Eve of Revelation (Sinclair Bryant 5)
The months following their first declarations of love were a quiet affirmation of everything Olivia and Sinclair dared to believe to believe about each other. That next morning Olivia anxiously laid in Sinclair’s arms, hoping he didn’t wake up with a sense of post nut clarity. But when he finally opened his eyes, he pulled her closer with a murmured “good morning, love.”
One morning, Sinclair and Olivia wandered through Borough Market, his hand resting comfortably at the small of her back. She adored how natural it all felt, as if they’d been together for years rather than months.
After lunch, they strolled through Covent Garden, Sinclair’s arm draped lazily over her shoulders. The ease of their affection surprised her. She’d been used to restraining displays of affection per David’s demand. Sinclair’s excited chatter stopped.
Natalie.
She sat outside a café, her head tilted towards a well-dressed man who looked up as Sinclair and Olivia approached. Natalie’s head turned, her perfectly styled blonde hair catching the light as her sharp blue eyes locked onto Sinclair. For a fleeting moment, her expression faltered—just enough for Olivia to notice.
“Well, Sinclair,” Natalie said, her voice dripping with forced sweetness as she stood. “This is unexpected.”
Sinclair’s posture stiffened, though his arm never left Olivia’s shoulders. “Natalie,” he said evenly, offering a polite nod.
Olivia took a second to assess the situation, noticing the flicker of tension in Sinclair’s jaw and the way Natalie’s gaze flitted between them. The man Natalie had been speaking to stood, offering a friendly smile as if to ease the awkwardness.
“And who is this?” Natalie asked, motioning towards Olivia.
Sinclair’s hand shifted slightly, drawing Olivia closer. “This is Olivia.” His voice softened as he said her name, and Olivia gave Natalie a polite smile.
Natalie’s eyes narrowed just a fraction before her lips curved into something that could almost be called a smile. “Olivia,” she repeated, as if testing the name on her tongue. “Well, you’ve got your hands full with this one, don’t you?”
Olivia raised an eyebrow but kept her expression neutral. “Not too full.”
Natalie’s laugh was light but brittle. She turned her attention back to Sinclair. “Poor dear. He must talk your ear off. Did he tell you about the time he spent forty-five minutes trying to explain cricket to my parents?”
Olivia chuckled, her response as smooth as silk. “I think it’s sweet how passionate he is about the things he loves.”
Natalie blinked, clearly thrown off by her view. “Well,” she glanced towards her companion, “I’d hate to keep you two. Busy day ahead, I’m sure.”
“Very,” Sinclair replied.
“Enjoy yourselves,” Natalie added, though her tone suggested anything but well-wishes. With a final glance at Olivia, she turned back to her date, her posture stiff.
As they walked away, Sinclair exhaled slowly, his grip on Olivia tightening slightly. “Sorry about that.”
Olivia glanced up at him, her eyes soft. “Don’t be. She’s...” She hesitated, then added with a teasing smile, “I think I handled myself pretty well.”
Sinclair’s lips quirked upward. “Brilliant.”
They continued their walk, the moment with Natalie already fading into the background. But the ghosts lingering from his past whispered in Olivia’s mind. What had this woman done to him?
As they strolled through the bustling streets of London, Olivia glanced up at Sinclair, her curiosity getting the better of her. “So,” she began casually, “why did Natalie look so…unsettled? She got some skeletons in her closet?”
Sinclair faltered, his steps slowing slightly. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, Olivia thought he wouldn’t answer. Finally, he murmured, “in a manner of speaking.”
Olivia stopped walking, tugging lightly on his hand. “Sinclair,” she implored softly, her gaze searching his.
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s sit,” he said, gesturing to a nearby bench tucked beneath the shade of a leafy tree. They settled side by side as Sinclair stared at his hands for a moment, gathering his thoughts.
“I’ve avoided telling you,” he began, his voice low and measured. “because…I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”
Olivia’s brows furrowed, concern flashing across her face. What on earth could this golden retriever of a man do that was so wrong?
Sinclair sighed, finally meeting her gaze. “Natalie cheated on me.”
Olivia blinked, her grip tightening on his hand. “Oh,” she said, processing the revelation.
