With a twinge of childish satisfaction, I note that the receptionist is now staring in shock at Brad instead of me. Then I’m filled with shame at my pettiness. This is what Brad reduces me to. One minute in his presence, and I’ve stooped to his level. As if the years since our breakup never happened.

At my derisive noise, Brad pulls his features back into haughty coolness, under the cover of straightening his tie. I remember—all too well—his insecure need to maintain control at all times, even if it’s only the appearance of control.

“You might want to be a lot more careful about how you speak to me, Olivia.”

The obvious threat spooks me a little. But I can’t let him know how much his venomous voice still affects me. I force a laugh, knowing that will drive him ape-shit.

“Or what? You’ll bore me to death?”

To my surprise, his smirk doesn’t slip an inch. “Trust me. It’s in your best interests to cooperate with my company.”

Does he actually have something up his sleeve? On the one hand, I don’t want to get drawn into his mind games. On the other . . . my curiosity is piqued.

But before I can decide whether to venture a question, the front door opens and Noah comes in. He stops midstride, looking back and forth between us, obviously sensing something rotten in the air.

“What’s going on here?” he demands.

“Nothing,” Brad replies before I can explain anything, his tone light and his smile polite. “Just talking shop.”

“Oh, really? Is that why I could hear a man yelling all the way from the elevator?”

Brad’s smile instantly drops. “Who are you?” he asks, as if Noah were the one intruding.

“I’m Noah Tate. Olivia’s fiancé and co-CEO. Now, who the hell are you?”

I mentally roll my eyes a little at Noah’s lack of subtlety. Especially the way he said fiancé instead of boyfriend. But mostly, I’m just relieved to have some backup, no matter how silly his testosterone-fueled territorial display is.

Brad stares Noah down for a moment, obviously not wanting to roll over and acknowledge his authority too fast. Finally, he replies, “Bradford Daniels. Vice president of Daniels Multimedia Enterprises.”

“And he was just leaving,” I interrupt.

I see a muscle twitch in Brad’s jaw, but he continues talking to Noah as if I never said a word.

“I’ve heard of you, Noah. The late Bill Tate’s son. You two seem to have hooked up right before news of Tate & Cane’s . . . difficulties got out.”

Noah’s next words echo my thoughts. “Are you implying something?”

“Not at all. Just commenting on a stroke of bad luck.” Brad drops his voice to a conspiratorial mutter—although it’s certainly not low enough to stop me from hearing every insult. “In more ways than one. Between you and me, my friend, I don’t envy you. She’s about as exciting as a wet towel in bed.”

Noah’s eyes fly open wide and his face flushes crimson. Instinctively I shy back; I’ve never seen him so angry.

Mistaking his fury for astonishment, Brad continues. “Oh, you haven’t found that out yet? But maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. She’s always been such a frigid—”

In a flash, Noah has Brad pinned to the wall, his arm twisted behind his back. And all I can do is gape, paralyzed with shock.

Chapter Seventeen

Noah

This is the douche who broke Olivia’s heart in college? Without thinking, I jump into action, twisting the prick’s arm behind his back and slamming him into the wall.

He lets out a helpless grunt and huffs, “What the hell? Did you not hear who I am?”

“I know exactly who you are. You’re the pencil-dick Olivia invested years in, only to discover what a selfish child you really are.”

He tugs against the hold I have on him. Nope, you’re not going anywhere, bud.

“Now apologize to her, with a promise that you’ll never say anything like that again, and I’ll think about letting you go.”

“Like hell,” he growls.

“Rosita,” I call out. She’s passing by with her cart filled with deliveries. “Call security.” She nods once and scurries away. I twist Bradford’s arm tighter, higher up behind his back, then lean in good and close. “I said apologize.”

He blows out a deep sigh, his voice taut with pain. “I’m sorry, all right?”

When Olivia turns up her nose, I shake my head at the poor schmuck. “You should know better than to fuck with such a powerful woman.”

Two uniformed security guards appear in an instant. “Remove this asshole from the property,” I tell them.

They flank Bradford and escort him back to the elevator. I brace myself for another insult hurled over his shoulder; there’s no way he’s going down without a fight.

Right on cue, Bradford turns to face us before entering the elevator. “When I own this company, I’ll be the one calling the shots, and neither of you will ever work in this town again,” he shouts, spitting the words like venom.

I straighten my posture and pull Olivia in close to my side. “You won’t be coming into my building and insulting my girl like that ever again. Get him out of here before I permanently remove his option of ever having children.”

Moments later, the elevator doors slide closed, and Olivia sags against my side in relief.

“Are you okay?” I turn to face her, running my hands in a soothing motion up and down her arms.