Owen (The Billionaire Boys #3)

Chapter 1

1

OWEN

“You’ve turned a funny color. Are you okay?” My lifelong friend and best man, Lincoln, straightens my pink silk tie.

“It’s too tight.” I’m almost wheezing as I hook my finger inside the neckline of my baby blue dress shirt and arch my neck in an attempt to loosen it. I’m pretty sure it’s self-tightening and trying to strangle me to death. I can’t seem to catch my breath since I put the stupid fucking thing on.

Today is my wedding day.

Wedding day. Pfft.

It’s supposed to be the happiest day of my life, but all I can think about is ripping off this stupid outfit I’ve been forced to wear by my future wife, Evangeline, and my mother, and tell them both where to shove it.

They didn’t even let me wear a kilt. I’m a Scotsman. By rights, on my wedding day, that’s exactly what I should be wearing.

But oh no, a kilt wasn’t good enough for Evangeline. I had to wear a blue and pink embroidered floral suit, made by some designer prick, specially commissioned for Daddy’s little princess.

Whatever Evangeline wants, Evangeline gets.

She never wants me to touch her, so I don’t.

She never wants me to kiss her, so I don’t.

She flinches when I so much as brush against her by mistake, making everything we do together awkward.

If I try to make conversation with her, she chastises me. Mocking me every chance she gets, telling me how stupid I am.

Considering I’ve put up with my mother’s verbal attacks since I was a child, you’d think I would be used to them by now, only I’m not and never will be. Each vicious word out of Evangeline’s mouth is like another lash of a whip, opening old emotional wounds, each one cutting deeper than the last.

Playing the “good boy” just as my mother instructed, I’ve put in all the effort, with Evangeline’s family, her friends, even her stupid Persian cat, Angel.

Believe me, that cat is no angel. It may be all white fur and innocent face but once I move into the new house, it is going to claw me to death in my sleep. I bet it’s made a How to Kill Owen Plan . I just know it has. It’s already had me at the doctors after it bit me, giving me an infection.

Angel is going to kill me off, limb by fucking limb. Just wait and see.

But the killer cat is the least of my problems.

I’ve tried to make this ridiculous farce of a relationship work for our families. God, have I tried hard.

I even grew my hair longer for her because she said I would look better. Although that’s not what she said; her exact words were, “It’ll distract people from your enormous nose . ” What the fuck is wrong with my nose? Oh, I know, absolutely nothing. It’s my entire face she can’t stand looking at .

Knowing how much I messed up with Skye, my now ex-girlfriend since high school, I don’t want to do that again. I was completely unaware of what a shitty boyfriend I was until Skye “informed” me. Apparently, I let her down time and time again. Once I knew though, I made a vow to myself to try harder, do better, and be the man I should be for my soon-to-be wife.

I may have lost Skye, but my other best friend, Jacob, knew exactly how to be the man she needed. He stepped up and loves Skye with every bone in his body.

I’m not jealous of them. We were never meant to be. But I am envious of what they have together.

I want love like that.

Love that runs so deep through your veins that you can’t think or see straight without it.

Lincoln has that with Violet, and now Jacob with Skye.

Then there is me.

I’m the fuck up in our trifecta. So, at the age of thirty-one, I’m standing in a floral wedding suit, looking like a prize prick, as if waiting to be summoned to the gallows for execution, to marry someone who can’t even bear to look at me. My heart is breaking for a love I’m never going to find and a life that I don’t want. Death by an unhappy marriage .

Yet, through it all, I must put on a show. I will not let anyone see how destroyed I feel.

On the outside, I’m good old jokey Owen, while on the inside, I’m fucking dying.

My body may give out from all the stress that led up to today, because of all the effort I’ve put into making this relationship work: asking Evangeline out on dates, taking her to fancy restaurants, shopping trips, cocktails on my father’s new yacht with her fancy-pants, stuck-up friends. She’s insufferable, moody, and, trust me, I know that at only twenty-one, and ten years my junior, she’s still a child, but she’s truly a brat. And not in the submissive kind of way I might enjoy. Oh no, she’s a full-on immature kid who is every inch the spoiled little princess her parents allowed her to be.

