Ceaseless Chains Copyright © 2020 xXMopelXx All Rights Reserved.

Chapter posted - July 10, 2020

Look at those aesthetics - thank you, Soph <3 Throughout the story, Tee refers to Oli as her dirty fantasy, indulgent prince and Himeros. x

PS: Oliver is 1/4 Russian, 1/4 Indian and 1/2 Canadian. 

Playlist Song: Amaal - Not What I Thought 

 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

C H A P T E R  2

Oliver

Three months in singletown, and you'd think I was living my best life.

Wrong.

Instead I was sitting by the bar, soaking wet from the evening rain, nursing a fruity non-alcoholic drink, while watching my two best friends – Trent and Cher – playing kissy-face and ass-grab with one another.

Hiding a wince, I took another sip of the drink Cher so graciously ordered for me.

It was a disgusting sweet concoction of berries and something fizzy. Cher wanted me to try it and I couldn't say no to her. Especially when her boyfriend glared me into it. He was also drinking it. So now she had two guinea pigs.

"How is it?" she beamed when I took the first swig. "Nice, eh? It's my new favorite here."

Trent was hiding his laughter behind her back. I watched him pour the contents of his drink into an empty glass and signal the bartender to take it away.

"Delicious," I lied. "I'd take this over beer any day."

"See, Trent?" She turned back to face her boyfriend, grinning with glee when she noticed he'd 'finished' his drink. "Even Oliver thinks it's good."

"So good, baby."

I flicked Trent the bird when Cher couldn't see.

On Thursdays, Danny's Grill held ladies nights, but they were only a few handful of women thanks to the shitty weather.

I surveyed the offerings: an old couple eating and drinking quietly, a flock of girls that definitely weren't a day over eighteen, some girls from Tara's sorority (and two whom I'd already hooked up with before my ex-girlfriend-almost-fiancée happened) and a group of three women no older than thirty.

One in particular caught my eye. She was cute with brown hair and a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Taking another sip of my drink, I eyed her suggestively. She caught on, holding my gaze like she knew, then arching an eyebrow as if to tell me I was full of shit.

I smirked at her. She grinned.

Then she went back to bending herself in half next to her girlfriends as they lined shots over the pool table.

Forget singletown, one straight fucking ticket to cougarville, baby.

Somewhere in the next minute, Trent excused himself to go take a leak. Suddenly, I had Cheryl's undivided attention.

"Oli," she sing-songed, reaching forward to twirl a wet lock of my hair between her fingers. She wanted me to crop my hair shorter, but I didn't want to. I liked how it looked a bit longer.

"Cher," I replied in the same manner, but my voice was flat.

"How have you been?"

I shrugged. "Okay. You?"

She smiled, but it was a sad. "You always do this, you know," she muttered. "Every time you get hurt by one girl, you try to burry your sorrow in another one."

Her words stroked a nerve and I pushed myself away. I ignored her dejected expression. "Thanks, Doctor Phil, but I came to this bar to see my best friends. Not for you to psychoanalyze me and turn me into an episode."

"It's been more than three months," she shot back. "I'm just pointing out the harsh truth; you need to talk us, Oli. We want to be here for you, but we can't unless you let us in."

"Is that why you invited me here; to get my mind off her?"

I couldn't even say Inga's name. Thankfully, Cher didn't mention the elephant in the room either.

"Partially." She bit her lip sheepishly. "We just want to see you more. Can you blame us?"

Before I could say something I didn't mean, I looked away, wrestling with my rising annoyance.

My ex-girlfriend Inga Novikov was a sore subject. I'd dated her for two years. She was exactly the kind of girl I'd seen myself marrying down the line. Or so I thought. So like a moron with my heart on my sleeve, I'd gone down on one knee – despite seeing red flags – and proposed to her one foolish morning. She started crying, babbling some shit about why we couldn't be together, and I left our place to cool off my head.

When I came back home, she'd packed her bags and ran. Inga vanished, with no trace left behind, as if she'd never even existed. No goodbye. No message. No one knew where she was, even 'til this day.

Suffice to say she left a huge X mark on my heart.

The writing on the wall was clear. Inga Novikov and I came from different worlds. I had money, but her family had entirely too much. Her politician slash businessman slash potentially mob-affiliated father, and socialite mother would never have allowed their Russian printsessa to marry an average, bi-racial, Canadian boy. Even my ¼ Russian heritage wouldn't have been enough. The rest of me was tainted, according to them. They'd never said it outright, but I felt their silent judgement.

Maybe that's where she'd run off too – Russia. I knew she'd vacated their family-owned penthouse in Vancouver.

I dodged a bullet though. That's what I told myself. After her disappearance, with a straight head, I realized things were never meant to work out between us. There were too many clues hinting that Inga kept parts of her held back, that she kept secrets from me, things that she should have shared with her boyfriend.

I guess, I was good enough to warm her bed. Fuck her sideways and in all her favorite dirty positions. But my ring on her finger? Not good enough for Daddy Novikov's girl. Two carat baguette cut, my ass.

I didn't care that Inga was gone. Not anymore. I cared that I never got answers. I cared that I never got closure because, fuck it, I devoted two years of my life making her happy, catering to every whim and mood.

This is why my hurt ran deep. This is why I avoided talking about her. I wasn't burying my sorrow in another woman. I was just moving on from Inga. I expected my friends to understand. Was it too much to ask not to talk about her? It was bad enough that I'd catch myself at the oddest moments of the day remembering her.

