Page 30 of Yield to Me

When I returned with the bottle, the two were in deep conversation. I tried not to listen, but I heard something about a merger, the east coast, and shipping. I uncorked the bottle, poured a taste, handed it to Owen, trying to concentrate on the music and wine rather than the two of them. I refused to make eye contact with Owen the entire time. Conscious of my decision, I looked at the woman and forced a smile at her. The woman seemed to see the fakeness in my face, but she returned the expression anyway, then looked at Owen.

“Would you like a glass?” Owen asked.

“No thanks. I don’t drink on the job, Boss,” I muttered, turning away.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

I finally looked at him. “I don’t think the manager would like it if I drank while serving the new owner, sir,” I said, sarcasm leaking through my words, with that same forced smile. Before he could say anything else, I left, practically charging towards the break room.

“How’s it going?” the manager asked.

I shrugged. “They’re fine.”

“He’s dreamy, isn’t he?” one of the hostesses asked. “Break me off a piece of that hunky ass.”

I rolled my eyes. “If you like the stuck up type.”

The manager gave me a questioning look, and I ignored it. Before I stepped back out onto the dining floor, he stopped me.

“He asked for your area specifically,” he said. “Do you know each other?”

“He got me the job.”

“Ah, okay. So that’s how Larry knew you. But how do you know Lowell?”

“I don’t.”

I brought them their harissa braised lamb en croute, with charred green garlic puree and fava greens. It didn’t surprise me that they had ordered the same thing. Or perhaps Owen had ordered for the woman. It was one of our most popular dishes, but I still felt spiteful at their choice, like he had ordered the same thing specifically to mess with me.

As I was walking back to the kitchen, Owen grabbed my arm. I whipped around.

“What?” I asked.

His eyes darkened, staring deep into me. “I didn’t realize I warranted such hostility.” With swift fingers, he gestured for me to follow, as if I were a soldier he was commanding. I don’t know why, but I obeyed. Maybe it was the goosebumps that covered my limbs when he demanded it or the way his order had come out as a threat. The growing heat in my sex ached in my hips as I followed him, the pressure deepening as he walked down to the wine cellar, locking the door behind us.

But I could still pout. I furrowed my eyebrows. “You can boss me around here, Owen.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “But you don’t own me. You never have.”

He looked me over slowly. Every inch of his glare seemed to light my body on fire with arousal, and I hated it, I hated the way he looked at me, the way he had hardly touched me this whole time and yet all I wanted, desperately and deeply, was to feel the weight of his body on top of me, crushing me and filling me. I could smell him then, not the earthy cologne he wore, but his masculine sweat, seeping past it, as if sensing my own primal urges.

“Is that what you think?”

“I don’t need your sympathy job because you think working in a café isn’t good enough.”

“Larry was still the owner when you took the position.”

“That doesn’t matter now though, does it? You’re the owner.” I shook my head. “I can’t even believe I have to explain why this is insulting.”

Owen stepped closer, and I could sense the short distance closing in between our bodies like a magnet. “I own the restaurant. But I won’t be running it.” I huffed, turning away from him, even though everything in my body screamed to reach out and touch him. I tucked my fingers under my arms, squeezing my ribs, so I could squeeze something. “I told you, Riley. I want to own you, but that’s only part of it. I want to possess you, to hold your need in my hands and wring every last drop, until you’re begging me, screaming for more.” He leaned down, smelling my neck. I shivered at his breath on my skin. “Something tells me you want that too.”

I sucked in a breath. He was right, but that didn’t mean I had to give in to him. I may have liked how his hands, his cane, his lips, how his tongue had worked me over until I was shuddering, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You’re full of yourself,” I hissed.

He touched my cheek with the back of his fingers, as gentle as a petal falling off of a rose. “We’re not finished,” he paused, leaning in closer to me, “I know you feel the same way.”

He kissed me, his lips coaxing me in. His tongue searched for mine, reaching out with slow caution, knowing he could scare me away at any moment, and it was as if he was slowly drowning me in a need for pleasure and pain. And when I finally gave in, letting our mouths find each other, he growled, pulling me in closer. His teeth nipped at my lip, and I could feel my knees shaking.

A plate broke upstairs. I tore away from him, thinking of everything that was happening upstairs, and the woman that was waiting for Owen. What the hell am I doing? I thought. He’s already replaced me. I was not going to be his side chick.

I shook my head and unlocked the door. “We are finished, Owen,” I said. “Go have fun with your new friend.”

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