Page 11 of It Was Always You

OWEN: What have I missed? Are you okay?

CORA: I’m at Jonathan’s for the foreseeable because some creep took a photo of me and stuck it to my door.

When he goes radio silent suddenly, I frown to myself won- dering what his problem is. Just as I debate ringing him, the elevator dings and…there, in all his glory, is a shirtless, sleep- rumpled, furious Owen.

Wipe that drool, Cora!

Muscles adorned in intricate tattoos across one half of his chest all the way over his shoulder and down to his hand capture my attention. A mixture of flowers, daggers and ruins leads to the detailed skull encased in a four-leaf clover that marks him as a Four Points man on the right side of his chest. Not to mention the freaking pierced nipple and the Adonis belt that’s sharp enough to cut a bitch.

Please let that bitch be me.

If his quirked eyebrow is any indication, I was totally caught ogling him, but sue me, that’s the least of my worries right now.

If he’s going to walk around looking like that, he can’t expect me not to look.

“What do you mean someone’s been taking photos of you? The only person who should be close enough to you to get a picture is me,” he growls.

“Hello to you, too,” I grumble.

“As much as I love your sass, please just tell me what I missed. I’m losing my mind here.” He walks over to the sofa.

“Liam thinks there’s a creep in my building who took a picture of me half naked, and Jonathan has asked me to stay here for the foreseeable.”

“Good. At least you’ll be safe here.” With that, he deflates a little and takes a seat beside me just as the ding of the lift alerts us that we have company.

I twist to look behind us just in time to see a severely out of breath and dishevelled Abbie running out of the lift. She stops in front of me, bending over, hands on her knees, gasping for breath.

“Abbie, babe, did you just run a marathon?” I joke.

“Of course, I ran the whole way here. Why didn’t you call me? Are you okay? What can I do?” Her words rush out before she even looks up, but when she does, her green eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. “Owen?”

“Hey, Abigail.” He smirks, shifting onto his hip to rest an arm on the back of the sofa behind my head and faces her. “You here to look after our girl so I can work on dealing with the fucker who did this?”

Excuse me? Our girl?

After assessing him and nodding as if they’ve just exchanged a silent conversation, she says, “I’m glad we’re on the same page,” and flanks my other side, while Owen leaves us.

Chapter 9

Since I read Cora’s text, I’ve been fighting the urge to break shit, preferably the face of the scumbag who had the audacity to take such intimate pictures of her. I storm into Jonathon’s office, cutting off his call with a glare. His reprimanding look doesn’t faze me. If he wants to continue playing businessman as if his daughter hasn’t just been violated, then that’s his choice. But it sure as hell isn’t mine. I’m shutting this shit down now, before things go south.

“I want extra surveillance on the penthouse. Restricted access. Only my inner circle unless I specify otherwise. Clear out her apartment. Put bulky things in storage. I won’t let anyone defile her space now that they’re cut off,” he snarls down the phone.

Ignoring his stern gaze, I speak. “Whatever the plan is to protect her, I want in. Put me on her security detail, let me train her in self-defence, anything.”

As he contemplates what I’ve just said, assessing me as something more than his pseudo-nephew, he nods and says, “She’s off-limits to everyone, Owen. That includes you. I can see where you’re going with this. Just know that if you do, there will be consequences.” When I don’t confirm or deny what he’s alluding to, he continues, “You’re the best person to train her. So do it. But if you make a move on her, my relationship with you or your father won’t save you, son.”

If he believes his threats will stop me, I’ll let him think just that. For now, at least. Because there’s no way in hell that things won’t be changing soon.

If I had any doubts about that, the way she eyed me up like I was a glass of water and she was stranded in the Sahara wiped them away. It was all I could do to stop myself from claiming her mouth right then and there.

* * *

“Dude, who pissed in your Cheerios?” Matt wheezes as I sucker punch him for the fifth time. I’d dragged his hungover ass out of bed under the pretence of sparring with me, but instead, I’ve been using him as my personal boxing bag for the last twenty minutes.

“He’s just got his panties in a twist that someone saw his girl’s panties before him.” Cole’s deep voice interrupts my thoughts. Before he can react, I deliver a swift uppercut, causing him to stumble back.

“You’d be wise to watch your mouth,” I snap as I peel off my boxing gloves and wraps.

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