Page 31 of Owned

Anyway, since Charlotte had assured me that the ceremony would be quick, I’d decided that I wouldn’t bother taking the whole day off work. Instead, I’d taken a half day, so I’d come directly from the office still in my work clothes. Not that I cared since I’d also decided I wasn’t going to dress up for the occasion, most especially after what Charlotte had said about Mr Blackwood ‘appreciating it’.

I didn’t care about Mr. Blackwood or otherwise and in any case, this wedding was work. I’d be getting paid for it so why bother dressing up as a bride when the whole thing was fake anyway? I could have afforded to get myself a wedding gown, but I wasn’t going to spend money purely to look nice for Atlas goddamn Blackwood. I’d save it for when I got married for real.

This is for real, remember?

No. It might be legal, but it wasn’t real. Real included love and love had nothing to do with this.

I went to the front door, which opened automatically without me having to knock or press a buzzer. Clearly there must have been a camera somewhere, which I found a little creepy. Then again, Atlas was a billionaire, so it made sense he’d have cameras. They were no doubt part of some state-of-the-art security system.

I stepped through the front door, which closed automatically behind me, and into a massive open-plan space, the sun streaming down through a huge skylight in the ceiling above. The place was cavernous, with double-storied windows lining one side pouring more light through the glass, the rest of the walls left bare red brick. There were more skylights in the ceiling, bright sunlight pooling at intervals on the battered wooden floorboards polished to a satiny sheen.

Near the door was an industrial staircase that led up to a second floor, with wooden steps and an oddly graceful iron banister. Plants in huge pots were scattered around, giving the space the feel of a garden, while furniture had been grouped in different areas, marking space for different activities. A long, scrubbed wooden table with refectory benches. A huge, squashy sectional sofa covered in faded red velvet. A long galley kitchen, all steel and stone.

And a man standing in one of the pools of light near the door, positioned as if God himself had put him there.

Atlas, the gilt strands in his dark tawny hair gleaming in sunlight that also accentuated the perfect bone structure of his face. High forehead, straight nose, sharp cheekbones and all limned in gold.

He wore a black business shirt and beautifully tailored black trousers, and I realized with a sudden hard jolt, that while I hadn’t bothered to dress for the occasion, he had.

He literally took my breath away.

My head emptied and for a second all I could do was stare dumbly at him. Which was a mistake because the moment his eyes met mine, the air between us leapt, crackling with electricity. I’m sure if a naked flame had been anywhere in our vicinity, all the oxygen in the room would have ignited.

I tried to swallow, my throat a desert, my heartbeat a drum.

Apart from that one text about the contract, I hadn’t heard from him the entire week and I’d decided to go forward as if those moments in the bathroom hadn’t happened. Treat the entire episode as a mistake and not mention it, because once the wedding was done, I’d never have to see him again.

Except I knew in that moment pretending the bathroom episode hadn’t happened was going to be difficult, if not impossible. Not when his very presence reminded me so acutely of it. Not with this burning, crackling energy between us.

My gut clenched, anger winding through me at the intensity of my own response to him. That was his fault, too. He was the one who’d crossed the line in La Chouette, not me. He was the one who’d changed things between us and made this situation even worse.

Liar. You loved how he made you feel, just like you loved how you made him want…

I forced the thoughts away, struggling to pull myself together as the door shut behind me. “Is…C-Charlotte here?” I managed, hating the hesitant sound of my own voice.

“No,” Atlas said. “She won’t be here until the ceremony.”

He and I were here alone? My heart began to race even faster.

His golden stare held mine, steady and sure. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior last week.” His deep voice was very level. “I shouldn’t have laid a hand on you and I’m sorry for any distress I caused you.”

Shock momentarily eclipsed my anger. It was the very last thing I’d expected him to say and all I could do was gape at him.

“I wanted you to come early for a reason,” he continued. “First, to apologize without Charlotte listening in on our conversation. Second, to ask you once again if you’re sure that this is what you really want.”

The shock rapidly dissipated. God, not this again.

Immediately I lifted my chin. “Haven’t we had this discussion?”

“Sure,” he said. “But there’s no harm asking again.”

“Of course I’m sure.” I kept my tone flat. “That’s why I’m here.”

He didn’t speak for a long moment, staring at me with his wolf’s eyes, the expression on his face utterly unreadable. I thought he might argue, but he only nodded then held out a hand to where the sectional sofa was. “Come and sit down. I want to show you something.”

I didn’t want to sit down, but protesting seemed ridiculous, so I walked over to the sofa, the low heels of my black pumps echoing on the wooden floor boards. I sat down, bolt upright, on the very edge of the sofa cushions and put my purse on the floor. Every guard I had was up and locked. Whatever ‘thing’ he was going to show me, I was braced for it.

“Wait there,” Atlas said, then vanished up the stairs for a few minutes. When he came down again, he was carrying a garment bag and a bouquet of beautiful white peonies with the most perfect fluffy nest of petals.

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