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I grab the jacket before he changes his mind. “Thank you.”
He confuses me when he exits the stall we’ve been squashed in and says to Poppy, “Good luck with your shares. Yell out if you need help. I can recommend some great brokers.”
“Wait,” I call out. “You’re not coming with us so you can get your jacket back?” I cringe at how desperate I must sound. I’m just not ready to let him go yet. I want more time in his company. I want to stare into those eyes of his and imagine swimming some more.
His baby blues sparkle as they take me in again. “Keep the jacket. I have a feeling you need it more than I do tonight.”
With that, he turns and leaves Poppy and me alone in the bathroom. I’m ready to sag against the wall and run a play-by-play in my head of the entire interaction I just had with Owen, but Poppy grabs my arm and demands, “We need to go!”
She drags me out of the cubicle before I can collect myself. I stumble because I’m only wearing one of her Amazonian-inspired heels. “Geez, Pop, give me a moment.”
Letting me go, she drops her gaze to my feet. “Where is your other shoe? Goodness, Charles, what’s gotten into you tonight? You’re a mess.”
I make my way to where my other shoe landed in the corner of the bathroom when it broke. Snatching it up off the ground, I mutter, “You got into me tonight! You made me dress up in shit I would never usually wear. I’m so far out of my comfort zone it’s not funny. And being in this hotel for the entire weekend with my mother is enough to put me off my game for months. You’re lucky I love you as much as I do.”
She takes a deep breath and allows some of the tension in her body to seep out. “You really must love me. Who else would put up with all my shit? Especially when I didn’t even ask you to be one of my bridesmaids. I’m sorry I’m such a shitty cousin.”
I put my arm around her waist as we exit the bathroom. “You’re not a shitty cousin. And for the record, I do not do the bridesmaid thing. You know that. And can I just say, this jacket is the best jacket I’ve ever worn in my life.” It really is. Mostly because it smells all manly and sexy.
“That’s because it belongs to Owen North. I’m not sure how you managed to get him into that stall with you, but girl, he’s the guy every woman at this wedding wants to score.”
She says his name like it should mean something to me, but it doesn’t. Poppy and I might come from the same family, but I’ve distanced myself from them and everything they stand for. I’ve also removed myself from their world. Today was the first time I’ve seen my parents in months. So, throwing out Owen’s name isn’t of any use to me, because I don’t know who he is, and I have no intention of finding out.
He might be hot.
And I might want to go swimming with him.
But there’s no way Owen North and I would ever be a match.
“What the hell made you look up your shares at your wedding, anyway?” I ask Poppy as we head towards the elevators.
“Don’t give me hell about my devotion to my shares, Charles. A girl has to make sure she’s able to take care of herself at all times. Even if she is married now.”
I laugh.
Our mothers may have taught us a lot of useless stuff about how to act in public, how to host a dinner party, and how to walk in heels, but they also made sure we knew how to fend for ourselves in life.
2
Owen
I grimace as I rake my fingers through my hair and stare at Julian. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”
His lips flatten as he pulls a face. The kind of face that tells me he’s not fucking kidding me. “Sorry, man. I wish I were. But he effectively wiped ten mil off your bottom line last night.”
I don’t waste time mulling my choices over. As far as I’m concerned, there’s only one to be made here. “Get rid of him and find me a new analyst. And get Maxwell to take over his work.”
Julian nods, and after he leaves, I swivel my chair so I’m facing the view of Sydney city I have from my office. It’s not so much the lost cash that’s angered me; we’ll make that up without a problem. It’s Graham, one of my analysts. He’s been sloppy for months now, at least six. I’ve given him space and time to fix whatever the hell is wrong in his life, but he’s continued to make mistake after mistake. If there’s one thing I can’t tolerate, it’s people who waste opportunities.
My phone rings and I answer it in the pissed-off mood I’m in. “What?”
“Owen, that’s no way to answer your phone.”
I rub my temples. It’s just gone nine in the morning, and already my day has turned to shit. “What are you doing calling me so early in the morning, Mother?” She’s usually at some gathering with her friends or at the gym or something that involves other people. My mother has an incessant need to be surrounded by people she can impress. I love her, but I’ll never understand that desire.
“Can a mother not call her son?”
Jesus. Today is not the day for this. “I’m sorry, but I’m dealing with something that is time sensitive. Can I call you back if it’s not urgent?”