Nothing I’ve done for her, and I mean none of it, has been or ever will be good enough.

I’m not good enough.

Something my mother has told me every day since I was born.

So it must be true, right?

My heart feels like it’s being eviscerated by the devil’s claw as sharp shooting pains rip through my chest, forcing me to bend at the waist while I suck in ragged breaths to ease the discomfort.

Lincoln and Jacob are on either side of me, patting my back, telling me that I’m going to be okay.

Only, I’m not okay.

I don’t know how the hell I’m going to get through today, or the rest of my life for that matter.

Being around Evangeline is deeply unpleasant, and tomorrow we move into a house her father bought for us.

How can I live with someone who hates me?

Someone who doesn’t know a thing about me?

Because she’s never taken the time to ask.

We’re simply doing as we’re told. Our whole lives are being dictated.

And our parents are the ultimate puppet masters.

What the fuck am I doing?

Every millisecond leading up to this day has made my heart beat slower and, with each decision taken on my behalf, “for the good of the family,” a little more of my soul dies. Marrying Evangeline is simply the icing on the shit-cake that comes from being born a Brodie.

I’ve always wanted to marry for love, and we definitely don’t love each other.

This wedding is a complete sham.

A facade.

We are being forced to marry one another to “strengthen and unite our families”… apparently.

Build an empire, bring more Brodie children into the world to carry on the screwed-up legacy. Although, I’m not sure how that will happen when she won’t even let me hold her hand. Something I’m sure our parents haven’t considered in their grand plan.

Evangeline’s family are millionaires, mine are billionaires. Joined through our marriage, our fathers will work together, strike deals, and become the largest printing house in the United Kingdom, printing every newspaper, magazine, and comic strip. My dad has plans to go international and add an indie author publishing arm to the business, and, he informs me, the only way we can do that is through Evangeline’s father’s contacts. He’s well connected and has already started negotiations, but doesn’t have the funds to make it happen. That’s where we come in. He scratches our back, we scratch his.

So, for today… for the rest of my life… and for my family’s sake, I have to fake it and push my heartbreak so far down it’ll rot me from the inside out.

She doesn’t love me.

I don’t love her.

But we’ll pretend we are so deeply in love… for the sake of the family, because I was raised to fulfill their expectations without question.

God, I feel sick .

Within the side room of the church, Lincoln and Jacob help me regain my composure and then try to distract me by laughing and joking around, but I’m lost in my own thoughts, remembering a conversation with my mother earlier as we neared the church.

“She’s from great stock,” she informed me, with her bitter tone and filler-filled face, reminding me, yet again, of the terms of my marriage. She made Evangeline sound like a fucking piece of meat.

Is this what Evangeline wants? To be sold to the highest bidder like a fine painting at an art auction?

I know I certainly never wanted this life.

I feel more nauseous every minute the hand on the clock gets closer to the ceremony.

To be the perfect fiancé, I’ve been faithful to Evangeline since they announced our engagement, and I’ve thrown myself into work while my bride-to-be planned the “wedding of the year”.

A whole year and no pussy.

This wedding won’t break my dry spell either.

I shudder at the thought of consummating our marriage. Don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful. Long dark hair and killer legs, with deep hazel eyes that are so dark, they are like a black hole, sucking your soul. Except her beauty is all superficial. Skin deep. That girl is fucking miserable to the core.

Black heart, black soul, and not an ounce of compassion or love for anyone other than herself.

She’ll probably tell me I’m shit in bed and to hurry up. She’s a bossy bitch, with more emphasis on the bitch part.

My mind wanders down a dark path as I think about my future with her… imagining what our life together will look like .

There’ll be no date nights, laughter-filled vacations, or even hand-in-hand walks along the beach.

She looks at me like I spoiled her whole day by simply breathing the same air she does, and I can’t see that changing when we’re married.

She radiates “fuck off and leave me alone” vibes. Even more so than my mother does, and she is the most emotionally detached person I know.

My heart plunges a little deeper into my chest when the enormity of today sinks in.

