliver would never hurt me. What’s more, he would never let anyone else hurt me either.
The tension bleeds from my shoulders, and I rise up the wall back to my full height, looking James
squarely in the eye.
He seems to sense the shift in me instantly, his brow knitting in confusion. James has always been good
at reading people when his manipulations aren’t working, and he stops, glancing behind us, his eyes
widening at Oliver’s huge form.
The last time I saw James, I thought he and Oliver had similar builds. But now that I see them side by
side, I realize that assessment was woefully inaccurate. Oliver is five times the specimen that James is; in
fact, James looks positively puny beside him.
Oliver stops a few feet from us, his eyes dark and threatening as he glares at James.
“Is there a problem here?” Oliver’s de ep rumbling voice rolls over me like a prayer.
James immediately backs off, looking away and gathering himself together, the mask slipping back over
his face.
“This is a private conversation,” he says with a gentle smile, the charm coming out in full force. The
switch has been flipped.
Oliver doesn’t move, other than his eyes transferring slowly to me, flicking over my body and back up
again, as if looking for injuries.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says coolly, “but I thought Lissa looked distressed.”
The use of my first name is a red flag to a bull, and James stills, his eyes darting to me and back to
Oliver, his mouth twisted.
“How do you two know each other?” he demands, unable to ke ep the suspicion out of his voice. I glance
at Oliver, but he doesn’t jump in and answer, waiting instead for me to speak.
“This is Oliver Heath,” I say to James as he sizes Oliver up with a long, assessing look. “He’s my boss.”
James blinks, then turns to face Oliver, pivoting smoothly on his heel as his whole demeanor relaxes.
Evidently, now that he knows Oliver is a man of business, they’re on a level playing field.
“I see. I didn’t know you had gotten another job,” he says, and I can hear a familiar hint of ridicule in his
voice. “Nice to meet you, Oliver.”
Please, God, don’t let this get me fired. I don’t need Oliver knowing all my personal shit, as well as my
failings as an escort. What if he planned to fire me for trying to touch him yesterday? And now, with this on
top of everything else, he’s probably totally ready to get rid of me.
I wait with bated breath for what Oliver will say in response, fully expecting him to excuse himself and
leave. But Oliver’s eyes don’t leave James’s face for a second.
“Are you alright?” Oliver asks me quietly, and the question is so reminiscent of our time in his office
that my cheeks heat alarmingly.
That wasn’t what I expected him to say at all. Usually, James manages to charm everyone. He’s too
amiable, too good-looking; people see the package, not the contents, and assume he’s a good guy.
But Oliver is looking at James with a solid, cold glare that’s laced with pure rage.
How much of our argument did he hear? “She’s fine,” James answers for me. “We were having a private
discussion, as I said. I’m sorry if we disturbed you, but I need to speak to Lissa alone.”
Oliver doesn’t move. “I see... and how do you two know each other?” he asks, and a weight drops into
my stomach as I realize what’s about to happen.
“I’m her husband,” James spits out. Fuck, fuck, fuck. There’s a long, extended silence after those words,
and Oliver's eyes widen, flickering from James to me and back again. Then he quickly recovers, squaring
his shoulders.
“It doesn’t look as if Lissa wants you here,” he states firmly. “What the fuck has it got to do with you?”
James snaps. I stare at him. It’s rare for him to lose his composure like this. Learning of Henry’s condition
must have thrown him more off balance than I thought.
“I don’t like the way you were talking to her,” Oliver says smoothly, crossing his arms and looming over
James. “I won’t speak for her, however. Lissa, do you want this man to be here?”
“I’m her husband,” James growls at him, his back tensing, but my heart swells as he takes a tiny st ep
back. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen James look intimidated, and it’s thrilling.
I stare at him, this man who tried to destroy my life, who made me feel worthless for the whole time we
were married.
Then I look at Oliver. I barely know him, but he’s shown me more care in the time we’ve spent together
than I’ve felt in all my years with James.
James looks at me, eyes flashing a warning. It’s pure madness to enrage him like this, to goad him when
I have no means of defending myself. Oliver won’t always be here. James knows where to find me if he
wants to teach me a lesson.
But I’m so fucking tired. In that moment, I’ve never felt so exhausted. I want to be with my son without
fear, without pain. I just need to be there for Henry. Nothing else matters.
“No,” I say firmly, ke eping my eyes on James’s hateful gaze. “I don’t want him here.”
James’s eyes narrow as he scoffs in my face. He st eps forward as if he wants to back me up against the
wall again, but stops when Oliver takes a menacing st ep forward.
James laughs at me, shaking his head. “Oh, wow. Little Miss Brave now, aren’t we?” he whispers.
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyers,” James murmurs, so quietly I can barely hear him. “And they’ll make
sure I get my son, and you won’t ever be able to ke ep him from me again.”
Then he stalks past Oliver, knocking into his huge shoulder for good measure.
Oliver doesn’t move even an inch from the impact, his eyes dark and dangerous as he tracks James until
he’s out of sight.