“Look,” he sighed deeply, once again searching for the right words. “I understand your reservations. Well, mostly. But… I’m not giving up. I want you, and someday I’m going to have you. If you’re not ready yet, that’s okay. I’ll wait.” Lena's eyes widened in shock as she evaluated the sincerity in his expression.
“That’s insane. It could be years.”
“Then I’ll wait years,” Owen said honestly, squeezing her hands as he looked her straight in the eye. “I’ve already waited years to feel like this about another human being. My whole life, really. What’s a few more? You’re worth the wait, Lena.”
“I’m not,” she argued sadly. He frowned and moved to frame her face with his hands.
“You don’t see yourself clearly at all. You’re well worth waiting for, and I’ll prove it to you. I’ll wait for you until you’re ready. In the meantime, we can keep going as we are, or we can just be friends without the sex, if you’d prefer that. But I want to be a part of your life, and I want you to be a part of mine.”
Lena gazed back at him in astonishment at the confidence in his voice, and she had no idea how to respond. I should ask him to leave, she thought. I should tell him that I’m broken and don’t deserve to be happy. I should tell him that I shouldn’t even be alive… But she couldn’t make the words come out.
“Do you really mean that? You’ll wait?” she asked in a small voice. Owen’s emerald eyes were intense as he nodded, and he’d never been more certain of anything.
“As long as it takes.”
Chapter 15
Thursday
Lena spent the next two days in a state of prolonged distraction. Owen crept into her thoughts at the oddest moments: sitting in class, working at GC, in the car, in the shower, in bed… She’d replayed Tuesday evening’s conversation in her mind a thousand times, and she wished it were possible to simply pretend it had never happened. What had stunned her more than anything he’d said that night was that he was willing to wait for her to be ready for a relationship, and her instinctual response to that statement was… why?
Owen had vowed to wait years if that was what she needed. Lena couldn’t even begin to wrap her mind around the concept. What would her life even look like in the course of those years? She still had two more years of college ahead of her, and she knew she was slated to go straight to work at GC after she graduated. Would her life really slow down at all when that happened, or would it become even more hectic? Lena couldn’t imagine that working under her father would be any less stressful than having him micromanage her education. What then? How many years until she could do something for herself? Would she ever get to that point? She didn’t know if it would be better to try to convince him to move on or to simply let him wait. Would it be cruel or merciful to push him away so that he could find someone who deserved him?
“I want to know you better. I want to be the person you come to when you’re sad or lonely or stressed... I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine.”
As much as Lena might have wished otherwise, she knew in her heart that she wanted those things too. Her mind kept getting caught on the idea of belonging to him. While her first instinct was to shy away from the prospect of being accountable to someone new, the more she considered it, the less terrifying it sounded. When she tried to imagine what being his might be like, she felt… safe. The way Owen had described it had made it sound as though it would be mutual, that they would take care of each other, and that hadn’t sounded so bad at all.
She’d been avoiding Owen since Tuesday evening, which was easy enough to do when they were apart but quite a bit more difficult when he was sitting next to her in class. Lena made an excuse for skipping their usual lunch plans for the second time that week and ended up hiding out in a quiet corner of the business library instead. Her homework was spread out on the table in front of her, but her mind was a thousand miles away.
He’d said that he was falling in love with her, which understandably led her to consider her own feelings. Was she in love with him? Lena’s immediate thought was no. She couldn’t be. She didn’t know him well enough to be in love with him. Sure, she enjoyed Owen’s company, and he was easy to talk to. And the sex was certainly phenomenal… but did they really know each other?
Lena’s thoughts shifted to the scars on his lower back. They were strange, each of them relatively thin and roughly two to four inches long. There was no discernible pattern, and some of them overlapped each other. It was the only place on his body that he didn’t want to be touched, so she had to assume that they were a result of some sort of abuse. She’d deduced that his parents probably weren’t good people, especially since the Langfords had basically taken him in as a teenager and even let him take their name. Owen didn’t call them his parents though, so Lena doubted that he’d actually been adopted by them.
Almost as intriguing as his scars was the unfinished tattoo on his back. It was merely a black outline of a tribal bird whose wings spanned his shoulder blades. When she’d asked him about it, Owen had become a bit guarded, explaining that he just hadn’t gotten around to having it finished yet. Lena had let the subject drop, but she had always wondered why someone who didn’t like to have his back touched would go through the ordeal of letting a stranger put a tattoo there. It didn’t make sense to her.
She realized with a small degree of guilt that Owen had been at least a little more forthcoming with his past than she’d been with hers. He didn’t really know her either, though she acknowledged that that wasn’t necessarily his fault. Sure, he paid attention to little things like her class schedule and the foods she enjoyed, but did he really know her?
Did anyone?
Later that evening as Lena sat in her living room laying the foundation of her research project, she was interrupted by a knock on her door. She assumed that it was Tessa or Mateo and didn’t bother to check the peephole before opening the door.
