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Owen
I wantto give a damn that Jack is going to have something to say about my choice in date, but I don’t. Not one fucking bit. Seeing Ella unafraid of the man most people cower to has my interest in her rising by the second. I know this isn’t supposed to be a real date, but I’ll be a damn lucky man if it ends like one.
We get to the open bar just past the food tables and Ella stops. “Do you want me to leave?”
I recoil. “What? No. Why?”
She glances at where Jack still stands with his back to us. “I just annoyed the hell out of your boss. Not that I care, but I won’t be offended if you want me to go.”
“Is that what you want?” I ask. If she was only making a scene to get out of the deal that I pretty much coerced her into, then I’m not going to force her to be at my side.
I’m not a selfish prick. I want this arrangement to be mutually beneficial.
She bites the inside of her cheek, and it takes every restraint I have to keep from stroking her smooth skin.
“I don’t know,” she answers honestly. Something that takes me by surprise.
“Well, you let me know when you do. Just because you put on the dress and opened the door, doesn’t mean I’m going to hold you to anything, Ella.”
Though, I’d like to press her against the brick wall behind us and kiss her until she can’t remember anything other than me, but she doesn’t need to know that. Not yet, anyway.
Her cheeks flush, and I wonder what she’s thinking, but I don’t want to scare her off when she already seems on edge, so I don’t ask like I want to.
“How about that drink you mentioned?” she says.
We step forward and the barkeep greets us with a smile. He’s young. Well, at least younger than me and dressed in an all-black tuxedo. He tosses his longer blond hair back and asks, “What can I get you?”
“A whiskey sour,” I answer, then nod toward Ella. I don’t intend to order for her.
“Bartender’s choice. Just make sure there’s vodka in it.”
Her answer isn’t all that surprising considering she ordered something similar when we were on the plane together. Though, I also wouldn’t be surprised if she normally prefers wine when she isn’t nervous.
She sighs. “I think I’m going to need something stronger than wine to handle this party.”
An unexpected sense of satisfaction fills me that I wasn’t wrong about her normal preferences. “You’re probably right.”
I want to ask if by ordering the drink that it also means she’s staying, but I keep the question to myself. I don’t need to remind her that leaving is an option.
The bartender hands us our drinks. “A vodka tonic for the beautiful lady.”
I notice her slight smile at the compliment when we step to the side, and I take note that she seems to appreciate that someone took notice of her efforts to look nice for the mixer.
Ella leans against one of the canopy frames, and her shoulders give off a slight shudder when she glances back. “I could never work for a man like that.”
I know I should say something about why I’ve stayed with Harrington Enterprises so that Ella understands I’m nothing like Jack, but I only shrug in response to her statement. Regret for brushing her off fills me when she looks away from me and focuses on the ocean in front of us.
There’s time to salvage the moment, but I miss it when I get distracted by her beauty.
My eyes study the profile of her face. Her lips are painted with red lipstick, making them appear fuller than before. Her lashes are coated in mascara she doesn’t need, and cover-up diminishes the glow she had earlier from her time under the sun. Still, her natural attraction isn’t something that can be easily missed.
“Ella?” I say her name with trepidation and step closer to her.
“Owen,” she counters, meeting my gaze.
“Why are you here?” I ask before taking a long pull of my whiskey sour.
She chuckles. “Because you basically made me feel like I had no choice.”
