Chapter 5 Owen
OWEN
If lust had a sound, it would be the click of Tessa Hartley’s heels on the concrete floor of Mosaic’s office.
It’s a specific sound. Click-click-click.
Every time I hear it, my body betrays me. My head snaps up. My pulse spikes. And my productivity takes a nosedive.
“You’re doing it again,” Asher says without looking up from his laptop.
I spin my chair around. We’re in the ‘War Room’, a glass-walled conference room we’ve commandeered for the final sprint before the beta launch. The table is littered with empty coffee cups, protein bar wrappers, and schematics.
“Doing what?” I ask innocently, leaning back and lacing my fingers behind my head.
“Staring at the door like a golden retriever waiting for its owner to come home,” Asher deadpans. He types a line of code, hits enter with a decisive thwack, and finally looks at me. His blue eyes are bloodshot. We’ve all been averaging four hours of sleep this week. “It’s pathetic.”
“It’s not pathetic. It’s vigilant management,” I counter. “I’m monitoring team morale.”
“You’re monitoring her legs,” Ethan grunts from the head of the table.
He doesn’t look up either. He’s reviewing legal contracts, marking them up with a red pen that looks suspiciously like he’s stabbing the paper. Ethan has been in a mood all week. A dark, brooding, terrifying mood that has sent three junior developers crying into the break room.
And I know exactly why.
It’s been five days since Tessa started. Five days of being “strictly professional.” And god, she is making it hard.
She’s good. That’s the problem. If she were incompetent, it would be easy to ignore her.
But she’s brilliant. She plugged the biggest holes in our launch strategy in forty-eight hours, charmed the design team into working overtime without complaining, and even got Asher speaking in full sentences during the Wednesday stand-up.
She fits in, like a missing puzzle piece we didn’t know we lost.
And she looks incredible doing it. Every day, she wears these “office appropriate” outfits—pencil skirts, tailored trousers, silk blouses—that somehow manage to be sexier than the red slip dress. Maybe because now, I know exactly what she’s capable of.
Click-click-click.
The sound gets louder. Passing the glass wall of the conference room. I can’t help myself. I look.
Tessa walks by, holding a stack of files. She’s wearing a forest green dress today. It’s modest, high-necked, but it hugs her waist and flares at the hips. She’s laughing at something Sarah is saying.
Her laugh is muffled by the glass, but I can practically feel the hum of it in my chest.
Ethan’s pen snaps.
A loud crack echoes in the quiet room. I look at him. He’s staring at the broken plastic in his hand, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle is jumping in his cheek. He tosses the pieces into the trash.
“This is ridiculous,” I announce, standing up.
“Sit down, Owen,” Ethan warns.
“No. We’ve been stuck in this fishbowl for six hours. I need food. Real food. Not…” I gesture to the protein bar wrapper on the table. “… compressed sawdust.”
“We have work to do,” Ethan says.
“And we can’t do it if we’re dead,” I argue. I button my suit jacket, checking my reflection in the glass. “I’m going to lunch. And I’m taking the Brand Lead with me.”
Ethan goes still. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s busy,” Ethan says through gritted teeth. “And because I know you. You aren’t taking her to discuss branding. You’re taking her to flirt.”
“I’m insulted,” I say, placing a hand over my heart. “I’m going to discuss the… uh… the guerilla marketing campaign for the launch party. It requires a nuanced, face-to-face brainstorming session.”
“Owen,” Ethan growls. “Leave her alone.”
“She’s an employee, Ethan,” I say, my voice dropping, losing the playful edge. “Employees eat lunch. Or are you going to order her to eat a salad at her desk again? Because I heard about that. Not your best moment, really.”
Ethan flinches slightly. He looks down at his papers. “I was ensuring she maintained blood sugar levels.”
“Right. Very altruistic.” I grab my phone. “I’m taking her to Perla’s. The seafood place. It’s public. It’s professional. And it has the best oysters in the city.”
“Oysters,” Asher mutters. “Aphrodisiacs. Subtle.”
I flash a crooked smile. “I don’t do subtle, Ash. You know that.”
“One hour,” Ethan says, his voice cold. He refuses to look at me. “If you aren’t back in sixty minutes, I’m locking her access card.”
“You’re a tyrant, E,” I grin. “But a lovable one.”
I leave the War Room before he changes his mind.
I find her at the printer.
It’s the big industrial one in the hallway that jams if you even look at it wrong. Tessa is frowning at the control panel, tapping a button with a manicured fingernail.
“It smells your fear,” I say, leaning against the wall behind her.
She jumps, spinning around. Her eyes go wide, then soften when she sees it’s me.