“I’m sure you have things to do, so I won’t stay, but…” Owen held up a to-go bag from her favorite Italian diner. “I know you skipped lunch. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t skip dinner as well.”
Lena blinked in surprise and tried to find the nerve to refuse the offering, but her resolve was lacking. She couldn’t bring herself to be rude to Owen, even though it probably would’ve been better for him in the long run. She gave him a somewhat sheepish half-smile and took the plastic bag from his hands. It smelled divine, and her stomach growled audibly. Owen returned her smile with one of his own, and she was grateful to see no trace of gloating or smugness in it.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“You’re welcome.”
Okay, now he’s looking a little smug.
“So, dinner at your dad’s tomorrow,” he reminded her. Fuck, she cursed inwardly. Because things aren’t awkward enough. “I thought maybe we could carpool again if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure.” Why the hell not? There didn’t seem to be much point in trying to pretend he didn’t exist. Clearly, he wasn’t planning to back off.
“Great.” The smile that graced his handsome face was almost blinding, and Lena couldn’t help but smile back. “Goodnight, then.”
“Night,” she replied, shaking her head as she closed the door.
He’d ordered her favorite pasta, and Lena inhaled its aroma appreciatively. She remembered what he’d said, the first time they’d really had a conversation, about hating the thought of anyone going hungry. That sentiment had certainly held true in the past two months. Owen was forever asking whether she was hungry or reminding her to eat. At first it had seemed strange, but now it just felt like part of who he was. He was a caretaker by nature.
Once she was settled at the table with her food, Lena forced herself to buckle down. The laptop from GC was open next to her, and when she logged onto the secured VPN, she immediately noticed the changes that had been made to her employee account. Wes had more or less aligned her permissions with Nate’s in terms of access, th
ough she didn’t have the rights to make changes to certain documents. That suited her perfectly well since she was really only borrowing the numerical data. Lena intended to give the companies false names for her project so that no one’s privacy was compromised.
As she worked, her thoughts drifted to the conversation she’d had with Gina, the Accounting supervisor, and something about the way she’d phrased her warning about the CFO had seemed… off. Ironically enough, the very same professor who had assigned this research project had also recently covered a unit on corporate theft. One of the topics had been warning signs that might indicate embezzlement, and overprotectiveness of a specific area of business had been near the top of the list. On a whim, Lena navigated over to the master list of contractors and subsidiaries and sorted it by employee contact. She scrolled down the alphabetized list until she reached the name Jeffrey Phelps and tilted her head speculatively at the six accounts that he was personally overseeing.
Two of the accounts were clearly labeled as government contracts, which came as no surprise to her. Phelps had been the one to boost GC’s involvement with military aircraft component production when he’d come aboard three years ago. The other four accounts were civilian in nature, but only one of those could be considered large enough to warrant personal attention from the CFO. The remaining three accounts were relatively small by comparison, and Lena clicked on the first of them.
At first glance, there was nothing out of the ordinary, but something led her to investigate a little further. When she attempted to access one of the files, the system prompted her to re-enter her credentials, which Lena found to be somewhat odd. She’d been poking around in the financial reports of several other companies so far that evening, and this was the first time she’d encountered the extra security measure. To her surprise, several of the files under Phelps’ smaller accounts were completely locked down.
What the hell?
She tried again, typing her login information more carefully, only to be denied access once more. According to its title, the file Lena was attempting to access was a preliminary budget for the next fiscal year, and she couldn’t think of a logical reason why Phelps would have it password protected. She tried the rest of the files under that account and found that a few were accessible, but most of the others were locked down as well.
It didn’t make sense. Her project temporarily forgotten, Lena went through the other two small accounts and encountered similar roadblocks. From what little information she could access about the accounts, she could see that two of them were tied to foreign-based companies. That wasn’t all that strange, in and of itself, but these were accounts payable rather than receivable. Why was the CFO concerning himself with money owed by GC to a couple of foreign companies?
Unfortunately, the security measures Phelps had put in place prevented Lena from seeing much else. She couldn’t see individual transactions or the nature of the products sold or services rendered to GC. There did seem to be money going out, but there was no way to find out the details of those transactions.
Lena sat back in her chair and gazed at the screen, feeling an odd prickling sensation on the back of her neck. She’d never been a fan of Jeff Phelps. He’d always struck her as a bit of a creep, but the man did seem to genuinely care about Nate. She wouldn’t have considered him to be a threat to the company, but something certainly felt off about the whole situation.
She sighed and tried to look at it from another angle. Maybe Wes hadn’t set her permissions accurately. That would be the most likely explanation, she supposed. Simple human error. Maybe the lockdown hadn’t been intentional. Granted, it would’ve been difficult for anyone to set up those protocols without realizing it, but was it impossible? Unfortunately, Lena didn’t know enough about the technicalities of that particular program to say for sure one way or another, and she wasn’t certain that it was something she should even bring up with someone in IT. Would Phelps be able to tell that she’d been attempting to access his protected files? Again, she couldn’t be sure.
