“Is that so wrong?”
I frown. Is that what Nate’s doing? Is that what I’m doing? I’m not brave enough to have that conversation. Today’s been hard enough.
“You can’t know for sure, Viv. Wait’ll the cards play out. They always do. In the meantime…” He gestures to either his golden-brown chest, which is a lickable sight, or the sun-and-water backdrop.
“You’re irritatingly well-rounded. Where did you learn healthy boundaries, anyway? Wait”—I hold up a hand—“Let me guess. The Owens.”
“A combination of the Owens and my actual parents. They had no boundaries or scruples. That was just as valuable a way to learn how to have them as what the Owens taught me.”
I huff a frustrated breath at his pragmatism. He’s hard to argue with when he’s sensible. “Do you worry about Asher and Benji?”
His face pinches. “Why?”
I can’t help laughing. He’s such a man. “They seem…stunted. Benji and his girlfriend du jour. Archer has adopted scowling as his life partner.”
I earn a half smile for my observations.
“Benji is charismatic. You’ll learn that as you’re around him more.”
“And Cris? Does he not notice her watching him like a lovestruck hawk?”
“Don’t go there,” he warns. “Benji’s denial isn’t just a river in Egypt. Archer and Dad are butting heads at the moment, so he’s more frustrated than usual.”
“Really?”
“Arch has a lot to learn.”
“And you know this from your many additional years of life experience?” I tease.
“Year. I’m only a year older than him. And I can tell because Will isn’t my blood father. Archer and his dad have the same volatile personality traits: perfectionism with a splash of control.”
“I thought Will was a saint.”
Nate shakes his head. “Not a saint, but he was very level with me, which was what I needed when I was adopted. With Archer, Will is the heavy—he demands excellence and rarely settles for less. Archer doesn’t appreciate anyone demanding anything of him.”
“What about Lainey? Is she as saintly as she appears?”
“Angelic. A pure light,” he says with so much reverence that I believe him. “She’s a great contrast to Will. Archer has her to thank for half his DNA, or else he’d be a complete asshole.”
I smile at the brotherly affection. “Who do you have to thank?”
“Lately? You, mostly.”
“You have mad game, Nathaniel Owen.” I shake my head at his audacity.
He touches the gold metal shell between my breasts again. “A romantic midday funeral yacht is kind of my thing.”
“Well, it’s definitely the strangest thing anyone has ever done for me.” I smile at the man who has radically changed my life. I didn’t expect today to be one of the best days of my life, but here we are.
He kisses me. I kiss him back.
For the oddest, most unexpected moment, life is so, so good.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Vivian
I’m inexplicably nervous for tonight.
Nate, as per his usual, is not nervous. How does he do it? Maybe I have nerve issues like those tiny, shaking dogs people carry around in shoulder bags. He’s more pit bull in nature. Determined, doesn’t fight unless forced, and a big belly-baring softie once you get to know him.
While I’m musing about what an unlikely dog couple we’d make, he answers a call on his cell phone. I’ve been ready to leave for five minutes. I’m dressed in a gorgeous chevron dress with gold threads and gold strappy shoes to match—not the horribly uncomfortable ones from before.
He’s in a suit, deep navy in color. No tie. He looks delicious—I use that word a lot, but it’s the best descriptor. We’re attending a silent auction hosted by his parents, what Nate calls “rich person bullshit.”
“Stop pacing,” Odessa reprimands with a cluck of her tongue. She finishes loading the dishwasher and starts the cycle. It hums almost silently. My apartment’s dishwasher sounds like a train barreling by.
“I don’t want to go.” I fold my arms and pout. Odessa chuckles. We’ve become close since I’ve been staying here. I like how much she loves her job. The house managers at my parents’ house were so proper. I found their cardboard outer layer off-putting. Odessa delights in what she does and it comes through in both her meals and her smile.
“You are beautiful, Vivian. Have fun showing off with Nate and smile for the cameras.”
“Cameras?”
