Chapter 4
4
JADE
In the blink of an eye, we’re back within the confines of the compound walls, waving curt, slightly awkward goodbyes, and walking separately toward our villas when Owen shouts, “Fancy a nightcap?”
I turn to look at his bronzed-by-the-sun face, examining his muscular frame wrapped in his crisp white shirt that struggles to contain his broad shoulders.
He’s freakishly handsome, making my pulse quicken, and I secretly want to fling my legs around his waist and climb his laddered abs that I noticed earlier today.
Bugger. Those thoughts will not do.
“It’s getting late. I have an early start.” My sensible mouth justifies my reasons.
He jerks his head in acknowledgment, pushing one hand into the pocket of his navy dress shorts and the other through his wavy, dirty-blond hair, then disappears in the pool’s direction.
Follow him, Jade .
I tilt my head back and look up into the scattered star-filled night sky. “Aw, screw it.”
I take a step gingerly in his direction, increasing my speed as I go after him.
As I round the corner, he’s behind the bar to the side of our shared private pool, pouring two drinks.
Placing the wine bottle down, never taking his eyes off me, he watches me pull myself onto one of the high stools. With only the sound of the soft rustle of the trees, he slides my drink across the glass bar top.
I swirl the chilled liquid in my fishbowl-sized glass for a few minutes until I can’t bear the silence any longer. “How did you know I would come back? Are you always this confident?” I ask, then take a sip of the crisp wine.
His lips twist into a warm, knowing grin, as he drops ice into his glass to keep it cool from the still-warm air. I expect him to answer me, or at least say something, anything, except he doesn’t. He simply pops two ice cubes into my glass.
“Why did you have to marry?” I blurt out. I have so many questions—for my mother, of course.
Lies, all lies. I’m a nosy bitch who can’t help herself. I need to know everything about him. Now.
The high-pitched buzz of cicadas sings loudly through the heated air as he continues to give me the silent treatment.
I try again. “Did you love her?”
His voice resigned, he replies, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“What do you want to talk about, then?” I arch a brow.
His square jaw sets as he clamps his mouth shut in a stubborn line.
Screw this. “Okay. Great chatting with you.” Taking my drink, I slide off the stool, being careful not to spill my wine, and begin walking back to my villa .
“I didn’t love her,” he declares matter-of-factly. “She didn’t love me, either.”
I stop and spin around at his confession.
“We weren’t marrying for love. It was a business arrangement.” When I meet his gaze, he keeps sharing, surprising me. “She didn’t give us a chance or take the time to get to know me, not that it would have worked, anyway.” He shrugs. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not upset about her not loving me, not even a little. I’m upset about the whole situation; my family expecting me to perform like a puppet for them. It’s ridiculous.”
I don’t react; I wait patiently for him to tell me more.
He blows out a long breath, eyeing me nervously. “No judgment?”
“You’ll not find that here.” I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my own life. I’m in no position to judge.
He nods decisively. “In answer to your question, am I always this confident? I used to be, but now…” His muscles tense. “…I’m not. My mother and father chose my future wife as part of a business deal. Gregor maybe told you, but our family owns one of the largest printworks in Scotland, but it’s a dying industry. Our marriage was designed to strengthen and expand the business between my father and hers. It was a calculated business deal. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“How romantic.” His sad aura is so thick you can feel it. Under his watchful gaze, I reseat myself and pat the stool beside me, inviting him to join.
I slip my bag off and lay it down on the gray patio paving below.
Owen casually walks out from behind the semi-circle bar and pulls a seat closer to me before sitting. Pulling his phone and wallet out of the pockets of his shorts, he lays them side by side on top of the bar .
Now only a few inches apart, I swivel to face him, resting my feet on the footrest of his bar stool, my knees between his widespread legs.
I place my hand on his bare knee that’s covered in soft golden hair and give it a squeeze. “Relax. You can share anything with me.” I smile reassuringly. Discretion is my jam. I’ve become a human vault, filing away all the relationship, career, and life dramas my team members share with me, and I never disclose.