“But it’s more complicated than that,” Sinclair added, his voice tinged with bitterness. “She cheated on me…with her brother.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and strange. Olivia’s lips parted slightly, but her mind blanked. She absorbed the information, her expression shifting as she worked through it.
Sinclair’s voice softened. “Her half-brother, technically. They didn’t grow up together. Not that it makes it any less…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “That was something I couldn’t forgive. I could’ve told people, could’ve exposed what happened, but…I didn’t. For her sake. For her family’s sake. It felt like the right thing to do.”
Olivia’s silence stretched on. Finally, her mind and mouth worked together. “She cheated,” she repeated, as if the rest of it hadn’t fully registered yet. “How could she do that to you of all people?”
Sinclair blinked, caught off guard. “Well yes. With her brother,” he repeated, unsure if she’d grasped the full weight of it.
“Yeah, I got that,” Olivia shook her head. “After everything you’ve told me about how you treated her, bent over backward to make her happy…she still looked elsewhere?”
Sinclair tilted his head. “That’s what bothers you?”
“It all bothers me,” Olivia clarified, waving her hand. “You didn’t deserve that, Sinclair.” She paused, her lips pressing into a thin line. “And you still protected her. You’re a better person than most. Me certainly. I’d be sickened to the core.”
Her words struck something deep within him, and his chest tightened. “I wasn’t perfect,” he admitted quietly. “I’m sure I could’ve done things differently.”
Olivia reached out, placing a hand on his cheek. “That’s her problem, not yours.”
“I spent many months in therapy coming to terms with it. How do you have those feelings for…a sibling? I believed to cross that line meant something was inherently wrong with me.”
“No, Sinclair.” Olivia wrapped her arm around his broad shoulder. “You made it through still kind, still caring, still you.”
Sinclair turned his face into her palm, closing his eyes for a moment. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
The moment was quiet, grounding, and when they finally stood to continue their day, it felt like they’d crossed a threshold together—one where Sinclair’s past no longer cast a shadow over their future.
Hers however remained to be seen.
Sinclair respected Olivia’s career more than anything—it was part of what made her, well, her. So, when she’d told him she’d be out of contact for a week on a training exercise, he hadn’t questioned it. He smiled, nodded, and reassured her that he understood, even though her absence left a quiet, hollow feeling in his heart. He kept busy, throwing himself into work, but small reminders of her—like the pair of aviator sunglasses she’d forgotten on his kitchen counter—made him smile.
By the time the week ended, Sinclair planned the perfect evening to welcome her back. A dinner reservation at her favorite Mediterranean spot. But before that? He had no intention of letting her go anywhere before they spent a few moments reacquainting themselves.
When Olivia finally arrived at his apartment, looking tired but glowing with accomplishment, Sinclair wasted no time pulling her into his arms. Their laughter echoed off the walls as they tumbled onto his bed in a tangle of limbs and stolen kisses. The training exercise had been demanding, but she clearly had energy to spare.
Later, as she applied her makeup and debated which shoes to wear for their dinner, Sinclair leaned in the doorway, grinning like a fool. “You’ve got five more minutes, Captain, or we’re going in our pajamas.”
Olivia laughed, swatting at him. “You would. But I’m worth the wait.”
“You are,” he agreed warmly, walking over to press a kiss to her temple. “Usually, I’m the reason for our missed reservations.”
They’d just locked the door behind them when her phone buzzed in her clutch. Olivia pulled it out and frowned at the screen. The name David lit up the display. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she quickly silenced the call.
Sinclair raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah,” Olivia slipped the phone back into her bag with indifference. “It’s nothing.”
But when the phone rang again, Sinclair’s gaze sharpened, and a flicker of unease passed between them. “Same ‘nothing’ calling twice?”
Olivia sighed, irritation flashing across her face. “Just somebody who doesn’t understand boundaries.”
“Your ex-husband?” Sinclair asked sympathetically, rubbing light circles on her back.
She nodded, leaning into his lanky frame. “Yeah. I don’t know what he wants, but whatever it is, I’m not interested.”
Sinclair’s hand stopped on her lower back, grounding her. “We’re about to have a great night.”
Her smile returned. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
The restaurant was perfect—a cozy Mediterranean spot tucked into a quiet corner of the city. Sinclair’s heart stuttered at the sight of her black dress hugging her figure in just the right way. He didn’t miss the admiring gazes of other men. For her part, she seemed relaxed now, the tension from earlier melting away with every shared laugh and plate passed between them.
