Page 42 of Passion Restored

Owen snorted. “I can add color-coded charts to anything you want. Just ask.”

Murphy sighed. “I just might. This couple spends more time fighting with each other than me, at least, but I don’t know how well it’s all going to work out.”

Owen ran a hand through his hair, noting he needed a haircut soon. “They fight but then they look at each other after they do and you know they’re just growling at each other so they can make out later. Graham and Blake do the same thing.”

“And Maya, Jake, and Border,” Murphy added with a laugh. “Hell, you and Liz fight just the same way.”

Owen couldn’t help but smile. “And the making up part is worth it.” Usually, but he wasn’t going to get into that. He and Liz were slowly working on what they had, and he’d just bide his time until they could take things to the next level.

“Whatever you say, man. Anyway, you never answered my question. How’s the deal going?”

“Good, so far. They really liked what I had to say about our plans. Since it’s a board and not just one person, they have to make a decision as a group, so it’s taking a while.” Longer than he’d hoped, but this was the first time they’d worked with such a large group outside of their normal area of the city.

“Makes sense. Hey, Owen? I don’t know if we said it earlier, but Graham and I really appreciate you doing all of this. I know the three of us usually do this part together, but these past couple of months have been crazy. We won’t force you into this position again, though because I know you’ve been doing twice the amount of work you normally do, and that’s not exactly fair.”

Owen frowned. “We’re a unit, Murphy. If someone needs to pick up the slack, we do it. And you know I don’t mind organizing things.”

His baby brother laughed. “I know you don’t. I swear you were reorganizing my stuffed animals by size before I could walk.”

“Well, of course. They needed to be properly aligned so you could have maximum playing time.”

“You’re an idiot, but we love you. Okay, I need to get back to this project from hell. Text the rest of us when you hear any news.”

“Will do.”

They ended the call, and Owen rested his head against the headboard. He wanted to go to bed, but he had a couple of hours yet where Clive could call. He let out a breath, staring at his phone. Maybe he’d call Liz and see how she felt about phone sex before he went to bed. That was something they hadn’t tried as of yet.

As soon as he reached for his phone, however, it lit up with Clive Roland’s name on the screen. Heart racing, he picked up, doing his best to keep his voice casual.

“Hey, Clive. Good to hear from you.”

“Owen. Good, good. Well, I’m sorry to say this over the phone since that’s not how I like to do things, but you’re a young kid, so you understand. The board has decided to go in another direction that will be more cost effective for us. We know this other firm better, and since they have connections to our board, we feel like it would be the best idea. Thank you for showing us what you have, but as you know, kid, business is business, and you can’t win them all.”

Clive ended the call before Owen could even say a fucking word.

Was this really happening? Had Owen actually lost out on the job that would put the Gallaghers through to the next year? Holy hell. He’d lost it all. He’d fucking lost. To a company that had lower standards, cheaper products, and connections to the board.

His palms went clammy, and he tried to catch his breath but found he couldn’t. Sweat trickled down his back, and he forced himself to move so his feet were off the bed, pressing to the floor as if he were trying to ground himself.

He’d failed.

How was he supposed to tell his brothers that all his hard work, all the time he’d put in alone and without them had been for nothing? They’d have to find other projects to fit into the timeframe they’d laid out for this large one, and he wasn’t sure if they would be able to do it. It had been a calculated risk, but they’d all agreed to it.

They’d all agreed to it because they trusted Owen.

And he’d failed.

His phone buzzed again, and he swallowed hard before looking at the readout. Hands shaking, he answered. “Liz.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice soft. “I was calling to see how you were after your long day, but you sound like someone stole your puppy. Talk to me, baby.”

She never called him baby. How bad did he sound?

“I lost the job.” Not we. Not the company. He did. And, somehow, he had to figure out a way to make it better, but he didn’t know how.

“What the fuck is that client thinking? I’m so sorry, Owen.” He’d told her before about the project, but hadn’t mentioned names or too many details since those were under lock and key. Now, it didn’t seem important.

“I’m sorry, too.”

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