Owen's brow furrows, obvious confusion filling his face. "I don't understand. Are you saying you're not worthy?"
I shake my head. "No, I'm not. I'm just the girl from a small New York apartment. A girl who used to sit around hoping one day I’d get a job, a place I can call my own, and eventually settle down once I met the right man. I'm only here because you met my mom. I'm only here because she got lucky and met someone who could fulfill all her dreams. I never expected any of this." I wave my hands around the barn, sighing.
"Do you want me to take her back?"
I shake my head. "Of course not. You have to keep her. I will help look after her, but don't say she's mine. Don't buy me something I haven’t worked for. I don't deserve it."
Owen's jaw ticks, his eyes darkening with annoyance. "I don't ever want to hear you put yourself down like that again. I bought you a present. So fucking what? Why not try accepting her graciously and saying thank you? Why do you have to be such a martyr?"
My eyes widen, anger building deep in my veins. "Owen, a present is an item of clothing, a piece of jewelry, or a book…"
"If you want those things, they're yours."
I close my eyes. "You don't get it. I don't want those things from you. I want…" I shut my mouth, stopping the word from falling from my lips. The word that will change everything.
Owen steps closer, so close, his aftershave invades my nostrils, paining me even more. "What do you want, Savannah? What is it?"
"It's nothing. Forget I said anything."
"Savannah, what is it that you want?" He grips me by both arms, squeezing tightly. "Answer the fucking question!”
"You!" I scream, backing away from his puzzled face. "Are you happy now?"
The sound of silence is almost deafening. I close my eyes again, a small tear falling down my cheek. It was fun at first—the fleeting looks, longing stares, and silent conversations—but the longer it goes on, the less fun it is and more serious it gets.
"When you buy me these gifts, how do you expect me not to…?"
"Not to what?"
I sigh, knowing I'm going to finally break the dynamics of our relationship. When I open them back up, Owen is watching intently, waiting ever so patiently for my reply.
"Not to fall for you," I whisper softly, hoping he doesn’t hear me, while also hoping he does.
I cautiously look up and find him biting his lip, stress lines forming on his brow. "You can't fall in love with me."
"I'm not saying I am. I don't expect shit from you. But when you build stables and then buy me a horse—something to care for and love because you know how happy it would make me—how do you expect me not to feel things for you I know I shouldn't? How do you expect me to be with you day in and day out, pretending what we have together is as platonic as your business associates at the office?" I close the distance between us, resting a hand on his chest. He inhales, obvious indecision written in his eyes. "You're kind to me, take care of me, hold me when I get upset, happy for me when something good happens in my life. You're there for me in every way you should be, but also in every way you shouldn't be, and you expect me not to feel?"
Owen's brow furrows even deeper. "I'm sorry," he finally says, taking a step back. "I went too far. I should have never crossed that line."
And just like that, he leaves, closing the door behind him. I expected him to ask questions, expected him to tell me it was unforgivable for me to feel for him in ways I shouldn't. What I certainly didn't expect was for him to apologize before walking out the door.
I'm left all alone in the stables, unable to figure out what the fuck just happened and what to do next. I stand for a while, stroking the horse, feeling how soft her mane is.
"Why is life so complicated, huh…Katrina?" I say the first name that comes to mind, and smile. "Yes, you do look like a Katrina." I keep petting her, loving her response as she nuzzles her nose into my hand. I lean over, kissing her head before giving her one last stroke, a final decision made. "I need to go for a few days, but as soon as I'm ready, I'll be back to look after you. I promise."
I make my way toward the house, and as I'm about to walk up the stairs, my mother appears, looking all glam as usual. Her hair is a mass of blonde wavy curls, her pink Gucci pant suit hugging her now elegant frame. Considering she now has a personal trainer, she looks as fit and healthy as ever. It's a pity she has a stone-cold heart. I grit my teeth, hating that I’ve lowered myself to her standards. I am not my mother.
I am not my mother.
