"I had no other choice. As well as stealing from the company, he's been coming in drunk, and as a consequence, things like today with the license not coming through happened. I don't take joy in firing people, but he understood. I put him in touch with a good divorce lawyer. Hopefully he will sort himself out."
The thought makes my heart warm. "You're a good man, Owen."
He flits his eyes away from me and chuckles. "Despite the way I treated you today, you still feel that way?"
"You had a lot on your plate."
"It doesn't excuse my behavior." His eyes land on mine, and he leans forward. "Do you forgive me?"
I would love to know why he was snappy with me after such a good start to the day. It was like a switch had suddenly gone off. Despite that, though, there's only one answer I can give him. "Of course I do."
"It's more than I deserve."
"You're being way too hard on yourself. Today was very stressful, and not only that you had to fire someone, which couldn't have been easy."
"I wouldn't have known all that if it weren't for you."
"I had to tell you."
"And I'm glad you did. You put me and my company first. That's the way it should be. Now, go back to sleep. We still have another two hours in the air yet. I'll wake you once we land."
Grabbing his suitcase, Owen takes out a load of paperwork and places everything on the table in front of him. A set of reading glasses goes on next, and I stare in fascination at him for a little while as he works. The glasses make him look younger. His eyes dance over the writing on the pages, his forehead crinkling in deep thought. He circles something, writes, and a tiny portion of his tongue sticks out, making me laugh. He looks up, smiling in response to my giggle.
"Go to sleep, Savannah."
Still highly amused, I press the button on my chair so it fully reclines and pull the blanket back over me. "Goodnight, Owen."
"Goodnight," he responds.
It's not long after I'm fast asleep and dreaming.
Owen is carrying me. I'm limp in his arms as he takes me somewhere before placing me down. His fingers delicately land on my face, pushing a strand of hair away. I moan in response to his touch.
"You're so beautiful," he whispers, making me moan again. I want him to touch me.
But then he's gone. The dream disappears, and I get pulled into the darkness again. The sound of my voice saying, “Please come back,” is the last thing I hear before blackness consumes me.
In the Air Tonight
Phil Collins
Present
My heart accelerates. My mouth becomes dry. Nausea erupts in my stomach, causing acid to hit the back of my throat. He knows something. Victory dances in his eyes. Seeking a savior, my head snaps toward the house. There’s no one there, but less than a hundred yards, I'll be within the confines of safety.
"No one is around to save you, Savannah."
Feeling trapped, my anger rises. I should not be made to feel this way. Ever. "I'm going back to the house." I begin my journey, and his deep, menacing voice rings through the night air.
"If you do that, I will tell your mother how her husband thinks her daughter’s pussy is so tight."
Eyes widening, I stop dead in my tracks. He heard everything. I knew we were being careless, but as always, I couldn't help myself around him. No matter what the situation, Owen always manages to twist me to his will.
And now we've been caught. I knew it was a matter of time. Our carelessness is going to come at a price. He's going to blackmail me with something, and considering he has plenty of money, I doubt it will be that.
Reluctantly, I turn, only to be greeted with his arrogant smugness. "What do you want?"
He motions with his hand toward the barn. "If you come with me, I will tell you."
I don't want to go with him, but I also can't have him running back to the house to tell my mom everything either. Still reluctant, I gaze back at the house again.
"Your choice, Savannah. You can go back if you want, but there will be consequences if you do. All I want is a little chat."
I don't believe him, but I also have little choice. I personally don't care about my mom finding out about Owen and I. We both realize my mom hasn't exactly been the most faithful wife herself. What I do care about is Owen and his reputation. If this gets out, it could ruin him. If my mom finds out, she could ruin him. That’s the only reason why I stay silent. My loyalty toward him trumps my own feelings on the matter.
On a very heavy sigh, I walk toward the barn. Terry's smile rises, triumphant in the knowledge he holds the power. I deliberately avert my gaze, angry that he’s put me in a vulnerable position. I don't want to look at his smug reaction to getting one over on me. He can say whatever he has to say, and then I’ll figure out how to deal with it later.
