Page 15 of Protected By the Loner
“I mean, maybe Owen Blake, brilliant, sexy man, panicked because he cares about you too much to risk screwing it up.”
I snort-laugh. That’s what women always want to believe, that it’s some easily fixable misunderstanding or that a guy has a valid reason to suddenly disappear. As if taking ten seconds to send a text is too much effort. But that possibility has been lurking in the back of my mind for three days, and I’ve dismissed it entirely. Listening to Sadie makes me rethink everything. “Even if that’s true, he still left.”
She leans forward, her expression shifting from sympathy to determination. “The question is, what are you going to do about it?”
“What can I do? Show up at his office, and what, beg him to give me another chance? Walk in there and yell at him?”
“I would say beg. Maybe you show him that whatever scared him away doesn’t have to be scary.” Her voice carries the kind of fierce affection that makes my chest tight. “You said he helped you when you needed it. Maybe now he needs help. And you said you had to make the first move to kiss him, so maybe you need to do that now.”
Do I want a man who always makes me take the lead? I pause. I may have taken the lead in kissing him first, but he sure took control after I did. “Sadie, I barely know this guy. What if I’m reading everything wrong?”
“In your heart, do you think that’s what you’re doing?”
“No,” I say quietly. “I don’t think I am.”
“Then fight for him.” Sadie’s voice is gentle but certain. “You deserve someone who fights for you, Viv. Men can be idiots, and sometimes, we have to show them how it’s done.”
“What if he rejects me again?”
“Then at least you’ll know. But what if he doesn’t?”
Tomorrow, I’m going to find Owen Blake and fight for him. The man set my soul on fire, and I’m not ready to give up.
CHAPTER 7
OWEN
The algorithm uses 2048-bit keys for initial handshake protocol, then shifts to AES-256 encryption for data transmission—”
“Owen.” The client’s voice is flat through the video call speaker. “You’ve already explained this...twice.”
I blink at the screen, my throat dry. I’ve been rambling. This is not who I am. The security diagram on my tablet is starting to blur, my own handwriting illegible.
Shit. I can’t believe my personal life, such as it was with Vivian, is affecting me this way.
“We’ll need to reschedule,” I cut myself off abruptly, heat crawling up my neck. “Apologies. I’ll send over a written report.”
The client blinks, clearly irritated but relieved to end the call. The screen goes dark.
I slump back in my chair, dragging both hands down my face. What the fuck am I doing? I never fumble like this. Work is theone place I don’t screw up. Work is safe. Work doesn’t make me ache the way Vivian does.
It’s been a week. A week since I buried myself inside her, since I heard her luscious lips moan my name. A week of avoiding Daily Brew, pretending I’m fine while my soul aches for her.
I tell myself I can’t go back. That she’s furious. Hell, she should be furious. But all I want is more—more of her, more of us, more of the fire that almost burned me alive.
The door nudges open. Zane leans in, eyebrows up. “Bro.” His gaze slides to the stack of green 16-ounce cans overflowing from my recycling waste basket. “What’s with all the Monster? I thought Daily Brew cured you.”
“Drop it.” I reach for a pen I don’t need.
He steps inside, amused. “No, seriously—” Zane gestures at my bookshelf, which is now restocked with cases of Monster. “How come you’re avoiding Daily Brew?”
“It’s none of your business.”
Zane raises an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?”
The conference room door opens before I can respond. Marcus, our newest team member, approaches me with an apologetic expression. “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone downstairs asking for you.” His voice carries a note of confusion. “Says she’s from Daily Brew? I told her you were in a meeting, but she says she’ll wait.”
My blood turns to ice. “Vivian’s here?”