“You’ve got good taste,” she moaned after her first bite, pointing her fork at him.
“I’d like to think so,” he smiled. “After all, I’m sitting across from you.”
Olivia chuckled, shaking her head. “That was cheesy.”
“But effective.”
As the evening wore on, the conversation flowed easily. They talked about her training exercise—what she could share, anyway—and Sinclair regaled her with a story about a particularly eccentric client.
By the time dessert arrived, a shared plate of baklava, Olivia looked completely at ease. “This was perfect,” she said softly, resting her chin in her hand as she gazed at him.
But in the back of Sinclair’s mind, a seed of unease had been planted. What did David want?
The cool night air wrapped around them as they strolled along the quiet street, Olivia’s arm tucked comfortably through Sinclair’s. The moon hung low, casting its silvery glow over the city, but Sinclair’s mind was partially elsewhere.
After a long pause, he broke the silence, his voice gentle. “You’ve never really told me much about David. What was he like?”
Olivia glanced at him, her lips pressing into a thin line before she exhaled slowly. “David was…a lot of things. Cocky. Muscle-headed. The kind of guy who never had time for books or anything that didn’t get him ahead.”
Sinclair quirked an eyebrow, his tone light. “Sounds like Gaston.”
That earned him a chuckle, though it was tinged with a hint of bitterness. “Yeah, maybe. Except Gaston probably didn’t have near David’s drinking problem.”
Sinclair frowned, the humor slipping from his expression. “He drank?”
“A lot,” Olivia admitted, her gaze fixed on the path ahead. “And when he did, he got mean. Not in public—never in public. But behind closed doors…” She hesitated, her steps slowing.
Sinclair stopped with her, searching her face. “Did he ever…hurt you?” His voice was low, careful, but there was an edge of protectiveness that made Olivia’s chest tighten.
She shook her head quickly, though her hand tightened slightly on his arm. “No. Never physically. But he…lashed out. Said things. Hurtful things.” She looked down, her voice growing quieter. “I know some people might call that abuse, but… I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right to call it that.”
In Sinclair’s mind, there was no doubt about it. Abuse was exactly what it was. But he wasn’t going to argue terminology, sensing her discomfort. Instead, he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“Liv,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto hers, “that’s not okay. None of it. You didn’t deserve that.”
She swallowed hard, nodding faintly. “I know. And in the end, I couldn’t keep letting it drag me down. I realized I had to make a choice—to stay and lose myself, or leave and find a way back to who I was. So…I left.”
Sinclair’s heart ached at the thought of her enduring such an unhappy home, but there was also a flicker of pride—pride in her strength, in her resilience. He cupped her cheek gently, his voice steady and full of conviction.
“I can’t fathom how anyone could do that to a person,” he whispered, his eyes earnest. “Least of all, you. I swear you’ll never have to worry about that from me.You’re incredible.”
Her eyes shimmered as she smiled softly, leaning into his touch. “I know, Sinclair. I’m a lucky gal.”
And there it was, the final ghost of Olivia’s past laid bare. And as Sinclair held her close, he felt an even deeper resolve to be the kind of man she deserved—someone who would lift her up, never tear her down.
“Let’s go home,” he murmured into her hair. “Your place or mine?”
“Mine please.” Olivia smiled up at him, yawning. “I got an early meeting then I’m all yours. There’s a pantry of snacks to entertain you.”
The car slowed as they approached the gate, the bright floodlights casting stark shadows across the interior. Sinclair rolled down his window, offering a polite nod to the guard as he handed over their ID’s.
While the guard checked her credentials, Olivia’s phone buzzed in the cupholder. Both glanced at the screen, and Sinclair caught the name: David.
Her jaw tightened. She grabbed the phone, silencing it with a quick swipe.
“Persistent, isn’t he?” Sinclair said lightly, though his eyes betrayed his concern.
“Understatement,” Olivia muttered, exhaling sharply.
The guard handed back their ID’s with a smile and waved them through. Sinclair navigated forward, the hum of the car the only sound as Olivia stared at the darkened screen.
Then it buzzed again.
She answered, putting the phone to her ear. “David, what do you want?”
The response was instant, loud enough for Sinclair to catch snippets of David’s ranting.