He swallows hard, staring at my hand that’s trying hard to soothe him. “Our marriage was doomed from the beginning. It would never have worked. Marrying her felt like a prison sentence.” He looks off into the distance. “I genuinely thought I could go through with it, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.” He shakes his head, taking a deep breath. “I don’t think I have a job or a home to go back to anymore, either. My mother hated me already, but this time I think I’ve really blown it. She’ll never speak to me again after this.”
I can’t imagine never speaking to Poppy as she grows up. That would break my heart.
He continues. “My mother is all about the show, all for the sake of the business. She wears a mask well to hide the fact she and my father despise each other. I’ve cast a shadow over the family name. They—well, she —will never forgive me for that.” He stops, taking another deep breath, almost as if he is desperate to get out whatever he’s been keeping bottled up. My hand stays rested on his knee, giving it another squeeze, coaxing him to get whatever is eating him up out, loving how soft the hair on his skin feels.
“That business, my job, working for my father… it’s all I know how to do and suddenly I don’t know who I am and I have nothing to get up for in the mornings. ”
Clenching and unclenching his hand around his wineglass, he looks pained when he says, “In the past, my friends have told me I can be selfish.” He looks at me as if waiting for my reaction at that news, only I don’t give him one. I will not judge a situation I know nothing about, or base my opinion on what Gregor has told me about him, either. He continues, “And, according to my ex-girlfriend, who married my best friend, I might add, I wasn’t a very good boyfriend either. So, in the last year, I’ve tried to be a better man. Paid attention to my friends’ lives, been helpful, showed up for people. I’ve been trying to right my wrongs.”
“Do you still love her?” I ask apprehensively.
“Skye? Hell, no,” he scoffs. “As a friend, I do. I love them both equally. They were made for each other. I can see that now. But I am not sure I was ever in love with Skye.”
I adore how mature he is about his best friend marrying his ex-girlfriend.
“Were you and Skye together long?”
“Since high school.”
“Wow.”
“Fourteen years. But most of the time I was a dick to her. How she put up with me, I’ll never know. In fact, scratch that, I do know because I’ve had time to think about this a lot. I think she felt sorry for me.”
“Why?”
Humming as if in thought, he runs his tongue along his pearly white teeth. “I have Mommy and Daddy issues. Let’s just say that growing up wasn’t easy. I also wasn’t honest with Skye from the start. Although she knew my mother would never have allowed us to marry, she stayed with me, and I think that’s why I always held back from her, never fully letting myself be with her. I know I didn’t put in the effort in our relationship, because deep down I knew I would have to marry someone my parents chose for me. My sister is trapped with a man she doesn’t love, and she is utterly miserable.” He fades off. “Christ, my poor sister. She looks so unhappy.” He rubs his hands down his face. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
Rubbing my fingertips across his knee, I nod in acknowledgment.
“You don’t have to tell me anything at all. But I am guessing the Owen I am sitting across from is a new Owen, am I right?”
“I’ve been trying to be a better friend. I think I nailed that, but doing what was expected of me for my family”—his eyes dart around the pool—“every word I spoke, everything I did for my mother, father, Evangeline…”
“Was that her name?” I ask softly. “Evangeline?”
“Yeah.” He sighs, completely deflated, his flat eyes reflecting his feelings. “None of it was good enough for any of my family, especially Evangeline. I wasn’t good enough for her and I’m a dumb fool for believing that I ever could be. Standing at that altar was like awaiting the death penalty, and running away, I thought, was an easy way out. But now I’m here, in Cyprus, with nothing but time on my hands to overthink, it feels like the problems I was running away from are bigger than they were before.” His mouth pulls to the side as he chews the inside of his cheek.
His words fill my heart full of sorrow, every part of me wanting to reassure him it won’t always be this way. He’s important, and he doesn’t have to make hasty choices.
Few men would have the balls to share their innermost secrets with a stranger, but I’m guessing he’s at the lowest point in his life and feels like he has nothing left to hide or lose. He sounds desperate to share, as if no one has ever truly listened to him or given him the right to make his own choices.