“Owen,” she breathes out. “You guys really need to stop sneaking up on me. Is it a requirement for the ‘Phantom Trio’? Stealth training?”
“Part of the package,” I smirk, invading her personal space until I’m inches from her skin, close enough to drown in that sweet, dark scent. It’s driving me insane. “What did the printer do to you?”
“It’s holding the vendor contracts hostage. It says ‘PC Load Letter.’ I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means it hates you.” I reach past her, my chest brushing her shoulder, and open the paper tray. I jiggle the stack of paper and slam it shut. The machine whirs to life happily.
“There,” I say. “You just have to be firm with it.”
Tessa looks at the machine, then up at me. Her hazel eyes are bright, flecked with gold in the harsh office light. “You have the magic touch.”
“I do,” I murmur, letting the words hang between us. “I have a proposition for you, Ms. Hartley.”
She stiffens slightly, her guard going up. “A proposition?”
“Lunch.”
“I brought a sandwich,” she says immediately. “Turkey and Swiss. It’s very exciting.”
“Turkey and Swiss is a tragedy, not a lunch,” I counter. “I’m going to Perla’s. I need a second opinion on the launch party appetizers. And since you are the expert on all things ‘brand experience,’ your input is required.”
She narrows her eyes. “Is this actually about appetizers? Or is this you being bored and wanting an audience?”
“Ouch,” I laugh. “I can be two things. But seriously, Tess. We need to talk about the launch. We’ve been avoiding each other all week.”
“We haven’t been avoiding each other,” she lies. “We’ve been working.”
“We’ve been dancing,” I correct her. “And I’m getting dizzy. Come on. One hour. Strictly business. I promise I won’t make a single inappropriate joke.”
She bites her lip, considering my offer.
“Strictly business?” she asks.
“On my honor as a company founder.”
“Okay,” she sighs, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “But if you make me late getting back, I’m blaming you when Ethan yells.”
“Deal.”
“I’m driving,” I announce as the elevator doors slide open to the cool concrete of the parking garage.
“Of course you are,” Tessa replies, adjusting her purse strap on her shoulder. “Let me guess. A Porsche? A Ferrari?”
“A Tesla,” I correct, clicking the fob. My sleek black Model S in the corner chirps, the retractable handles sliding out automatically. “We’re a tech company, Tess. We have to stay on brand.”
I open the passenger door for her. It’s a gentlemanly gesture, but I use it as an excuse to watch her. I watch the way the green dress rides up her thighs as she slides into the low leather seat. I watch the way she tucks her legs in.
“Nice interior,” she says as I slide into the driver’s side.
The car usually smells of sandalwood and leather, but suddenly, it’s drowning in her. That dark, sweet scent is everywhere. It’s intimate in here. Too intimate.
“It drives itself,” I say, tapping the destination into the massive touchscreen.
“Which is good, because I’m barely awake,” she admits, leaning her head back against the headrest. “Ethan said you guys have been sleeping in the office.”
“Ethan is the office,” I sigh, backing out of the spot. “He doesn’t understand the concept of rest. He thinks sleep is a bug in the human operating system that needs to be patched.”
“And Asher?”
“Asher sleeps,” I say, merging onto the street and letting the car handle the stop-and-go traffic. “But only in twenty-minute bursts. Like a dolphin. Or a psychopath.”
Tessa laughs. It’s a real, unguarded sound that makes the tension in my chest loosen slightly.
“You guys are… a lot,” she says, turning to look at me. “I always knew you were smart—the story about Asher taking apart the toaster when he was ten is practically a legend—but this… Mosaic is something else.”
I glance at her. The sunlight is hitting her profile, lighting up the stray strands of red-gold hair that have escaped her bun. She looks beautiful.
“It has to be,” I say, my voice dropping. “We bet everything on this, Tess. Every cent we had, our reputations, our sanity. If this launch fails, we don’t just lose money. We lose the only thing we’ve ever built. And we aren’t allowed to fail.”
“Who says?” she asks softly. “Your parents?” My jaw tightens.
“Our parents couldn’t care less. It’s Ethan. And me. Mostly Ethan.”
I reach over to adjust the air conditioning, letting my hand brush her knee for a fleeting second. The heat of her skin burns through the fabric of her dress. She doesn’t pull away. In fact, she leans into the touch, just a fraction.
“That’s why he’s so hard on you,” I add quietly. “He’s terrified because you’re the only thing in his life he can’t control.”
“I doubt that,” she says, looking out the window as the Austin skyline blurs by. “He seems perfectly in control to me.”
“You’d be surprised,” I murmur.