Page 60 of Owned

“I’m a possessive, jealous, controlling, and demanding fuck. All of which were my father’s more loveable attributes.”

She gave me a very steady look. “You’re some of those things, but not all of them.”

I shook my head. “You don’t know me, beauty, that’s the problem. But you’ll figure it out soon enough.” And she would. One night of being mine was one thing, but weeks, months, and maybe years would be quite another.

“Okay, fine,” she said impatiently. “But despite all of that you want to keep the baby?”

I didn’t even hesitate. “Yes. What’s mine stays mine. Besides, the kid will have you for a mom, and I’ll make sure they grow up in a better situation than I ever did.”

She looked down into her coffee cup again. “So you’ll have no part in bringing them up?”

Another question that seemed to slide under my skin, sharp as a shard of glass. “Not if you want a happy, well adjusted kid,” I said flatly. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll leave you to do the lion’s share of the?—”

“I never had a father, Atlas,” she interrupted unexpectedly. “I never had contact with him and Mom would never talk about him. He was just another man who let her down. But I can’t help wondering if life would have been different if he’d been around. If it would have been…easier.”

“It wouldn’t,” I said. “Not give Cait’s shitty taste in men, and yes, I include myself. Anyway, having no father is better than have a bad father, believe me.”

“Why? What makes you say that?”

Fuck. I didn’t want to go through all that bullshit again, and telling her to drop the subject would have been the easiest thing. Yet I found myself saying instead, “I told you what my dad did to Mom. Well, he brought me and my brother, North, up to be just like him. He was a narcissist, with no interest in anything outside of what he wanted. He liked having a pretty woman on his arm and good whisky to drink, and parties to attend. He liked being important, having everyone fawning on him, and playing sick games to get people to do what he wanted.” I gave a harsh laugh. “North and I were just participants in his court of admirers, and if you didn’t buy into his charm, he made sure you paid for it.”

Rowan’s gaze was very steady. “And you think you’re the same? That you’re a narcissist just like him?”

I was conscious of my muscles tightening, my anger beginning to simmer, though what she’d only asked me a question, not made a statement. “You tell me,” I said. “I want to own you. I want you to worship me, to make your whole world about me. I’ll likely punch anyone in the face who tries to touch you, and I’ll send Charlotte Hamilton straight to hell rather than give her what I consider mine. So what’s that if it’s not the same as Charles Blackwood?”

Rowan’s brow creased. “I don’t think that’s true. I didn’t know your father, obviously, but don’t narcissists care only about themselves? To the exclusion of everyone else? You’ve been nothing but concerned about me from the start.”

I shifted on the bed, abruptly uncomfortable for reasons I couldn’t explain. “Don’t turn me into a good guy, toy,” I said roughly, because she was wrong about that. “I was concerned about you because of my own feelings of guilt. It wasn’t to do with you, personally.”

Her head tilted, black hair falling over one shoulder, blue eyes staring at me. “Why don’t you like me thinking you’re a decent man? Wouldn’t an actual narcissist protest at being called a narcissist?”

The feeling of discomfort deepened. I couldn’t tell her what I wanted to tell her, that good men didn’t believe every word that fell out of an asshole’s mouth or thought he was a hero. Good men didn’t ignore their mother’s distress or treat her with disdain because their father told them to. Good men didn’t ruin their father’s company, and laugh when they’d found out he’d shot himself. Good men didn’t help a friend hide a murder. And good men certainly didn’t seduce a vulnerable young woman and make her their property.

There was nothing good about me. Nothing.

“Time to stop asking questions, toy,” I ordered, leaning in and taking her coffee cup out of her hands. “Time to get on your back and spread your legs for me.”

21

Rowan

Part of me wanted to do just that, because him leaning in to take my cup put his magnificently bare torso in close proximity and he smelled so good. His gaze was hot and intense, reminding me of all the filthy, dirty things he’d made me do the night before and how I wanted to do them all again.

He’d been right when he’d told me that my desperation for him got him hard, and last night he’d proved it over and over again as he’d made me worship every part of him. I’d loved it. I’d thrown away my caution and my doubts, any reticence I’d had, and dived headfirst into my desire for him. His pleasure at what I did to him made mine sharper and more acute. I couldn’t get enough of him.

But this conversation wasn’t done, no matter what he said, and I wasn’t going to let him distract me with sex. I was curious about him. The little pieces of his past that he’d given me so far had only whetted my appetite and now I was hungry for more.

He seemed very wedded to the idea of being a bad person and while I got his discomfort with his own sexual preferences — I was still coming to terms with the idea that I liked them myself — I didn’t see how that made him like his father. Charlotte had told me back at La Chouette to be careful of him, that he was a predator just like his father, and while it was true that his father did sound like a terrible person, I wasn’t sure that was true of Atlas.

Sure, he’d told me that only what he wanted mattered, yet right from the start he’d been honest about how he’d felt leaving me and Mom behind, and how it had concerned him. He’d also been concerned about me signing Charlotte’s contract. Even when he’d been pushing me, both physically and emotionally, he’d known when to pull back and offer comfort. A man who cared about no one but himself didn’t feel guilt for the way he treated others. A man who cared about no one but himself didn’t bother to give choices to someone else either.

Right from the start of this he’d been up front about what he wanted from me and first he’d tried to frighten me away and then, when that hadn’t worked, he’d made sure I knew that I could walk away from him. He hadn’t pressured me to stay with him or accept his ownership. I’d made that choice myself.

And that wasn’t even counting on all the little things he’d done for me. The wedding gown, the flowers. The rings. The bath. Breakfast in bed.

‘I am careful with my things…’

No, he wasn’t a bad man at all, regardless of the rough, blunt things he said.

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