CHAPTER 16
Owen
Isquinted when the sunset hit me in the face as I followed the small path toward the back of the Society’s property. Admittedly, I was late. I should’ve headed over shortly after leaving the condo, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I needed some time alone. I needed to sit with my thoughts.
Unfortunately, my thoughts had proven to be painfully one-track all day.
Liam.
Liam asleep and curled around the pillow. Liam smiling in that soft, half-awake way that had no business finding a permanent residence in my head. Liam waking up alone. Liam reading the note I’d left behind. Liam finding the watch I’d had no business giving him.
My jaw ticked, and my fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
I’d spent the better part of the day attempting to convince myself that I was being ridiculous.
I’d gone for a run and doubled up on my distance to wear myself out.
I’d reorganized my kitchen cabinets for reasons I still couldn’t explain, other than it kept me busy.
I’d stood in my shower so long the water had gone cold.
None of it helped. Every quiet moment I created inevitably circled right back to him.
To the way he looked at me.
To the way he’d said I really like you with that soft, sleepy voice of his.
To the way I’d kissed him when I absolutely, unquestionably should not have.
I exhaled slowly through my nose as I rolled to a stop in front of Vincent’s house. In all my years as an Architect, I’d never once faltered in my duties or my approach. I’d never once delayed a debrief.
Vincent would notice. Hell, Vincent noticed everything. And the worst part? I didn’t know how to explain my behavior if he asked—when he asked. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about him’ wasn’t an acceptable answer.
And it certainly would not keep me my job.
The front door flew open before I could knock, and Elena stood on the other side with a warm smile. She was comfortably dressed in an oversized sweater and leggings. Even her socks were fluffy and practically came up to her knees.
“Owen!” she exclaimed as a way of greeting. “We were starting to think you weren’t coming.”
Her presence was a surprise, but I concealed it. While Vincent and Elena had a platonic marriage that I couldn’t begin to understand, she didn’t often stay at his house. She had her own place in the city, but she also spent quite a bit of time traveling the world. I rarely saw her here.
“It’s good to see you,” I said with a smile. There was no getting into the house without hugging her first—that was just who she was. I kept it brief, bending down to give her a proper hug and letting her slip her arm through mine the moment we pulled back. “Are you staying long?”
“Not this time,” she replied. I followed as she steered me right toward Vincent’s office. “Would you like to join us for dinner?”
“I doubt it, but thank you for the invitation.”
“You’re welcome anytime, Owen.”
“Thank you.”
We stopped outside the open door to his office. Vincent sat behind his desk, completely at ease, as if I hadn’t kept him waiting all day. There were papers scattered across his desk, and quiet music filled the space. He shut it off the minute he saw me. Elena left while I entered the room.
“I was beginning to think I wouldn’t see you today,” Vincent said as he gestured to the chair across from his desk. I took a seat and made myself visibly comfortable, hopeful he wouldn’t notice my inner turmoil.
“I apologize for being late.”
“You’re never late, Owen.”
“I know.” There wasn’t much I could say about it—wasn’t an explanation that would help.
“Are you all right?” he asked. The genuine concern in his voice incited a low ache of guilt in my core because he did care. There was never a doubt of that. My blatant difficulty with this experience felt something like betrayal.
“I’m all right,” I reassured. “It has nothing to do with the experience.”
It had everything to do with my inability to let a man go.
“And did everything go as you planned?”
“It did,” I said. I gave him the briefest summary of the experience, doing my best to keep it clinical and unattached. I included all the usual details to make sure he was informed. He heard me out, giving me the space to go through everything like the checklist I’d prepared.
“Hmm.” Vincent leaned back in his chair.
His dark eyes held mine with an indescribable intensity that only he could manage.
His ability to read people with a frightening kind of precision was something I had never fully understood.
He somehow managed to peel through all the carefully arranged masks they wore, all while never saying a word.
Usually, I admired him for it. But at that moment, I hated every second of it.
I didn’t want him to call me out for the things I already knew were issues.
The silence between us stretched on, palpable and uncomfortable. I had the distinct feeling that he was simply waiting for me to break first. For me to spill all the dark secrets festering in my mind. To lay out the unhealthy obsession I had with a man who had hired us.
“All right then,” Vincent said finally, breaking the tension.
His demeanor changed, easing into something casual as he smiled.
“I have Mr. Baker’s after-experience report.
