She took a sip of champagne. It fizzed and sparked in her mouth as his words bubbled all the way through her.
“You can’t do this to me here,” she murmured, trying to keep her eyes light, her face natural. Like they were having a perfectly normal conversation and he wasn’t turning her legs to jelly with every word.
He slid even closer. “I like how you think I can resist you.”
She put down the glass of champagne. She needed a cold shower. A blast of AC. She needed to not turn bright red in the middle of this exquisite collection of fancy Dutch art.
“You’re so bad,” she said, even though what she really wanted to say was Don’t ever resist. Don’t ever let go.
“Have I mentioned recently that I adore you?”
“Only about twenty times in the cab,” she teased.
“Well, it’s true. You’re radiant tonight.”
“It’s the champagne.”
“And the sex,” he teased her.
She leaned close. “Definitely the sex,” she whispered. “But I have to go to the bathroom. Think you can handle staying out of trouble while I’m gone?”
“As long as you don’t leave me with these sharks for too long,” he teased.
“My odds are on you, not the sharks. You’re ten times more talented than anyone here.” She let her fingers brush his before she slipped away, across the room and down a hallway.
She’d be back in a second—but she couldn’t help looking back before she turned the corner, just to glance once more at the man leaning casually against the bar, a drink in one hand, his tux sharp and smart on his broad shoulders. This man who was at the same time looking across the room to where she was and grinning.
How did she get so lucky? How could this be real?
She turned and headed for the bathroom, catching a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror as she passed by. Her cheeks were flushed. Anyone who looked at her might think it was from the champagne. But it was from something else. The realization, sweet and wonderful, that she was in love.
…
Owen couldn’t tear his eyes from Rose as she walked away. The dress was the color of water at midnight, and it dripped down her body like a tall, cool drink. Just looking at her made him parched.
But the view as she turned around and flashed him a smile was even better. Rose thought people were looking at them because he was there. But it was so damn obvious that she was the one who lit up the room.
He waited at the bar, checking out the crowd. He couldn’t have been more out of his element. If the night didn’t come with the bonus of getting to check out Rose, he would have bolted in an instant.
But this was important to her, so he wanted to go all out. Do the tux, hold her arm as they walked in, not be a dick and ask to leave after five minutes.
If he was lucky, they wouldn’t have to talk to any of her colleagues while they were there. They could dance a little once the band got warmed up and then go home. To bed.
With that fucking gorgeous, glittering dress still on and riding up her thighs as he pushed himself inside her.
But as he was waiting, he became aware of a conversation behind him. There was the hum of chatter all around him, but one voice in particular stood out among the crowd. A booming voice going on and on.
He didn’t realize his champagne flute was already empty. He grabbed another, still hearing that grating voice brag about CUBE’s rise from a “humble family shop.” Like the millions the Harris family had inherited played absolutely no role.
The glass in his hand wasn’t all the way empty before a waiter came by, took it from him with white-gloved hands, and replaced it with a full one. This fucking party—they didn’t even refill his glass from a bottle. That would be too pedestrian. He couldn’t wait to laugh about it with Rose.
He reminded himself to stop feeling antsy. Just ignore everyone else, keep to himself, and she’d be back soon enough.
“Honestly, we’re doing those poor saps a favor.” The voice behind Owen pierced his consciousness again. It was loud and slightly slurred already, even though it wasn’t that late. Owen had a sinking realization he’d heard it once before.
It was inevitable. Of course Jason was going to be here.
But he still felt a fist land deep in his gut when he turned and locked eyes with the guy standing there, surrounded by a rowdy group of half-rate bros in tuxes clearly sucking up to him.
“They’re already struggling,” Jason went on. “If they can’t keep up in the new economy, then really—it’s kinder for them to see it now, so they can move on.”
“Like euthanasia,” another guy said. The circle roared with laughter. Owen put down his drink.
“Maybe that should be our next ad buy.” Jason laughed, looking right at Owen when he said it. The circle may have been hanging on his every word. But Owen knew who his real audience was.
“Bankruptcy,” Jason said in a commercialized, television voice as he panned his palm in a sweeping arc in front of him. “All the losers are doing it.”
More laughter. Snide remarks about how sad it was that some businesses couldn’t hack it anymore. Someone even had the audacity to say, “Survival of the fittest.”
“NYC, man,” another guy said with fake pity. “It’s cutthroat out there.”
“A toast to success,” Jason said, and the whole group echoed it back. “And to CUBE.”
Owen knew he should leave it. Fade into the shadows like he was never there. This was Rose’s night, not his. He didn’t need to dignify this son of a bitch with a response.
But Jason wouldn’t stop running his mouth. “Some people might risk their futures to slum it for a little while. But look around us, gentleman. We all know who comes out on top.”
Owen couldn’t believe it. The ass-kissers surrounding Jason were nodding along like they actually agreed with him.
And then Jason raised his glass. Not to the group to say cheers, but directly to him.
His legs were moving before he could stop them. Blood pounded in his ears. His fists were clenched by his sides. There was only one person Jason thought was “slumming it.” And he’d be damned if he let this asshole get away with saying that about her.
“Hey,” Owen said, walking straight up to him.
Jason gave him an obvious once-over. His eyes seemed to relish his disdain. “Oh,” he said. “It’s you again.”
“Yeah, it’s me. What the fuck is your problem?”
Other people might have said it wasn’t the time or place for an f-bomb. But you had to come out swinging. Otherwise, there was no limit to how much you’d be pushed around.
The circle hushed. Jason took his time putting down his champagne, rolling the last sip around on his tongue before he swallowed. It was the same act he’d performed in Rose’s apartment—like he couldn’t be bothered to care, no matter how much he obviously did.
