Page 82 of Owen North

“What kind of hell are we talking?”

I arch my brows. “You think I’m joking?”

“I wouldn’t dare think that. Not when you’ve shown me all day how bossy you can be. I just need to know whether this hell you’re threatening is the kind of hell I’d like to experience with you or not.”

“I’ll make sure it isn’t.”

“Trust me when I tell you that I’m very open to encountering all sorts of hell with you.”

His words scorch their way into my body, at which point I decide it’s time to manage him again. It turns out that Owen takes alotof managing. “You should go. And when I see you next, please ensure there are only clean ideas racing through that brain of yours. It’s getting a little out of control in there.”

He looks suitably chastised at that and I can only hope that we course-correct in between now and the cocktail party.

Except, I’m torn.

I really love bantering with him like this.

You have ten sleeps, honey, and then you can do all the bantering you like.

I really dislike that voice of reason in my head some days.

Owen leaves to do whatever it is Julian needs him to do, and I get ready for the cocktail party. I wear a sleeveless black dress with a fishtail hem that covers my knees. It’s classy and demure, perfect for a business function. I keep my hair down. Owen does not need the distraction of my neck tonight.

Jill emails me three times and calls me twice while I’m dressing. I’ve been receiving emails from her all day while she fusses over Owen all the way from New York.

She wanted to ensure thatIensure he wears a tie at all times.

She wanted to tell me that he doesn’t eat enough during conferences. That he’s often too busy to remember food exists, and that I should make sure he eats.

She wanted to warn me that when he gets tired, he can become a little short with people. She told me not to take it personally if this happens.

Besides these things, there were a myriad of work things she wanted to remind me of for the meetings Owen’s holding.

I can’t decide if Jill thinks Owen’s a fucking idiot, or if she thinks I am.

I patiently talk with her when she calls, answering every question she has, and listening to everything she advises. Two of the men Owen’s holding meetings with tomorrow are the two she and Owen are most interested in signing as clients. Jill has some great suggestions, so I note them all down and thank her for them. I then assure her Owen is eating, wearing a tie, and sleeping. I can only hope she doesn’t go on social media and spot any photos taken after he removed the tie he started the day with. I don’t think Jill would appreciate being lied to.

I arrive at the cocktail party fifteen minutes after it started. Owen is nowhere to be seen, so I try to locate a waiter for a glass of champagne. I’m on the hunt when one of the men Owen met with today stops me.

“Charlize,” he says with a smile. “How has your day been?”

“Hi, Joss. It’s been a great day. How about you?”

I liked Joss the most out of all the people I met today. He spent a little time talking with me about his wife and the interior decorating business she runs. He also showed me photos of his sons. I liked that when I look into his eyes, I see the same kind of thing I see in Owen’s eyes: genuine care and interest in me as a human.

He tells me his highlights from the conference today and then we get into a discussion about stocks. We’ve been talking for ten minutes when I spot Owen.

He’s dressed in a tuxedo with his hair styled into that almost-messy sexy look I’ve fallen hard for.

And he’s staring at me with hungry eyes.

If his looks aren’t enough to turn me on, the way he’s watching me will do it.

He takes a step in my direction but is interrupted by a woman who wants to talk with him. She’s got her eyes all over him, and when I say all over, I mean she’s eye-fucking him. It turns out I amnotokay with this.

I forget the fact I’m talking to Joss because all I can think about now is the fact another woman is talking to my man.

My man.

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