“Lainey packs her Christmas letter with photos from the past year. Wait’ll you see it. All done via email so as not to ruin the environment.”
“Dammit. I really do like them.”
“Yes, it’s a shame isn’t it?” She smirks. She totally has my number. She unties her apron and hangs it on a hook in the pantry.
“You think I’m ridiculous because I haven’t moved in yet.”
“No. I think you’re stubborn for not moving in yet,” she corrects. “I think you’re ridiculous for not unpacking your toiletries.”
She has me there.
“As if not taking up a drawer in the bathroom will create some sort of magical boundary.” She wiggles her fingers.
“Agree,” Nate says as he steps into the kitchen.
“No one asked you,” I shoot over my shoulder but he only grins. It doesn’t bother me, which is telling. I’m already comfortable here. In his house. With him. With Odessa and soon, I imagine, with the Owens.
Hanging out with Nate’s family tonight will be intimate. I’m half worried I’ll be intruding. Who am I to pretend I’m one of them?
“Ready to leave, beautiful?” He kisses my forehead. Odessa smiles, and I consider stashing my toiletries in a drawer in the bathroom after all. I lean against Nate, so comforting. At least I can find solace in him if tonight overwhelms me.
The event is hosted at William and Lainey Owen’s house. I’m floored by the sheer size of it. A pair of columns two stories high flank a large overhang, and a massive chandelier twinkles through a second-story cathedral-style window.
“Wow,” I whisper to Nate, my hand in his. The sun is setting and painting the sky a lovely orangey-purple-pink.
We walked by a fountain and a rose garden on our way in. Several guests are seated on the massive seating area on the porch enjoying cocktails. The faint scent of cigar smoke hangs in the air.
“Am I to believe you’re impressed by this?” he asks me at the front door.
“This is a far cry from Chicago,” I admit. Tall buildings and swanky lobbies and modern furniture is one thing. Clear Ridge’s wealth is country chic amidst rolling green hills and lots of trees. The flower gardens aren’t limited to a box here or there. They are expansive and fragrant. “Peaceful.”
I tighten my hold on his arm as we step into the house. I hope that peaceful theme continues the rest of the night. Even though Odessa warned me about cameras, a photographer surprises me as I give my handbag to the coat checker.
“Look at each other, please,” he instructs, “and let’s see a smile.” The checker—a college-aged student with stunning skin and straight, silken black hair—and I put on our best camera-ready smiles and stare at each other for an awkward beat.
“Third picture he’s taken of me doing this,” she says between her teeth.
I like her already.
Nate gives me a brief tour of the house. The opulence is staggering. Granite floors in the entryway, real-wood floors, probably walnut given the color, throughout the living and sitting rooms. There are dramatic displays for auction items set up on podiums throughout a wide sitting room, and ballot-like boxes mounted on the sides of the podiums where bidders can insert their bids.
“What should we buy?” he asks, pointing out a stunning photo of a mountainside advertising a wellness retreat for couples. There is also a private dining experience at the very restaurant where Nate and I had our first meal together, which makes me nostal
gic.
“We? This is all you, buddy.”
“Not if I put in for the retreat.” He wraps his arms around my waist. “It’s for couples. You’re required to attend.”
“You’re a romantic sap, do you know that?”
“Bullshit,” we hear behind us. Nate releases me and we turn to find Benji, cocktail in hand. “Nate is a lot of things, Vivian, but if you believe he’s romantic, he has you snowed.”
“Benji considers himself the romantic one, but serial dating isn’t romantic,” Nate says.
“I second that.” Cristin appears at Benji’s elbow.
“I assume you approve of my date tonight.” Benji tells Nate as he cups Cris’s elbow. Having just taken a drink of her wine, she sputters into her glass.
“This is not a date.” She clears her throat. “You’re paying me to be here as your life assistant.”
“Life assistant coach,” he corrects, and she rolls her eyes.
“Whatever. If you’re paying me, it’s not a date.”
Ho boy. These two.