Head held high, she waltzes in like a model, taking in her surroundings. I wonder for a moment whether I can quickly scurry upstairs, but her eyes zero in on me, narrowing slightly.
"Oh, it's you." If she were a venomous snake, I'd be dead by now. I brace myself for whatever spiteful words she has to say.
Her eyes scan my frame, taking in the very short summer dress I decided to wear to impress Owen. One step, two steps, she's in front of me like a lioness about to pounce on her prey.
"Looking to impress someone with that slutty dress, Savannah?"
I brandish a tight smile. I don't want her to see that anything she has to say will affect me. "I'm only around the house and it's a hot day."
"Hmmm…" She takes her sunglasses off. "Is Owen around?"
"I haven't seen him," I lie.
Her eyes land on me, then the dress again. "Hoping he'll see you in that?"
"No!"
Yes.
She cackles. "If you think he will even bat one eye at you, you're surely mistaken. All you are to him is a poor girl hanging on the strings of her successful mother. You're his underling who can't snag herself a rich man." Her eyes travel the length of my body, her mouth turning into a sneer. "How pathetic."
No matter how hard I try, tears begin to build in my eyes. I grit my teeth, angry she's once again gotten under my skin. "He's married to my mother," I growl back, sounding incensed.
"As long as you keep telling yourself that, we’ll be okay. You see, I have seen the way you look at him. I don't blame you. He is a very attractive man. It's just every time you flit your eyelashes at him, I can't help but laugh. He would never be interested in someone who looks like you. It's pitiful." She steps in closer, leaning into my ear. "You're nothing," she says, then saunters away like she hasn’t just savaged her daughter with such cruel words. "Frank!" she screams. "Frank!" she cries again.
My shoulders sag in both relief and dejection. All my life, I've had to put up with her taunting. I don't know why she feels the need to put her daughter down all the time. Ever since I was a little girl, I have done nothing right. I always slouched too much or too little. My hair was never styled properly or to her standards. My clothes always looked shabby and dirty. I started to think maybe she was seeing something I couldn't. In fact, it got to a stage where I felt she must be right. She is my mother, after all. It's just that every time I tried to change something to make her proud of me, I would only end up making it worse.
Crestfallen, I turn to make my way up to my room, when I spot something out the corner of my eye. I glance over, finding Owen staring at me through a slightly open door. He must have witnessed the whole thing, but I don't care. If what she said is true, then I'm done here.
Without so much as an acknowledgment, I walk up the stairs into my bedroom to pack a few things. Bag in hand, I hunt for Frank, hoping my mom is nowhere to be found. Thankfully, I find him alone in the wine cellar doing inventory.
"Hey, Frank. Can I ask you something?"
Frank glances my way, smiling. When he spots my bag in hand, he frowns. "Of course. What is it?" He places his pen and pad down, walking closer toward me.
"I need some time away. I think it’s best if I stay at the lake house for a couple days."
His brow furrowing more, he steps closer. "Is everything okay?"
I smile at his concern. "Everything's fine. I just need to refresh my batteries, you know?"
Frank simply nods, and I'm grateful to hi
m for that. "I'll go fetch Brandon. He'll be more than happy to take you."
"Thanks."
"Does Mr. Montgomery know?"
Shaking my head, I bite my lip. "No, and I would prefer to keep it that way."
"And your mother?"
I laugh. "I doubt she'll even notice I'm gone."
Frank looks saddened by this, but is unfortunately acquainted enough with my mother to understand. "I'll go get Brandon. Sit tight."
"Thank you," I reply, sitting down to wait. At least if I stay here, no one but Frank will find me.
Too alone in my thoughts, my heart sinks, feeling stupid. All this time, I believed I was working my way into Owen's mind—and maybe even heart—when he just thought of me as a pet to lavish gifts on. I had been naive to think I could be like my mother—seducing the one and only man off limits to me.
She's right. I am pathetic.
I don't know where I go from here, but I need to figure something out and fast.
I can't live like this any longer.