“Did you know Evangeline beforehand? ”
“I’ve known her and her family for years. Since we got engaged , I have been trying to get to know her better, make it work. For everyone’s sake.” His voice is low, almost indifferent. He drags his fingers through his hair, his pale eyes crinkling around the sides as if deep in thought. “I found out today she’d been seeing someone else.”
I gasp. “She was cheating on you?”
With a mixture of amusement and disappointment in his voice, he says, “I couldn’t give a shit if she was, because you can’t cheat on someone if you haven’t slept with them, can you? Our relationship was a lie.”
“You guys didn’t have sex before marriage? Do people still do that? How proper and… wow… just wow…” Astounded by this revelation, I drain my glass of wine.
Did Evangeline see Owen? All of him? Really look at him? Because from where I’m sitting, his powerful body looks like it is made for sex and sin, and those biceps are begging to lift one helluva lucky lady into them and to be bounced up and down his?—
I squeeze my thighs together to ease the surge of excitement zapping through my core, wetting my panties.
“She barely spoke to me. I’m certain she would rather boil her own head than touch me. She made it very clear that I was not her type.” His melancholy words interrupt my fantasy.
His smooth fingers slide over mine, where they still rest on his knee. Liking his touch, I don’t pull away.
“What was her type?” I urge, needing to know what Evangeline thought Owen lacked.
“I don’t know, but thank God it wasn’t me.” He shudders. “She’s a cold-blooded reptile in human skin and loves her bitch of a cat more than anyone with two legs, and that cat too…” He waggles his finger in the air. “It’s not an angel, no ma’am. It’s the fu cking devil in white fur. Her evil sidekick. It almost fucking killed me. It gave me an infection. I could have died.” He points to what looks like a red scar in the shape of a bite mark on his hand.
I chuckle. While I don’t know Owen well, I sense a sad and tortured individual when I see one. He hides his lack of self-confidence well, deflecting it with humor.
Despite being crushed, Owen is putting on a brave face and I decide not to push him for more or he might retreat into his mental mancave. So he surprises me when he says, “She said I had an enormous nose.” He draws a straight line down it and then places his hand back on top of mine.
It’s not big at all. In fact, it’s perfect; symmetrical and slightly lifted at the tip.
He becomes a bit more animated. “And I never said the right things. I was either too loud or too quiet. I would offend her if I didn’t say she looked nice, but when I did compliment her, she would change her outfit. I tried organizing date nights, and theater tickets, but she would bring friends along, choosing to spend time with them instead of me. I even wore a baby blue and pink wedding suit for her.” He throws his arms out to his sides as if to say What was I thinking , and I miss the warmth of his hand on mine again.
“Sounds lovely.” I struggle to hide my laughter that’s bubbling like a simmering cauldron in my chest.
“It was embroidered and looked shit.” He gestures to his upper torso and down his arms. “And it had this enormous pink rose over my crotch area.” He makes a bowl shape with his hand and cups his junk.
Laughter like confetti breaks free from my lips, sprinkling warmth into my heart as Owen joins in. At least he can see the funny side .
He points to himself. “Laughingstock. Although you should have seen my two best men. They wore baby pink suits and looked like a pair of giant dildos.”
“I need a picture.”
He ponders for a moment. “I wonder if my friends got one? I’ll have to ask.”
“There may not be any photographic evidence of dildo-suited best men?”
“Such a pity.” He shakes his head, smiling softly. “I put my suit in the trash, or I could have shown you that.”
“You should have worn kilts in your family tartan,” I state.
“That’s what I said.” He throws his hands up to the constellations again. “At least someone has some common sense around here. I felt powerless,” he mumbles, rubbing his hand across his stubble.
“Time to claim back your power, Owen.” His eyes fill with warmth, his shoulders dropping and his face looking less tense. Even the deep V between his eyebrows seems to soften as he grants me what looks like a genuine smile.
“Thank you,” he says.
“For?”
“Making me feel better than I have in days, maybe weeks, months. Who knows?”
“All part of the service,” I reply with one hand on my empty wineglass and the other still on his knee. I’m glad I joined him for a drink. He obviously needed someone to talk to.