“You think you can just ignore me, Olivia? Pretend I don’t exist?”
Olivia’s grip on the phone tightened. “What I think, David, is that I’ve told you leave me the fuck alone.”
“You don’t get to walk away from me like this,” David snapped. “You’re a mess without me, and you damn well know it.”
“Stop,” Olivia hissed, her voice firm but trembling at the edges. “I’ve moved on and don’t owe you a fucking thing.”
Sinclair’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening as he listened.
David’s sneer was practically audible. “Oh, this is great. You’re seeing somebody, aren’t you? Bet he loves your whole woe is me act. Poor you, Olivia, moving on so fast.”
“Stop it, David,” Olivia warned, anger flaring in her tone.”
“Or what?” David taunted, his voice dripping with venom. “You gonna cry about it to your little boyfriend? He doesn’t know who you really are. Worthless cun—”
“That’s enough.” Sinclair pulled the car to a stop in an empty lot near Olivia’s townhome and plucked the phone from her hand. “David, is it?” His voice was calm, measured, but there was no mistaking the edge of steel beneath it.
There was a pause on the other end before David barked a laugh. “Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m the little boyfriend you mentioned,” Sinclair replied coolly. “And the man who’s telling you to stop contacting Olivia. Permanently.”
“You think you scare me? You’re nothing. She’s nothing. And if you think this is over—”
Sinclair interrupted, his tone more venomous that Olivia thought possible. “It is over. You will not contact her again.”
David’s response was a snarl. “Too late. I’m already here. Standing outside her door. Wanna handle it like men?”
“No, I have a better solution,” Sinclair ended the call, exhaling before he pulled his phone from his pocket.
“John,” he said when the line connected, his voice steady despite the threat. “You have a trespasser on base who means harm. Outside Olivia’s door. I need you to handle this, now.”
As John assured him he’d take care of it, Sinclair turned to Olivia, his hand finding hers. “We’ll sort this,” he said softly, his eyes locking with hers. “You’re safe. I promise.”
Fifteen minutes later, Sinclair pulled up, his hand hovering protectively at her lower back as he escorted her to the door. The scene outside was chaotic—blue and red lights from military police vehicles bathed the street in a pulsating glow. David was being shoved into the back of one of the vehicles, his hands cuffed behind him. His face was twisted in a snarl as he hurled obscenities.
Standing a few feet away, Khan leaned casually against his truck, dabbing at a busted lip with the sleeve of his jacket. Despite the injury, his grin was as broad as ever. Next to him stood Major Prescott, clipboard in hand, scribbling notes while nodding at the military police officers.
Sinclair’s eyes flicked to Khan as he spoke to one of the officers, his tone light, almost jovial, as if this were just another day on base.
“Sir,” Major Prescott greeted Sinclair as he approached, preparing to rebuff him. His stern expression softened when he glanced at Olivia, who looked utterly deflated beside Sinclair. “We’ll get with legal tomorrow to secure a restraining order. David’ll enjoy His Majesty’s hospitality for the night then be dealt with.”
Olivia stepped forward, her voice shaking slightly. “I’m so sorry for all of this, Major. I didn’t mean to cause such a scene.”
Major Prescott held up a hand, cutting her off. “Not your fault. Let’s be clear about that.” He glanced toward the police car. “And judging by what I’ve seen tonight, he’s earned himself quite a few charges—stalking, trespassing, and assault among them.”
Khan let out a low chuckle, drawing their attention. “Happy to be of service, ma’am,” he said with a playful salute toward Olivia. His grin widened as he tapped his bloodied lip. “I’ve wanted an excuse to hit him for years.”
Sinclair couldn’t help but smirk at Khan’s attitude, though his focus quickly shifted back to Olivia, who looked ready to sink into the pavement.
“Let’s get you inside,” Sinclair murmured, guiding her back toward the house. Once inside, Sinclair settled Olivia on the couch, draping a blanket over her shoulders.
This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to end. He’d envisioned candlelight and laughter. But instead, the night had unraveled into an exorcism of sorts—a confrontation with demons neither of them had summoned, yet had somehow managed to vanquish together. As he leaned back, his eyes catching the faint glow of the streetlights outside, Sinclair realized he couldn’t see a future without her.
He needed to buy a ring.