I guess if he can, he’ll probably say something about it tomorrow night, she reasoned nervously.
Lena knew that the most logical course of action would be to go to her father with the information, but she also knew that she had to tread carefully. Nate trusted Phelps implicitly, and he was a man who stood up for his friends. If she was really going to make any sort of accusation, it would have to be backed up with irrefutable evidence. The most obvious solution would be an audit, but she was fairly certain that internal audits at GC were overseen by its CFO… Phelps. Convenient, Lena thought wryly.
Her troubled musings continued long after she’d closed the laptop and crawled into bed that night. She decided to wait for the right opportunity to bring it up with her father. He’d raised her to trust her instincts, after all.
She only hoped he would be able to listen without bias.
Friday
Owen arrived at Lena’s apartment a little earlier than necessary the following evening, and he waited patiently in the living room while she finished getting ready. He gazed around the room, attempting - not for the first time - to glean some information from its contents about the woman who lived there. While the style of decor could not be considered ‘minimalist,’ it was clear that Lena preferred to avoid unnecessary clutter. Everything seemed to have a designated place, from the carefully arranged throw pillows to the compulsively organized DVD collection.
There were a handful of trinkets displayed around the room, but there were very few photographs and almost none of Lena herself. Owen found that to be a bit odd, particularly when he recalled the last time he’d been in Julia’s room. It was practically wallpapered with photographs of her and her friends, and he wondered if perhaps the six-year age difference was the explanation. There was a photo of Nate shaking the hand of a previous Seattle mayor in front of a wall displaying the GC logo, and Owen guessed it to be four or five years old. Another photograph depicted a young woman with auburn hair and a sweet smile, and something about it sent a chill through his extremities. Her eyes were green, but he could tell from the shape of her nose and jawline that she was most likely Lena’s mother. It was an older photo, but he couldn’t be certain of how old. The only thing Lena had ever told him about her mother was that she had died when Lena was very young.
The only picture in the room that actually included Lena was a framed snapshot of her as a teenager, standing next to a tall, dark-haired man in an Army uniform. This, he deduced, must’ve been Logan James. Owen scowled at the photograph as he examined it. Good-looking fucker, he thought irritably. The guy was broad-shouldered and muscular, and although Lena looked to be fifteen or so in the picture, he towered over her like a giant. Owen snorted in spite of himself as he recalled the nickname he’d overheard Logan use. Pipsqueak, indeed.
“Okay, I’m ready. Sorry for the wait.”
He turned toward the sound of Lena’s voice and did a double take when he registered the change in her appearance. Her trademark bohemian flair was completely absent, replaced by a well-tailored gray dress with a modest neckline. It hugged her figure provocatively from top to bottom, showing off the curves that her flowy tops and skirts often concealed. Lena’s hair was swept into a half-up style, and the smooth, straightened length of it fell down the center of her back like a cape of red satin. Her sexy feet were encased in black four-inch heels, and she moved about the room in them with confidence. Owen noted that there wasn’t such a remarkable difference in their heights now, and he recalled the photograph of Lena next to her burly friend, wondering idly if she looked as small when she stood next to him on flat feet.
She was stunning that evening, as always, but Owen wasn’t certain how he felt about the change. She looked older and more mature, but there was less of the softness and warmth he’d come to love about her. He wondered at the reason for the change, remembering that she’d dressed in her usual fashion for dinner with Nate the previous Sunday. He supposed that since t
onight had been billed as a ‘business dinner,’ it wasn’t all that strange that she’d opted for business attire. He’d done the same, after all.
“You look beautiful,” he told her sincerely, but his surprise must’ve shown in his expression. Lena blushed a little and looked down at her outfit self-consciously.
“I forgot you’ve never seen me at GC. I dress differently for work.”
“Understandable.”
“You look great too,” she complimented him, wondering if he could hear the arousal in her voice.
While he’d been taking in her altered appearance, Lena had been doing the same in return. His tailored gray suit was just a shade or two darker than her dress, and she realized that they’d inadvertently coordinated their outfits. She’d seen Owen in a shirt and tie before but never in a suit jacket, and she couldn’t help but salivate a little over the way the cut emphasized his broad shoulders and thick biceps. His crisp, white shirt was open at the neck, and he’d foregone a tie. It made the skin of his neck seem somehow darker and more rugged, even though he’d shaved for the occasion. Lena found herself missing his stubble, but the clean-shaven look worked well for him too. She could smell him even across the room, and she stifled a groan at the knowledge of how difficult it would be to get through the evening without ripping his clothes off.
The ride to Mercer was sexually charged and mildly awkward, and Lena was more aware than ever of the fact that she’d been doing her best to avoid him that week. Her eyes kept straying from the road as she drove, distracted by even the smallest of movements. It would be a miracle if they could get through the evening without feeling each other up, awkwardness be damned. As they drove, Lena gave him a brief rundown of those she expected to be in attendance that evening and warned him that the dinner conversation might end up being rather boring.
Ember (Constant Flame Duet Book 1) Page 18