“Another?” Owen points to my glass.
I put my hand over the top. “No, thank you. Training tomorrow.”
He tucks a lock of his blonde hair behind his ear. “Discipline, I like it. Did you always want to become a pilot?”
I clear my throat, happy to share. “Since I was ten. My father was in the Air Force, as was my grandfather and my great-great-grandfather, too.”
“Did you feel you had to follow in the family footsteps, or is it something you wanted to do?” he asks, sounding genuinely interested.
Usually in control, I find it hard to concentrate as he begins to draw a figure of eight with his fingertip across my skin.
I reply, “It’s something I have always wanted to do. I love it.” My whole body lights up. I feel it every time I talk about my job, and with him touching me the way he is, my entire body is burning for more. Contently, I sigh. “When it’s just you, the aircraft, how it responds to you, it’s intense and nothing comes close to how exhilarating it is. When I sit inside that cockpit, everything changes. I just focus on the mission and what I need to do next. Maintain a cool head, make split decisions under pressure if I have to.” My voice is dreamy. “I focus on flying and leave my personal problems on the ground.” I almost whisper my last words as his fingers move up my thigh.
“Do you have problems, Jade?” He waits several seconds and when I don’t reply, he says, “I hope you don’t mind, but I asked Gregor if you were in a relationship.”
My heart jumps at his unexpected question.
Owen confesses quietly, “He told me you’d broken up with Poppy’s father. He also said your ex is a bit of a douchebag.” His face is serious, and his eyes stay glued to mine.
My forehead tightens in a scowl when I think about my ex. “No judgment?” I ask the same question he asked me.
He shakes his head slowly. “None.”
“Until I had Poppy, I didn’t have any problems. But now, every decision I make, from childcare to my next career move, they all feel like problems. It was just me before. I had no one else to think about. But now…” I can’t hide my emotions, my voice thick with love. “She’s all I can think about.”
Unsure why I am opening up to a stranger, I babble my innermost thoughts that have been playing havoc with me. “Lately, I can’t stop thinking about the safety of my job. What happens if I make an error? What happens if the aircraft fails? Who would look after Poppy? Michael? I don’t think so,” I scoff, forgetting who I am speaking to for a moment.
“Michael?” Owen questions.
“That’s my ex’s name. Poppy’s father,” I whisper, ashamed I couldn’t make it work between us.
He nods. “Does he not see her?” His eyes fill with sadness.
I avert my gaze across to the pool that’s lit up like a blue lagoon. “Oh, he can see her. He just doesn’t want to. He’s not interested.”
“Well, that’s a damn shame, because she’s super cute.”
My heart flutters. “She is.”
“She looks like you.”
“Poor girl. She’ll have to spend her life in the shade. Red hair and pale skin are not fun in the sun.”
“She’ll still shine the brightest. Just like you.”
My breathing stalls when he places a knuckle under my chin.
He’s a mere millimeter away from my lips, and his hot breath ghosts my skin. Every part of me wants him to kiss me. It’s been so long since I’ve been intimate with anyone.
This is the first night I’ve been out since I had Poppy, and it’s not exactly what I had planned, but I like how Owen makes me feel. I can’t explain why I feel drawn to him like a magnet. I can’t seem to pull myself away. Almost as if I’ve met or known him before. It’s a strange sensation in my chest that I can’t make sense of .
“Wanna do something reckless?” His hot-with-desire pupils dilate.
“Like what?” I ask.
The pad of his thumb dusts my lips. His touch is the spark needed to light the embers, allowing it to spread through my body like an out-of-control forest fire.
“This.” He loops his arms firmly around my waist, throwing me into the air at speed as he stands.
Alarmed, I shriek.
“Hold on.” Owen squeezes his arms around my waist, reassuring me that I’m safe with him.
I do as he says and lace my arms around his neck and my legs around his hips.
Without hesitation, he’s running in the pool’s direction, carrying me as if I’m as light as a helium balloon.
“Hold your breath,” he cries.
Oh shit.