Unfortunately, my friends didn't see it my way.

Then I spoke, and it was low and harsh. "This wasn't just some girl. I wanted to make her my wife, Cher."

"I know, but –"

"You wouldn't know, Cher. You've done the same thing to another guy before, eh?"

My words pierced her. She looked stricken and retreated. "I-I'm sorry–"

Fuck, I was a scum. "Cher, I'm sorry. I'm angry but that's not on you. I'm...Fuck. Forgive me?"

She sucked in her bottom lip, glancing away. "No – you're right. I wouldn't know how you feel. Afterall, I did the same shit to Pierre that Inga did to you – break a heart."

Glancing away, I tried to work with the tightness in my throat.

"At least I had the decency the give him a reason." She swirled the remnants of her drink in her glass. "Your girl just left you in the dust."

Fuck. Something in my chest splintered and I ignored the pain churning inside of me.

"Now we've both said ugly things to each other." Cher gave me the full force of her baby blues. "You forgive me, too?"

"Yeah. Whatever. Water under the bridge."

Trent finally returned. Certainly, he could feel the icy temperature between me and his girl.

"What did I miss?" he asked skeptically.

"Nothing," Cher and I answered in unison.

Conversation between us strained. Either Trent didn't notice, or he chose to ignore it. I really hoped he didn't ask Cher later, because I wasn't down to get an earful for upsetting her.

That's what happened when your best friends started dating – the dynamic shifted and there was no such thing as private conversations.

Not too long after, Cher left us to go play darts with the group of sorority girls.

Trent ordered another whiskey neat, before turning to me. "Yo, are you still looking for a roommate?"

I bought a condo with Inga four months ago. Now that she was gone, I couldn't afford it on my own. Funny enough, it was her who suggested she break away from Daddy's chains and put down her roots. Before that, we lived in her penthouse, where we paid monthly rent to her father. Not even a month of owning the condo and Inga was gone. She didn't even pay her side of the down payment.

Essentially, she'd fucked me over emotionally, and financially.

Housing had always been expensive and now I was looking for someone to pay half or at least 1/3 of the monthly rent – preferably someone I could trust. I had a neat place and I didn't want to lose it.

"Yes, I am."

"I know someone who you could trust and who is in a desperate need to move on from their current situation."

I asked the bartender for a water to digest the nasty sweet drink I'd just swallowed. "Who?"

"Teagan."

"No." My answer was swift, like the hard crack of a leather belt.

Trent choked at my fierce tone. "Bro. Why the hell not?"

"You know why," I said through gritted teeth.

There was too much history there, and not a lot of it was good.

Teagan. She'd been back in the city before the new year, approximately four months ago. Two weeks before Inga left me.

Teagan and I managed to mostly avoid one another. Simply for the sole reason that we didn't know how to be near each other after all this time had trickled. It was... complicated. Of course, we'd got thrown into a few hangouts with our friends, but conversation was usually one-worded.

When I thought of that wistful expression she'd been sporting outside, my heart clenched. I'd splashed dirty rainwater with my car on that girl because, apparently, I was a blind motherfucker.

Seeing her standing in the middle of the street, looking so forlorn, was like revisiting an old chapter in my life that I'd closed. Only I hadn't moved past it completely, since she was still there, unmoving, brokenness whirling inside of her.

I hadn't known what to say to her. There was so much, yet so little that could be echoed. If this were four years ago, I would have crushed her in a hug and never let go.

Teagan, with her all-seeing, warm, deep-set brown eyes and long lashes. Teagan, with her windswept black hair, so long and luscious, and just a tad bit wet from rain drops. Teagan, with her pouty pink lips fit for a queen and glistening tan skin. Teagan, with her tall frame wrapped in dangerous curves and assets meant to bring a man to his knees. Teagan, with her emotions displayed nakedly on her face, trying to convey what her words couldn't.

But she needed to remain a closed chapter in my life. Just like Inga. Just like all the women in my past.

"Seriously, Oli. This could be great," Trent tried to convince me again. "You two know each other. Plus, it's Tee. She's reliable and a clean freak. It's perfectly fitting."

"No, Trenton."

"Weren't you two people who cared immensely for each other? I'm not one to push you into doing things, but your situation is getting desperate. Consider it. Wouldn't you be at peace knowing it's someone you actually know sharing your space, instead of a random ass stranger?"

"That's where you are mistaken," I deadpanned. "I don't know her anymore. She is a stranger to me, as far as I'm concerned."

Trent didn't argue, but his heaving frame sagged in the bar stool. Even Cher sensed the tension in our little bubble from meters away, yet she continued playing darts like nothing happened.

Before my best friend could say anything else, I got up from my seat to follow Miss Cougar, the same one who's been giving me fuck-me-eyes for the last thirty minutes.

Twenty minutes later, I finished fucking her in the restroom, banishing all thoughts of Teagan and Inga and every damn girl who I'd given a shred of my loyalty in the past.

 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ 

A/N's: It may seem like a slow start, but next chapter we're really jumping into it. What are your thoughts on Oli so far? If I'm being honest, I LOVE writing about Oli and Tee (I'm glad y'all convinced me to write a kinkier hero), they give me massive Sam and Anna vibes, but more darker and mature, if that makes sense. This story has a more mystery element to it so that's a first for me. I hope you're sincerely enjoying them so far. Leave me your thoughts. xo

Twitter: MajestyMarzy
Instagram: queenmxrzy (Mostly active here)

Chapter goal: 300? x