I Hate U I Love U
Gnash
Present
"Why are you out of bed? If I were you and looked like that, I would hide in bed all day."
It's been three days since I left the hospital. Three days of me trying the Netflix and ice cream suggestion from the doc. It was fun at first, now I'm just plain bored. Determined to get out of bed and stop hiding from the world, I decided it was best to get off my ass and go fetch my own damn lunch. I'm tired of Frank bringing me food. He says it's his job, but he should never have to wait on me. However, now that I've bumped into my mother—the last person I expected to see—I'm regretting my decision.
"Gee, thanks, Mom. Next time you get kicked in the ribs by a horse, I'll remind you of this."
Getting up from her seat, my mom sneers in my direction. She had been sitting on the bar stool in the kitchen, reading her paper and obviously enjoying the alone time until I came along and ruined it all for her.
"Since we've moved in here, you've become an insubordinate, little shit. Remember who brought you here, Savannah. Every night you’re wrapped up in the finest of silk sheets, and it isn’t your actions that put you there. It’s mine!”
She always does this—acts like she's done me this big favor. I'm sick of it. "You're the one who was determined you were destined to this life. Not me."
My mom stalks toward me until she's by my side. "Don't tell me every time you swim in the pool, sleep in your king-sized bed, and ride that precious horse of yours you don't love every fucking moment of it. You're nothing but a selfish, ungrateful bitch. Maybe you should take a look in the mirror sometime. You'd be horrified at what stares back at you."
She walks off, and I grit my teeth. I'm angry she's once again got one over on me, but even more so, I'm angry she's right. I have been loving every moment and it fucking kills me to admit it. She knows I feel it, there's no denying that. I just hate that I have to swallow my pride and admit it.
"Oh my God!" my mom screams from somewhere in the house.
Too intrigued to know what's going on, I follow the sound, only to find her standing in the living room, the TV blaring the news, and her hand covering her mouth. I look up to the screen and see what's horrified her.
Eyes widening, my stomach drops and my mouth becomes dry. On the screen is a photo of Terry Vendable, with the words “Terry Vendable Found Dead in Hotel Suite.” Too stunned to say anything, I listen to the news.
"Terry Vendable, Partner at Vendable & Son, was found dead this morning in his hotel suite in New York. He was out partying last night with a few friends and seemed to be in good spirits. However, when his dad phoned the hotel this morning and couldn't get a hold of his son, he requested they knock on his door. What they found, the hotel manager says he will never forget."
It cuts to the hotel in question and outside is a very distressed man covering his face. "It was awful. I always thought maybe one day I would come across something stressful like this, but I was never actually prepared for it." He waves his hand in front of the camera. "I can't talk right now, I'm sorry."
It cuts to the news anchor outside the hotel. "That was Mark Burrows, hotel manager. He's obviously still coming to terms with what he saw."
"What is it you know so far?" the news reporter back at the studio asks.
"What we know is Terry Vendable went out with a group of friends last night, then came back to his hotel suite with two call girls. It is believed they left around two this morning and police are currently interviewing them. The investigation is ongoing, but so far, they suspect a drugs overdose."
It cuts to the news reporter back in the studio. "Thanks, Brady." She then starts to talk about other news, leaving me in complete shock.
"I can't believe it," my mom wails. "Theresa and Mike are going to be so devastated. Their only son."
Rather startled by her exaggerated outburst, I glance her way, momentarily forgetting Terry is actually dead.
"I have to call them," she blurts, waving her hands around in a panic. She's not talking to me, that much I know. She seems to be in a world of her own.
Once she's out of the room, I snap out of it, quickly digging my phone from my pocket. I search Terry's name on Google, and sure enough, there are several articles, all pretty much saying the same thing. However, there is one that catches my eye. According to TMZ, Terry had been linked to a series of alcohol and drug-related offenses that had always been covered up whenever his dad got involved.
I guess that solves my problem now. In a way, it must have solved Owen's too. I remember all too well what he said to me when I was lying in the hospital bed five days ago. "He's a fucking dead man."