He was satisfied with everything overall, so…
job well done. The clean-up crew has already started to sanitize everything, Ares has been squared away, and here we are. ”
“Good,” I murmured with a slight nod. I fell silent as I watched him rearrange things on his desk and pull out a manila envelope.
“Your payment has already been deposited into your account.”
“Thank you.” I wasn’t worried about that.
“Elena and I are taking advantage of the quiet period by traveling for a little bit,” he told me.
Leaning across the desk, he handed it to me.
My name was scrawled in his handwriting across the front.
I frowned as I accepted it because it was out of the norm for these kinds of meetings.
While his traveling wasn’t unheard of, it never came with an envelope.
“This is for you. Open it up in a few weeks. I won’t be here, but it’ll make more sense. I promise.”
“You’re being cryptic, Vinnie,” I said.
“Isn’t that what I do best?” he countered. “It’s Society maintenance, Owen. It’s nothing to stress over. As I said, it’ll make more sense in a few weeks.”
“Right.” That wasn’t ominous at all. I glanced at the envelope once more.
“Relax, Owen. Don’t overthink it.” Vincent stood, and I followed suit, recognizing the end to our conversation. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner? We’re trying out a Greek recipe Elle found online.”
“As tempting as that sounds,” I began with a laugh, “I’m not nearly as experimental with food as you two are.”
I’d learned that lesson the hard way. My tastes weren’t nearly as curious as theirs were. That, and I didn’t trust viral recipes the way they did.
“Fair enough,” he conceded. He walked me out, stopping only long enough for me to say goodbye to Elena—a feat that took way longer than it needed to because she tried hard to rope me into their food adventure.
The more excited she got, the harder it became to turn her down.
I almost caved, but Vincent came to my rescue and ushered me out of the house.
The envelope taunted me as I sat in my car. It was such an out-of-character thing for him to do. I had no doubts that it had to do with Society maintenance. Vincent wouldn’t lie to me. But what that was bothered me.
Despite the instruction to wait a few weeks, I tore open the flap. A few weeks wasn’t specific enough, and I’d stick to that. Inside was a single-page letter in Vincent’s handwriting.
Owen,
The Black Silk Society is built on one simple truth: people rarely ask for what they truly need. It is the first lesson I teach my Architects. It is the first thing I ask you to anticipate with every experience.
For years, you have understood that better than anyone.
You have looked beyond requests and listened to things our clients have left unsaid.
You recognized grief, longing, fear, and hope hidden beneath carefully chosen words.
You gave our clients the things they did not know how to ask for, and in doing so, you have changed lives here.
But somewhere along the way, you have forgotten something: Architects are not exempt from the very things they build for others. They are not exempt from the desires and needs they meet.
You have spent years teaching people that they deserve to be seen, to be cared for, and to be chosen without condition.
You have orchestrated extraordinary experiences and devoted yourself entirely to the needs and wants of others.
And in the process, you became far too comfortable with ignoring your own.
It was only a matter of time before someone reminded you that you are allowed to want something in return.
I wish the very best that life has to offer you, and I do hope our paths will cross once more in the future.
You will always have a home in the Society should you need it. Both of you.
—Vincent
I stared at the letter, my frown deepening with every paragraph. With the letter was a sizable check—the kind that would set me up for life and then some. Except it made no sense.
Was he firing me?
No. There was no way Vincent would do that through a letter… would he?
My gaze snagged on the final line. Both of you. The words were a sucker punch to the gut. For a moment, I simply stared at them. I read them once. And then twice. And then a third time. I kept re-reading them as if they’d somehow change the longer I stared.
Both of you.
Not you.
Not Owen.
Both.
With each re-read, a knot grew heavy and uncomfortable in my stomach. For all my attempts to make this obsession not a thing, Vincent knew. I didn’t know how, but he did.
How much did he know? Did he know about my obsession? My inability to let him go? The way I faltered and invested too much? Or maybe the way I went above and beyond—far beyond the Society standard?
I drew in a sharp breath. Anger flared hot beneath my skin as the shock faded abruptly.
The absolute audacity.
He’d sat across from me in his office without saying a word. Instead, he left me with a severance letter and instructions to read it in a few weeks when he wouldn’t be around.
The fucking audacity.
There was no way in hell I was just going to walk away from the Society without some kind of explanation. Getting out of the car, I stormed right back up the walkway and into his house.