I push my way into the barn door, instantly getting a whiff of Owen's scent still lingering in the air. It makes my stomach twist.
"It smells like sex in here."
I spin around, narrowing my eyes on Terry. "What do you want?"
His eyes travel around the barn as he closes the distance. When he's only a couple feet away, he stops, imprisoning me with those same creepy eyes. Slowly and deliberately, they travel the length of my body.
“It sounds like Owen enjoyed every second of fucking you. That's what I want."
I shake my head and start to walk past him. "No, that's not going to happen."
Snaking his hand over my arm, he grips so tightly, I can hardly move. He leans over, and when he breathes out, the distinct aroma of whiskey is on his breath. Nausea erupts in my stomach again. If he tries anything with me, I will kick him in the balls.
"I'm not going to be inside you right after he's had a dip. I want you fresh when we get together. For now, I will settle on you getting me off—one way or another."
Acid bubbles in my stomach. "I would rather jab hot pokers in my eyes than ever touch you." I snap my arm away from him as he smiles.
"Suit yourself. I'll just go tell Mommy what a naughty girl her daughter's been."
He walks away, causing panic like no other to rush through my veins. I don't want to do anything he asks, but I can't have him tell my mom anything.
"Fine," I whisper softly. He's fucking got me. If Owen were here, he would rescue the situation, but I'm at a loss.
I have no other choice.
He stops and turns, that same arrogant, smug smile on his face. "What?"
I close my eyes tightly and sigh. I can't believe I'm actually going to do this. I want to cry…scream at the world for this injustice. I'm not a whore, but right now, I’m being made into one.
I open my eyes and squeeze my fists together to give me courage. "I'll do what you ask. Just don't tell my mom anything."
He stalks toward me, and I instinctively walk back—until I hit a bale of hay. The closer he gets, the more my mouth waters with the onset of bile threatening to escape.
When he's inches away from me, he places his hands on his hips. "Unzip me," he orders.
With shaky hands, I do as he commands, but once I have the zipper down, I shake my head. "I can't do this."
Gripping the back of my hair, he pulls my head back, and I yelp. He leans forward, his breath hot against my ear. "Take it out and make me come, bitch. Make me come like the good little whore you are. You've come this far, Savannah. I can make this more difficult for you. Your decision."
Tears sting my eyes. He deliberately digs his hardness into my hip, emphasizing his point.
"I can always change my mind and fuck you…bare." I violently shake my head. "Then be a good girl and pleasure me."
My shaky hand makes its way toward the button of his slacks. When I dip my hand in and touch his penis, he hisses, causing me to close my eyes. Tears roll down my cheeks, and my face burns with shame. I hate that he’s seeing me cry, but I can’t stop it.
I retrieve his erect penis out and glide my hand down his shaft. He moans in response, drawing back
and thrusting forward. I don't move. I can't move. All I do is fist his dick as he starts to fuck my hand. I close my eyes, trying to drown out the sounds, trying to make my mind go elsewhere, but he grips my hair tighter, fisting it until my scalp cries out with pain.
"Fuck yes! Next time it will be that tight pussy of yours."
He groans, moving faster. His breathing becomes more labored with each thrust. Then he grunts before yanking me toward him. I open my eyes to find semen gushing out of him and landing on my dress. I desperately attempt to pull away, but he grabs the back of my neck and pulls me toward his lips, thrusting his tongue inside my mouth. I start to choke, but manage to leverage my tongue out the way enough to bite his.
The heat of his body leaves me, but not for long. "Fucking bitch, you bit me!"
A sharp, stinging pain ricochets across my face, the force of it making me stumble and fall to the floor. My cheek stings like hell, but I have no time to dwell on that as a sharp kick impacts my stomach. "Bitch!" he yells before striking again, this time in the ribs.