My life is heading in the same direction as my parents’. Two people who tolerate each other, only having sex to breed heirs. Two people who otherwise have separate lives, separate bedrooms, vacations, and even meals.

They hate each other.

A mirror image of their lives is not something I want.

I can’t do this.

“Yes, you can,” Lincoln reassures me.

Shit, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I push my shoulders back, pulling fresh air into my lungs.

Facing me, he brushes the fabric across my shoulders, then grabs my upper arms in a firm grip. “You’ve been telling us this is what you want for the last year, and it’s all going to be okay.” A deep V forms between his brows, now doubting my words. “I’m sure you’ll be fine once you’re at the altar saying your vows.” Lincoln tries to bolster me, but it doesn’t work.

I might vomit or have a heart attack. Either option would be good to save me from this horror.

Lincoln stands back, using his pointer finger to motion up and down my outfit. “One thing’s for sure. We can have a good laugh at the wedding photos afterward. Your suit is fucking hideous. ”

Jacob stands shoulder to shoulder with Lincoln, chuckling as they both eye me. “We should hang you up on a wall in your parents’ castle. You’ll look right at home beside the tapestries in the foyer.”

“Oh, fuck off.” I roll my eyes and shove my hands into my pant pockets.

Lincoln punches my shoulder. “It’s just as well you’re a handsome fucker.”

“You look like a human Ken doll. Model material.” Jacob throws me a wink.

I let out a heavy sigh. “You two are really fucking enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“You don’t have to go through with this, Owen.” Jacob’s face drops, his deep frown letting me know how concerned he is for me, too. “I told you to cut all ties and find someone who loves you and who you love back. You should have put a stop to this months ago.”

Lincoln folds his arms across his body and stands wide. “I know you said it’s what you wanted, and we support you. We really do, but it all seems so archaic. Who the fuck marries out of convenience these days? It’s barbaric, Owen. They shouldn’t be making you do this.”

And yet, they are.

Usually the one to be told to shut up, today I’m at a loss for words. I don’t know how to respond.

“Well, at least I don’t look like pink blancmange,” I joke, taking the piss out of their equally dreadful outfits, ignoring the fact my blood is rushing through my veins at supersonic speed, making my heart race even faster.

“I’d like to think of us as two oversized pink cotton candies. We look cute,” Lincoln replies sarcastically.

“You look like a pair of dildos,” I mutter, deadpan .

Jacob looks down at his outfit, then Lincoln’s. “We fucking do. But neither of us is getting fucked up the ass. You, on the other hand, are getting fucked up the ass by this farce of a marriage. So, is this it? Live unhappily with the ice queen forever?” The timbre in his voice takes on a serious tone.

On more than several occasions, Jacob and Lincoln have tried to talk me out of marrying Evangeline.

I know they are only trying to protect me because they love me, but they don’t understand the implications if I don’t marry her.

I remember how my stomach turned when my mother made the terms of our marriage more than clear. I’ll lose my inheritance, my home, my car, my job… everything.

As if reading my thoughts, Lincoln says, “It’s all materialistic shit. You know that, right? Cars and houses are replaceable. Love and happiness, no amount of money can buy those. You only get one life and you’re choosing to live yours in a miserable, loveless marriage.”

“I know,” I whisper.

“It’s not too late to pull out of this, Owen.” Lincoln plonks himself down in the wooden chair behind him. “You’re braver than I am. I couldn’t do what you’re doing.”

I don’t feel the least bit brave, Lincoln.

“Do you have savings? Stashed away somewhere your parents can’t find it?” Jacob questions.

I nod my head slowly. I have the trust money I received when I turned twenty-one, so I have millions in savings. I made sure I put that somewhere my mother and father would never find it… in an overseas account.

“So what the fuck are you doing here, then?”

Not wanting to reply, I shake my head.

“Owen?” Jacob pushes me for an answer .

I pace back and forth as my friends finally ask the questions that need to be answered.