“Archer,” Nate greets as the middle brother joins our gaggle. They shake hands, formal as per their usual.
“Vivian,” Archer greets.
“Benji’s on a date with Cris,” Nate supplies.
“It’s not a date,” Cris growls. “Where’s your date?” she asks Archer.
“Right here.” He holds up his cell phone. “She’s slim, beautiful, and agreeable.”
“You mean boring,” Nate says. “Agreeable is a good quality for a coworker, not a girlfriend.”
Cris and I laugh. Me a little harder since “agreeable” is not one of my crowning qualities.
“Are you bidding on the retreat?” Benji asks, nodding to the photo we’re standing in front of.
“No,” I say at the same time as Nate says, “Yes.”
“Interesting. I wonder if you’ll outbid me.” A glint of challenge sparks in Benji’s eyes.
“It’s for a good cause.” A familiar stubborn expression takes Nate’s gorgeous mug. “Bring it.”
Cris shakes her head. “I have a mad case of testosterone exposure. Viv, accompany me to the bar?”
“Gladly. I don’t want any part of this.” I wave to the three billionaire brothers and take my leave.
Two hours later, I’m as bubbly and light as the champagne Cris and I sipped while mingling around the silent auction. I ended up bidding on several items including a spa day, but I doubt my meager offer will take the top spot. This place reeks of money—I’m familiar with the stench. I return my empty glass to the bar at the same time Nate shows up with a full whiskey for himself and more champagne for me.
“Want to go outside?” He hands me the flute.
“Sure.” I’d agree to anything right now. My limbs are loose and my mind’s a little fuzzy, but not in a bad way. I never understood my brother’s and mother’s problems with substances. Bottoming out a vodka bottle never appealed to me. An evening sipping bubbly is more my jam.
Outside, Nate and I are walking along the path and admiring Lainey’s rose gardens when two deep voices slice the air. We are out of sight, hidden by the lush floral landscape.
“Is that—?” I whisper.
“Archer and William.” He takes my hand and we creep closer. We’re eavesdropping, but I’m curious and Nate must be too.
“You’re a talented designer and builder, Archer. When you were a child I imagined you erecting museums and churches when you grew up. Not clubs and bars. I humored you when you said this was what you wanted to do in the company. I never dreamed it’d be the cornerstone of your legacy.”
“The money—”
“Is secondary,” William interrupts. “The Owen name is synonymous with greatness. Establishments with spinning lights worshiping overindulgence are—”
“Beneath you. I know.” Archer’s tone is lethal. William’s answering sigh of exasperation suggests this argument is one they’ve had before, and will have again in the future.
“Enough of this,” William says. Soft footfalls on plush grass vanish in the direction of the house. When we make our appearance from the mouth of the garden, Archer is the only one standing in the backyard, his head inclined as he studies the stars.
Nate clears his throat and Archer turns. If not for the flash of surprise on his face, I would’ve guessed he knew we were there.
“Nate. Vivian.” His surprise fades swiftly.
“We were admiring Lainey’s roses,” I needlessly explain.
He watches me for a beat. “Sorry you had to hear that.”
“I didn’t hear much. Only that you’re ruining the world by building bars.” I offer a sympathetic smile.
Archer’s lips twitch, almost returning my smile, but not quite. “Dad and I don’t agree on the evolution of Owen Construction.”
“When my dad was alive, he and I didn’t agree on much, either.” I feel Nate’s eyes on me, approving. “He was…difficult.”
“Did your brother think so?” Archer asks, his features stone.
“Um, I don’t know. Walt wasn’t around as much as me.”
“My brothers don’t find Will difficult.” His challenging gaze shifts to Nate.
“Do you have amnesia?” Nate asks. “Did you forget how hard he was on me when I moved into this house?”
“And you bloomed.” Archer drags the word out. He shakes his head, a subtle move. I have the impression he’s coiled and ready to strike even though his casual stance hasn’t changed. “I don’t respond to him as well as you do.”