I cry out, screaming for him to stop. When I curl up into a ball, I glance up to find him wiping blood away from his lip. "Do that again, and I will fucking kill you."
He turns, walking out of the barn, leaving me sobbing as I lay huddled on the cold barn floor.
I’m in so much pain. My face hurts, but even more so, my ribs. I need to try to get back into the house without my mother or—even worse—Owen finding me.
Despite wheezing and my ribs crying out in pain, I manage to scramble to my feet. I glance down, noticing the wet, sticky stain on my dress. I need to get it off—burn it.
His pungent aroma hits me, and despite the searing pain, I double over and vomit all over the floor. I gasp loudly, trying to take in oxygen, but it feels like my lungs are giving out.
Shit, I'm going to die with no one around to help me.
With that thought in my head, I get angry. Angry at that fucker, Terry, for thinking he could treat me in such a degrading and vile way. Sheer determination is what helps me gain my breath back. I won't let him win. I refuse to.
I take one step, then two, and when I think I can walk better without my ribs screaming out, I look in each stable for a blanket. We sometimes keep several of them in here, and thankfully, I’m in luck. Draping it over my shoulders, I stumble toward the barn door, inhaling sharply as the wind hits my face, and regretting it the moment the pain in my ribs intensifies.
I walk out, twisting my ankle slightly, almost falling to the floor. I groan out in pain, but continue to walk until I get to the servants’ quarters in the basement. Frank is inside, and when I must catch the corner of his eye, he glances my way, mouth parting at my disheveled state. With no hesitation, he runs toward me.
"Savannah, what happened?"
It only takes Frank’s concern for the dam to break. The deep ache in the pit of my stomach forces its way up to my throat with an almighty force, I have no alternative but liberate that sob. My body trembles with both fury and pain. Fury at Terry for making me so exposed, and pain at the ordeal he unleashed on me. My pain so evident, Frank has no other alternative but to hold me for a few moments until I calm down.
"Can…you…help me to my room? I don't want anyone to see me like this."
His hand squeezes my shoulder. "Of course I can, but who did this to you?"
I shake my head. "I just want to go to bed. Please."
Frank frowns, but motions for us to move. “We’ll continue through the servants’ quarters where you won't be seen."
"T-Thank…you," I stutter through my sobs.
We take the few steps down into the kitchens where everyone's busy either cooking or cleaning up. They all stare as Frank parades me through. I have the blanket tightly wrapped around me fearing everyone will smell the deceit on me.
In no time at all, I'm taken up the stairs, but I don't dare breathe a sigh of relief until I'm at the top. Once inside my room, I say my thanks to Frank, desperate to rip this dress off.
"Can I get you anything?" he asks as I stand in the middle of my room.
"Do we have any painkillers?" My ribs are really killing me now.
He frowns, taking my hand and squeezing. "I'll get them right away."
I nod and quickly shut the door behind me. Now that I'm alone, I scramble to get the dress off, almost breaking a few fingernails in the process, and toss it on the floor like it burned me. Running to the shower, I turn on the hot water and step into the spray. Warm water cascades over me, washing away all my tears. When the water starts to become lukewarm, I switch the tap off, step out, and immediately wrap a towel around myself. I open the door to walk into my room, and jump with a start at Owen standing in front of me, my dress in his hands, his eyes narrowed with rage.
"What the fuck is this? I can smell the fucking shit a mile away."
I place my hand out, trying to calm him. "It's not what you think—"
"Not what I think…not what I think? Do you really believe I'm that fucking stupid? Someone said they saw you both go into the barn, but by the time I got there, you had disappeared. I could fucking smell it, though—smell your fucking betrayal."
"Owen, please…"
He throws the dress down in disgust before stalking toward me. I walk back and when I hit the wall, Owen closes in, his hot breath hitting my face. He gnarls his teeth, penetrating me with such disgust, it breaks my heart in two.
"You're just like your mother—nothing but a fucking money-sucking whore."