“Because I’ve never been good enough,” I blurt out. “In the eyes of my family, I am not worthy of anyone’s time. I’m the fool. The spoiled boy who gets what he wants, regardless.” I poke myself in the chest. “All I ever wanted to do was to make my mother happy. But not even the first-class degree I got, the contracts I win at work, or that I work longer hours than anyone else at my father’s business wins her affection. For once, I thought, just maybe, this”—I point to the door, referencing the wedding ceremony about to take place and the hundreds of guests waiting, all seated in the wooden pews of the giant church—“would make her love me. Do what she asks of me. Help to strengthen the business. Maybe then I’ll be worthy of her love. Just maybe if… if… if I do this… carry on the Brodie empire, do as I’m told…” I pant, gasping for breath like a fish out of water.

My friends look at me like I’ve grown two heads, then Lincoln says, “Owen, believe me when I say this, and I know this from experience. No matter what I did in my past, or do in my future, it will never change the way my mother feels about me. She abandoned me when I was a baby, and there was nothing me or my father could have done to change that. Instead, I learned to accept her decision, knowing her issues are not a reflection of me. I feel so much better for it.” Lincoln pulls himself to his feet and steps in my direction. “You can’t do this just because you think this will make her love you. Her shit is her shit. Let her deal with that.”

Fuck, I might cry, and I never cry.

“Lincoln’s right. Your mother married your father as part of an agreement. You told us they’re miserable together, Owen. So are your sister and her husband. Is that what you want? To be unhappy, stuck in a loveless marriage?”

As I go to reply, the wooden door flies open, creaking as it does, and a chirpy, smiling wedding organizer informs us it’s time to make our way to the altar.

Ignoring my friends, I storm past them, hoping they get the message to follow.

I can’t face this conversation. It’s too late to walk away now, anyway.

It’s time to seal my future.

Face to face, I stare at my future wife.

Her stern, almost impassive features show no emotion.

Lincoln and Jacob’s words swim around my head, and I realize they’re right.

I’m going to spend every day and night fighting, wrestling, and arguing with my wife: how many times a week we should have sex, how many kids we should have to satisfy our parents, and then we’ll end up living in separate wings of that fucking ridiculously oversized house her father bought us. I don’t want to live like that, and I sure as hell don’t want to bring kids into a life like that… a life I’ve endured for thirty-one years.

A sharp ringing in my ears deafens me. As if I’m wearing noise-canceling headphones, the minister’s voice becomes muffled as the onset of what I am pretty sure is a panic attack takes hold.

Evangeline’s mouth moves, but I can’t hear what she’s saying.

She stiffly holds her hand out. On autopilot, I take it, noticing my touch makes her nostrils flare .

She hates me.

I glance over my shoulder at my two best men. They look at me with concern and sympathy.

Where is all the happiness and laughter? The all-consuming feeling of love and joy?

I want the one . The one you simply can’t survive without.

I fucking want that.

Looking back at Evangeline, I know she’s not happy.

I’m not happy.

My boys are right; no matter what I do, I will never make my mother happy either.

It’s a lose-lose situation.

“I can’t do this.” I release her hand and step back as a look of utter horror washes over Evangeline’s face.

I hear the gasps of shock and the murmur of low voices throughout the guests.

I take another step back, straighten my hideous suit jacket, and turn to face the crowded church.

I eye Lincoln, then Jacob, who are both standing taller and prouder, looking at me with admiration on their faces, and when Jacob mouths “ Run ,” man do I run.

Past the unbelieving crowd.

Past my mother shouting at me.

Past my father, whose roaring echoes of disappointment follow me out.

I flag down a cab and jump into it, heading to the hotel to pick up my suitcases; the hotel we were supposed to be staying in tonight.

Within minutes, I’m back in the waiting cab with enough clothes to last me a couple of weeks, along with my passport, wallet, and phone .

“Where to now, big man?” asks the broad-accented Scottish taxi driver.

“Airport,” I answer with no idea where I will end up and no plan for my future.

All I do know is that I feel better than I have in months.

Lighter, happier, and able to breathe again.

Then it hits me.

The life I’m walking away from.

The billions I was due to inherit.

Fuck.

I begin to sweat.

Oh shit, what have I done?