Before they can lunge at each other like rival vampires, I say, “Why don’t you two have a cigar?”
Nate turns to me, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Really.”
“Yes, really.” He gave me space to be with my brother, and the least I can do is return the favor. “I’ll be inside.” I squeeze his arm and turn to leave, but he pulls me close and kisses me before I can.
“Thank you,” he mutters, his blue eyes sparkling.
“You’re welcome.” It’s nice to be able to give him what he needs.
I wave to Archer and head inside to find Cris.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Vivian
The bureau received an official invitation to the grand opening of Grand Marin, so Daniel arranged for the three of us—me, him, and Amber—to attend. It’s three thirty on a Thursday as the hot sun beats down onto the crowd. An intimate group of sixty or seventy of us sits outside on folding chairs facing a stage.
The temps reached eighty-eight degrees at noon, and the breeze isn’t helping cool me down. I hope the mayor’s speech won’t take long. I send a longing gaze at one of the shops, coveting its air-conditioned interior.
Amber and I are in the front row. She’s fanning herself with the program and Daniel is acting as if he’s on the verge of spontaneously combusting. He keeps murmuring under his breath about how he’s uncomfortable, and then shifting in his seat. I’m doing my best to ignore him.
“Nate Owen is a staple in Clear Ridge, and I don’t know what we’d do without him,” Mayor Dolans is saying.
“We’d have a lot less headaches,” Daniel mumbles. Nate is trying to zone a residential area to include retail. Daniel’s been complaining about it for a week. It’s making my job less pleasant and that’s saying something. I’ve stolen a few glances at Grand Marin’s corner office since we arrived, that’s for damn sure.
Daniel seems to remember I’m sitting next to him and offers a pained, and possibly sheepish, smile before adding, “Sorry. I forgot you two are…” He gestures with his hand rather than finishing his sentence.
We are.
That’s as good a description as any. I’ve rarely slept in my own bed for nearly a month. I sleep next to Nate.
“How are things with the billionaire?” Amber whispers to me. Amber has become a close friend. We’ve had lunch together a lot over the last month or so. She’s heard my stories about Walt and my suspicions of Dee. She knows about
Nate and me, though I kept his proclamation to myself.
“The same. I mean, I drive an extra twenty minutes to work every day now. And Odessa plies me with food the second I come home. She’s on a nutrition kick lately so I’ve eaten a lot of salads and drunk a lot of juices.”
“I’ve always wanted a juicer.”
“You can have Walt’s. He left it when he moved to Chicago.”
“Really?”
“Sure.” I think of the juicer on my countertop Walt bought with my money and wish I had insisted he take it with him when he moved. I’ve watched him spend fifteen minutes scrubbing it clean. No thanks.
“No, I don’t mean the juicer. I didn’t know Walt moved to Chicago.”
“This past weekend.” I feel her eyes on the side of my head and turn. “What?”
“Are you okay?”
“I think so. I can’t run his life for him.” Nate is teaching me that.
Amber looks like she has more to say, but applause erupts around us, signaling the end of the mayor’s speech. As he steps aside, Nate, dressed in lightweight gray trousers and a tight pale-blue polo shirt, grins at the crowd from in front of the microphone. I all but purr. His chest is testing the confines of his shirt, the sleeves tight around thick biceps. Even after months together, the sight of him makes me gooey.
“He’s pretty,” Amber whispers, pausing her fanning to slap me with the program. “Lucky.”
Not a word I’ve attributed to myself in a long while, but I can’t argue. He is pretty and I am lucky. Since the start of this whole new-identity thing, I haven’t thought too far into the future. Honestly, I half expected Daniel to figure out who I was and fire me. I guess that doesn’t make a lot of sense now that I think about it. I slide a glance over at my surly boss and consider while he’s not the friendliest person on the planet, I doubt he’d can me because I was Walter Steele’s daughter. Until that night at the bar when Nate outed me to random strangers, I believed the world hated me.
Once Upon a Billionaire: Blue Collar Billionaires, Book 1 Page 19