Page 98 of Owen

“I honestly don’t know.” Through gritted teeth, Stanley admits, “But he blamed me for his bad decisions. He turned up at my house with Gideon and Richard. They threatened my family. They said they had ways of making people disappear. My wife, daughter, my son, my mother; my own flesh and blood, Owen. I was forced to make a deal.”

Holy shit.The blood pounds loudly in my ears.This is crazy.

During one of our late-night chats, Owentold me that Camilla’s husband was an importer and exporter of goods. Healso implied it was not fashion and fruit. I didn’t ask, but I can only assume it’s as dodgy as hell and they are not people you want to do business with.

As well as making bad investments, it sounds like Owen’s father surrounded himself with bad businesspeople, too; he was a bad judge on all accounts.

“So you offered him your business and your daughter to pay offhisdebt?”

“I didn’t offer them to him. He took what he wanted.”

“What else?”

“My yacht.”

Owen raises one eyebrow. “Ah, I did wonder why you sold it to him.”

“I didn’t. He took it.”

“Right.” Owen’s eyes narrow. “You can have the fucking thing back. I don’t want it.” I’m beaming with pride at Owen’s detective work. His suspicions were right all along. There was way more to him having to marry Evangeline.

“Look, I’ll be honest. I needed to speak to you for a reason. I need reassurance from you that my family is safe. The business deal didn’t go through. You didn’t marry Evangeline. Other than the yacht, I haven’t paid back the debt he burdened me with.” Stanley’s voice cracks with what sounds like fear.

Owen’s face turns dark and serious. “As far as I’m concerned, your debt is cleared.”

“Thank you.” Stanley’s shoulders slump.

I smile to myself, my body pulsing with pride at how great a man Owen is, and I wonder if he realizes how different he is to the man that raised him.

His eyes softening, Owen adds, “You are wrong about me, Stanley. I am not a coward, nor am I a liar. My parents withstood each other at best.” Owen stands and buttons his dress jacketslowly. “I couldn’t live a lie like they did. They were trapped in a loveless marriage where the only thing holding them together was greed. I was brave to run, to pull the plug on their control over me.” Owen moves out from behind the desk. “You should be thanking me, really. I saved us all. You got to keep your business. I get to marry that phenomenal woman who stood by my side today, because I choose to do that, and your daughter gets her happy ever after with someone else who doesn’t make her miserable like I would have.” He pushes his hands into his pockets. “And as a bonus, you get your yacht back. I will find the paperwork and write a letter reinstating your ownership and have it sent to you.” His tone turns sardonic. “Now, without sounding like a heartless bastard, please never speak to me again and get the fuck out of this house.”

Stanley pulls himself out of his chair. “Thank you.” His face is softer now, looking relieved. “Please be careful, Owen. Gideon and his father, they are?—”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” He tilts his chin up in defiance.

With an understanding nod, Stanley turns to leave.

I dart away from the door and carefully slide behind a large medieval knight statue. Looking up at it from behind, I wince. It’s hideous. Holding my breath as Stanley passes, I give him time to disappear.

“Motherfucker.” Owen’s voice bellows from the office, and I go to him.

He’s standing, looking out the leaded windows, like the statue I just hid behind, and I feel his protective armor in place, shielding him from any further hurt. My strong man has had to deal with so much, not just in the last two weeks, or months, but for years. My mission in life is to protect him. I don’t ever want him to feel the pain I know he’s feeling right now.

“Hi,” I murmur.

With his hands still tucked into the pockets of his dress pants, I push my fingers between the gaps and lace my arms around his waist.

Having never seen Owen in anything other than casual clothes, he looks exceptionally handsome today in his designer suit that probably cost more than my combined closet of clothing.

Not knowing anything about his previous life, I’ve been exposed to another world these past twelve days. One where how much money you have in the bank, the car you drive, the type of shoes you wear, and the portfolio of homes you have define who you are. I witnessed that again at the funeral today.

I can see why he left.

“Everything okay?” I rest my cheek against the fabric of his dress jacket.

“Yeah,” he lies, sighing heavily. I can feel him withdrawing from me, and for a second, I panic that if I can’t pull him back, I could be the one to have my heart ripped to shreds.

“With every ounce of my body, I love you, Owen.”

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