He sharply turns, walking out the door and slamming it behind him. I fall to the floor, tears tumbling down my cheeks. When I manage to calm enough, I crawl to the bed where I find a glass of water and some tablets waiting for me on the nightstand.
I silently thank Frank and down the tablets as fast as I can before curling into a ball and closing myself off from the world.
Everything hurts, but what hurts the most is Owen losing his faith in me.
Anything Can Happen
Ellie Goulding
Six months earlier
It's been five days since I awoke on the plane and found I had been moved to the sofa. To this day, I’ve often wondered if it was all a dream. Owen moved me at some point, that much is certain, but did I imagine the rest?
Since that day, I have put all my efforts into trying to learn the ropes of the job. As much as I love daydreaming about what Owen’s like in bed, some things have to take precedence. Owen has been setting daily tasks for me, and so far, I have been completing them without any major hitches. Luckily, it’s mostly been keeping on top of invoices, shipments, bookkeeping, and filing. Office work like this is something I thrive on, so it's been enjoyable.
Owen has since been trying to find a replacement for Mr. James while helping him with his divorce at the same time. He doesn't owe the man anything, but his compassion and humility is endearing.
It's making the task of trying not to crush on him impossible.
This last week has been hell, but only because most mornings I get to secretly watch Owen work out in his gym. I have been tempted to throw on some sexy spandex and join him on a few occasions, but I’ve kept my distance and just…watched.
Yesterday was Saturday, and I spent most of my day around the pool as Owen worked. I offered to help, but he refused, telling me it was the weekend and my time of rest. When I tried to tell him the same, his answer was, "I'm the boss. Bosses do not rest."
It's now Sunday lunchtime, and Owen is locked in his office again. Making my way down to the servants’ quarters, I make some sandwiches and gather some fruit. One of the cooks tries to take over, but I insist on doing this myself. Owen is a busy man and can appreciate why he would need people running around for him so he doesn't have to. I, on the other hand, can look after myself. That is one part of me I'm determined not to lose.
Frank kindly fetches a wicker basket for me from one of the pantries, and I load all the sandwiches, fruit, and drinks—including a bottle of wine—before
making my way to Owen's study.
I rap on his door with my knuckle, and when his booming voice calls for me to come in, I press down on the handle. As always, he takes my breath away, sitting proudly at his desk. Although casual in a white polo shirt and navy khakis, every ounce of him still screams importance. His dark, wavy curls are gelled back, making his green eyes pop. They smile, pleased to see me, but then a frown forms when I produce the wicker basket from behind me.
"What is this?" he asks, somewhat amused and intrigued at the same time.
"I made a picnic."
His eyebrow raises and he sets his pen down, clasping his hands together and leaning back in his chair. His chest puffs out, and I can't help but look at how positively defined he is. He's like a dream man wrapped up in this perfect little package. Well…big package. There's certainly nothing little about Owen.
"You made a picnic?"
"I am capable, you know," I retort, walking forward and setting the picnic basket on his grand mahogany desk.
"Where are you going?"
Clasping my hands on his desk, I lean forward, hoping his eyes will travel to my cleavage. I deliberately put on a low-cut red top this morning just for this occasion.
Yes, I know. I'm a real bitch.
It works, and I internally celebrate my victory. As if sensing he's going to be caught, he averts his gaze, fixing his eyes on mine. It's almost as if he's afraid to look anywhere else.
"I actually made this for you. You've been working too hard and deserve a break. I was hoping you'd take this in your Bugatti and let your hair down a little."
He chuckles at my expression. "I don't have much hair to let down."
I shrug my shoulder in a very flirtatious way and wonder if he senses my playfulness. To be honest, I don't really care.
"You know what I mean," I reply with a slight gleam in my eyes.
Owen glances down at all the paperwork on his desk before sucking in a breath. "I guess I could do with a break. I did promise a ride in my Bugatti, didn't I?"
Forbidden Desires Page 5
