Page 15 of The Retreat

I flip through the button-downs, finding the perfect slate gray with a tie to match my shirt and his eyes. “Does Oliver dress you too? Because I don’t mind…”

Owen thinks entirely too hard about my offer before shaking his head and dropping his silk pants. “No. That seems like more work.” He turns around to pull on the pants I handed him.

Gods, I want to bite that ass.

He wanders into the bathroom, and I restrain myself from following. I quickly get dressed in a dark teal, custom-fitted suit and white dress shirt that I leave open at the throat. I will not be wearing a bowtie or tie to a family dinner. They’re lucky I have pants on.

Ten minutes later, he’s still not out, and I knock on the door. “We’re going to be late, and unless you want me to come up with a very colorful reason to tell our parents as to why, you better get a move on.”

Before I’m done with my cuff links, Owen is out of the bathroom, shoes in his hand and striding out of the room. The man is wearing his Oliver mask. Interesting. Does he always wear that mask around his family, or is it just because Oliver isn’t here? The dynamics of this family are so fascinating.

“The helicopter is ready,” Owen says in a tone much like he’d rather hurl himself off a building than go.

“Give me two minutes.”

“If you aren’t out here in thirty seconds, I’m leaving you here.” Owen’s tone sounds so much like Oliver it’s amusing.

“Calm your tits!” I yell back as I grab my shoes. He’s checking his watch when I slide across the floor with a smile.

“Are you a child?”

I get my shoes on while we wait for the elevator. “I should hope not, or the thoughts I have about you would be illegal in most parts of this country.”

He doesn’t rise to my bait this time, which is disappointing, but I have all night to get under his skin.

Once the elevator doors close, he starts in.

“I don’t think I should have to warn you about my parents, but they will do everything in their power to gain control over you. So it’s imperative you behave.” His eyes glint like Oliver’s, and his tone matches, making a shiver run down my spine.

I want him to use it in bed.

“Oh darling, have you met me? That’s not going to happen.” I slide my hands into my pockets, despite wanting to reach for him. “We have to sell this to them. I will be absolutely gushing about my perfect husband.” Owen gives me a look of disgust at the word choice, like I figured he would. “You have to do the same and pretend to be happy.”

He drags in a deep breath through his nose but doesn’t say anything else as we climb into the helicopter.

“You have to touch me.” I stare at the back of the seat in front of me as I say it. It’s been only a week, and I’m already itching for it. The need to touch and be touched is like breathing. I can’t survive without it. Owen has to do something or I’m going to snap.

Owen wrinkles his nose. “How?”

The poor man sounds scandalized. “I don’t mean bend me over the dinner table and fuck me in front of everyone, though I wouldn’t say no to that either.” I shrug. “But I mean, hold my hand, put your arm around me, hand on my lower back, sit next to me. Reach for me.” My throat starts to tighten. Clenching my teeth, I force myself to relax. I hate myself a little for craving that from him when this isn’t even real. “Newlyweds can’t keep their hands off each other. No one will believe that this is real if you don’t look for me when I leave the room or reach for me when I’m close.”

“Don’t leave my side or my mother will corner you.”

“You think I can’t handle her? Have you met my family?”

“You haven’t seen her like you will if she gets you alone. Oliver is the only one who’s ever handled her, and even he picks his battles.” He looks out the window for a minute. “From the second we step out of the helicopter, they’ll be watching. I hope you’re prepared.”

“I’m not Isaac. I grew up in this world. Cut my teeth on lies and betrayal and underhanded deals. My sister was promised to you as a minor, remember? It’s hardly the first time I’ve dealt with it.”

Owen gets out first when we land, throwing open the door while the blades are still spinning and shockingly offers his hand. I smile as if I can see someone watching us. The Godfreys may have cameras out here, I don’t know.

He ushers me inside, my hand on his bicep, as we descend to the floor his family lives on. Of course, they own the entire floor and have turned it into a massive penthouse.

“Are my parents here yet?”

“No idea.”

“Fantastic.”

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