Owen must have superpowers.
"Did you hear the news?" I turn toward my mother's voice, only to find Owen standing in the doorway, watching me intently.
How long has he been standing there?
Not even glancing my mother's way, he says, "Yes, it’s an awful shame." He doesn't say the words, but his intent eyes burrowing their way into mine convey his message loud and clear.
He doesn't give two shits.
"Theresa and Mike are beside themselves. What should we do?"
He offers a small smile. "Tell Frank to send them some flowers from us all."
She nods and tilts her head to look at me. A cocky smirk coats her lips before she places a lingering kiss on his cheek. I suck in a breath, trying not to let the green-eyed monster burn inside my stomach. What those two do together is no concern of mine. I'm done with them.
She scurries off, leaving me in the living room and Owen still standing in the doorway. "How are you feeling?" he asks, pushing himself off the ledge and walking in, deliberately closing the distance between us.
"A lot better now, thanks," I answer. After what he said, I don't want him anywhere near me. I purposefully focus my attention on the TV screen. However, it doesn’t stop me from noticing him out the corner of my eye. His sweet cologne hits my nostrils, and I try so hard not to inhale, taking in his masculinity. I may hate him right now, but my body still reacts to his presence. It still hums with desire, and my heart still skips that little beat.
"We have a lot to discuss." He runs a finger down my arm, making goosebumps rise.
"There's nothing to discuss." I jerk my arm away so he can't touch me anymore.
He sucks in a breath. "If you really think you can stay away from me, Savannah, you are sadly mistaken. You may try—hell, you may even try to run from me—but no matter where you go, or how far you run, I will find you. I always win."
Anger boiling through my veins, I snap my head to him, my eyes narrowing in annoyance. "You think because you have money and power you can exert it over me? You may be used to getting everything you want, Owen, but you are not getting me. I am done."
The triumphant feeling I gain does not last long when Owen simply smiles at me, leaning in closer to whisper, "You and I will never be done. You are mine, Savannah. You will forever b
e mine."
My eyes widen. Owen has always been a possessive man, but he's never taken it to this level. Putting it down to dominance rather than a declaration of his feelings for me, I grit my teeth. "You don't get to treat me that way and think you can simply pick up where we left off. You were despicable that night. I don't know what we have together, but what I at least thought we had was respect for one another…trust in each other. You tore that all down when you accused me of being a whore."
Owen angrily sucks in air through his nostrils, his green eyes now dark with frustration. "You really think you could have another man’s semen on your dress like Monica fucking Lewinsky and I wouldn't put two and two together and come up with four? Yes, I had jumped to conclusions, but how could you blame me for thinking you had betrayed me?"
"What, like you with my mother!" I whisper-hiss. "Time and time again, you fuck me, then get under the sheets with my mom. How do you think that makes me feel?"
Owen swallows, momentarily silent. Up until now, I had never shown Owen my true feelings for him. Up until now, I had been treating it as casual sex. But it has bothered me. I have been ripped up inside knowing he's keeping my mother's bed warm at night.
"I don't touch her."
Closing my eyes, I shake my head. "That's not what she gleefully tells me…"
"And you fucking believe her? Jesus, Savannah, you really think I would sleep with someone who treats her daughter like shit?"
"Then why are you fucking married to her?" I growl. I'm not sure I believe him, but something has always been amiss in their marriage.
Owen looks away, his jaw ticking in anger. "I can't go into that."
I let out a sigh, causing him to look back at me. "Because you don't trust me." I round him, determined to get away. I need space from him to heal mentally as well as physically. I don't know whether I'm in love with Owen or not, but what I do know is it hurts my heart whenever I’m near him.
Could that be love?
"I wanted Terry to suffer after what he did to you." I stop dead in my tracks, my body stiff at the mention of his name. "Unfortunately, that would have raised suspicion. At least now he won't ever be able to touch you like that again."
Forbidden Desires Page 9
