Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
LAYA
O wen feeds me another strawberry while I sit on his lap like a child. He refuses to let me leave his side and has taken his responsibility as caregiver to a whole new level, including brushing my teeth and hair and moisturizing my body. Not that I’m complaining about the attention he lavishes on me, because his love for me flows from him freely now, when he always had his feelings so locked down while I battled to break through his defenses.
His phone buzzes on the kitchen table, and I glance at the screen to see the name Rafael on there. Owen grimaces and picks the phone up, answering the call.
“You’ve some fucking nerve, Owen,” Rafael bellows.
“I know. I apologize.” Owen winces. “I had a family emergency.” His arm tightens around me as dread lines my stomach. I’m the family emergency. A shudder rushes through me, and Owen doesn’t miss it. He pulls me against him, his hand stroking gently over my arm.
“Emergency? What about my fucking emergency?”
He exhales heavily. “You’re in good hands with Oscar, Rafael.”
A scoff emits the angry man. “We had a fucking business deal, Owen. This is not how you conduct business.” The venom oozes from him, and Owen’s shoulders tense.
“I have the best men on the job, Rafael.”
“You shirked your fucking responsibilities. For what, huh?”
“None of your fucking business,” he snaps back, and my heart races at the anger pulsating from Owen in waves.
“I want fucking answers, Owen!”
“And you’ll get them. From Oscar,” Owen spits back before ending the call and throwing the phone onto the table, then he drags a hand over his head on a deep exhale. “Fuck!”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
His body instantly relaxes. “Don’t apologize, baby.”
I pull back and meet his gaze. “It’s true.” I wring my T-shirt between my hands. “I’ve ruined so many things, and now I’m affecting your business too.”
“No. You’re worth everything and so much more. It’s not your fault. The blame is solely on me, Laya. I’ve told you before, you’re mine and I will do anything to protect you.” He lifts my chin to face him, and the intensity behind his eyes causes something peculiar to slither through my veins. It’s heated, predatory, and possessive, like a warning or a promise. I’m not quite sure, but it makes me uneasy. “Anything to keep you,” he whispers, and I repress the sliver of doubt edging to get out.
“Where are we getting married?”
He tilts his head to the garden. “Out back. A small ceremony, then anything you want.” He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it.
“Anything?” I lift an eyebrow, and his lip quirks.
“Absolutely.” He nips at my ear, and I giggle, pleased at the change in atmosphere when he chuckles back at me.
Romeo takes this moment to let out a loud cry, which I know to be a Momma, I want my milk cry. Owen lifts me, lets me slide down his front, then pats my ass. “Go feed Romeo. When you’ve finished, check out the spare room. Be ready at 1:00 p.m.” He pats my ass in jest, and I roll my eyes, then bend and unstrap Romeo and head out of the kitchen.
“Love you, baby girl,” he shouts as I leave, and I can’t help but have a spring in my step as I head upstairs.