Page 29 of Taking The Virgin

Chapter11

My spirits arehigh and hopeful as I change into something a little less gray and a lot more optimistic—a yellow Diane von Furstenberg long-sleeved wool knit dress that clings to my curves. I match it with a pair of smart two-tone pumps and some gold-studded pearl earrings from a drawer in my vanity table that Owen has stocked with what must be hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of jewelry. I brush out my hair so that it rains down my shoulders andback.

When the elevator doors open onto the first floor, Owen is waiting. He’s got his wide back to me, his attention on his phone, and as he slowly turns around, I notice that he’s wearing a navy blue blazer with a button down and trousers. No formal tie tonight, no fussy full suit, but he’s still as precise as he alwaysis.

He looks up, and when he sees me, he doesn’t move. Only his gaze changes, growing more intense, as he lifts his hand and gestures toward the frontdoor.

He likes what he sees, I think, and I feel a little bit of power inthat.

We take a limo to an unknown destination—he won’t tell me where we’re going—but when we ultimately drive underground beneath a residential glass skyscraper, I’m intrigued.

I’m even more so when we arrive at an old-school movie theater, the air laced by the aroma of popcorn. Only a few other patrons mill around the lobby. The marquee announces that the venue is playing a vintage eighties movie I’ve never seen, Caddyshack.

After Owen buys me popcorn, soda, and Junior Mints then brings me to the cushiony velvet seats, I look at him and smile. He’s so massive that he barely fits into his chair, his long legs taking up the space between his seat and the ones in front ofhim.

He notices that I’m surveying him, and he raises his dark eyebrows.

I laugh. “We could’ve gone someplace more comfortable.”

His expression tells me that I’ve said the wrong thing. Does he think I’m talking about my bedroom? Is he confused that I was harping on him for using me as a sex robot earlier and now that’s what Iwant?

I try again. “What I mean is that you don’t seem to belong here—a billionaire in a run-down cinema playing a movie we could see in the theater at your place.”

The clouded questions fade from his gaze. He smiles, and—

God, his smile is devastating. It almost knocks me over with its power. It makes him into a different man, and a rush of breath-stealing warmth makes me go weak forhim.

“I use my home theater for the business guests I entertain,” he says. “I rarely screen anything there by myself. I’ve always wanted to visit someplace like this because it seems like…” His words trail off as he looks around. “A hideaway. A place where the lights go down and you can be with only the few other people who’re also enjoying what’s on the screen. No one ever knows who you are in a spot like this. A person could lose himself in here for two hours.”

And you don’t care if there’s popcorn on the floor if or thousands of other people have sat in these seats?I think. It isn’t too dirty?

Then again, it seems that he can be that way aroundme.

As if to brush off what he just said, he casually gives me the tub of popcorn, and I get the feeling Owen has just told me more about himself than maybe he’s ever told anyone.

I look around at the gilded molding, the empty balcony. Outside this theater, the city seems sleek and modern, but inside these walls, there’s a lot of warmth and characteristic details. I imagine the same possibilities for Owen, who has such a seemingly cold exterior. By bringing me here, is he trying to tell me that he’s entirely different than anyone would ever guess, where no one else can seeit?

Maybe I’m reading too much into this, and I take my cola out of the box he’s holding and transfer it to the seat’s cup holder.

“I can see what you’re saying,” I tell him. “I usually go to cineplexes, which can be impersonal. But this theater isn’t likethat.”

“No, it’s not,” hesays.

I open my mouth to ask if he has been giving me more personal information than he ever intended, but then the lights go down. In back of us, the projector’s beam eases through the air, illuminating the screen with a trailer for an upcoming showing.

I watch Owen out of the corner of my eye. His body is so big that he needs to spread out onto the armrest between us, but I don’t mind. That means he’s close to me, and I have an excuse to lean against the hardness of his arm. The innocent sensation is like nothing I’ve experienced with him before—it’s not sexual. It’s not foreplay. It’s…

It’s justnice.

And when the movie starts, it’s the first time Owen and I have laughed together.

Occasionally, I even snatch a peek at him, with the glow of the movie lighting up his usually stoic face. He’s way more relaxed tonight, and my chest tightens as I realize that he’s actually brought me here because he’s trying his best to make things up to me for the fight we had. And maybe he is even trying to show me that he’s not all thatbad.

I lean into him more, thankful for this grand gesture that must’ve been so very hard for him to make. I rest my cheek against hisarm.

He doesn’t do anything for the longest time, but eventually, he slips his arm in back of me, bringing me closer to him, in spite of the armrest between us that doesn’t move. As he gently strokes my other arm with his fingertips, an addictive feeling of lightness flows through me, and I could stay like this forever withhim.

I feel every laugh vibrate through him as we watch together. I feel that everything is bound to change when we get back to hishome.

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