“Excuse me, I’ve forgotten your name. You’re Rose’s new thing, aren’t you?”
The way he said it, like Owen was just some flavor of the month. Owen wanted to smack the smug grin off his face.
But that wouldn’t help Rose. So he kept his fists down—as much as it took every ounce of self-control not to react.
“You’re talking about real people,” he said. “With families and lives. You can run your business however you want. But you don’t talk about your competition that way. And you definitely don’t talk about Rose. She’s twice the person you’ll ever be.”
The corners of Jason’s lips quirked up. There was a weird way that Owen could see the appeal of the guy—his bravado, his charm. If all that charm was turned on you, then yeah. He got how it might feel.
But he could see the ugliness, too. The way all that attention could turn depending on which way the winds were blowing. He’d never been more glad that Rose had broken her eng
agement. And found him instead.
“Competition?” Jason turned to his buddies and grinned. “It’s hilarious that you think you’re on the level where we’d call you that. How’s business going these days, Crowley? Finding things a little slow?”
His fists clenched. Unclenched. His jaw did the same. Think of the commissions. Think of how good the pieces look at home. Think about Rose. “It’s going just fine,” he said through gritted teeth.
Jason smiled broadly, as if to contrast how totally relaxed he was compared to Owen’s wound-up stance. “I’m glad to hear it.”
The words were harmless enough. It was the way Jason said them, like he could almost have been sincere, that drove Owen over the edge.
“Don’t think you’re in a position to put me out of business,” he spat. “Or to ever have Rose’s respect.”
“The numbers don’t lie, I’m afraid. Take an economics course. Oh, I’m sorry. You probably didn’t get that far in trade school, did you?” Jason’s voice was slick, everything about him a slimy grin. “Businesses serve the needs of their customers. If your customers don’t want your product anymore, I’m sure Starbucks is hiring.”
Snickers from the peanut gallery as Jason grinned, lapping it up.
“I just hope there are no hard feelings when Rose tires of you and moves on,” Jason added in that same fake tone. “She does have standards, you know. She likes her men employed.”
Owen took a step toward him. “She’s happier now than she ever was with you.”
“Oh, please. She’s a child, and you’re the plastic toy she’ll grow tired of soon enough. You have to keep a tight rein on that one—she never really knows what she wants.”
Owen’s fists twitched. “From what Rose has said, you have no idea what a woman likes or needs. You owe her an apology. Here, now, in front of everyone.” He gestured to the group around them. “Cheating on a woman in her very own bed—what sad excuse for a man would do that?”
He wasn’t going to let this lying piece of shit get away with it—not even if he was the boss’s son. Especially not then.
Someone needed to stand up for Rose. She was everything, and she deserved better than to be talked about like this.
But then he heard the words, “What did you just say?” and turned around to see her stricken face. Not looking at Jason in shock. But at him.
He realized too late how close he was standing to Jason. How tight his fists were. How bad this looked.
And what he’d just blurted to everyone.
He took a step back. But Rose’s eyes were huge and accusing, demanding to know what he was doing.
Fuck. His heart revved with adrenaline. I’ve just ruined everything.
Chapter Twenty
Rose stood there, looking from Owen’s clenched jaw to Jason’s lazy sneer. It couldn’t be. She must have misheard.
She touched Owen’s arm uncertainly. “What’s going on?”
Everyone’s eyes turned to her, a thousand spotlights shining all at once. Her stomach spun in dizzying somersaults on the stage. She had no idea what had gone wrong. And even less of a clue how to fix it.
There had been a line for the bathroom. The whole thing took longer than expected. When she’d come back to the gallery, she’d scanned the room looking for Owen, ready to pick up where they’d left off.
But he hadn’t been by the bar where she’d left him. It seemed silly now to think of how, just a moment ago, she’d smiled to herself, ready to find him standing engrossed in front of one of the paintings, waiting for her.
But she hadn’t seen him anywhere.
And then she’d heard the shouting.
For a moment, she’d gone completely still. She was so worried about something going wrong tonight that she was looking for problems everywhere. Owen was right. She needed to learn to relax, especially around Jason and the other higher-ups at the company. There was no reason to think something could have happened in the minutes she’d been gone.
But then it came again, unmistakable this time. Jason was shouting, his characteristic boom echoing through the gallery. And the voice that responded? Everything inside her had sunk like a stone. There was no hoping the guy yelling back was anyone other than Owen.
She had no doubt Jason had started it. But that was what Jason did—start things. She’d thought Owen would know better than to take the bait.
Apparently not, because his chest was heaving as she ran up to him. His body was wound up tight, his hands balled into fists by his sides.
And then he’d said those words. Cheating on a woman in her very own bed. The most personal, most painful details of her life shouted across the company gala for everyone to hear.
“Let’s go,” she said under her breath to him, trying to diffuse the situation before her embarrassment burned her alive. “Let’s get another drink and check out the art.”
She’d pull him away, take a few deep breaths. If she couldn’t undo what had happened, at least she could step in before it got worse.
But Owen wouldn’t look at her. “Jason was just about to apologize for what he did to you. Isn’t that right, Harris?”
Rose’s stomach stopped its acrobatics and fell straight down, landing somewhere down by her toes with a thud.
“It’s fine.” She said it to Owen, but she was glaring straight at Jason. “We can talk about it later.”
Just stop it, she willed them both. Please. Stop. She was here tonight for professional reasons. Not to get personal in front of all these stares.
But Owen wouldn’t budge. And right when she thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, Jim Harris walked over, white whiskers hanging down over his lips, what she already knew to be scotch and soda sloshing in his glass.
Jim Harris, as in, the head of CUBE. Rose’s boss’s boss’s boss. Jason’s father. Almost her father-in-law.
“Everyone having a good time?” he asked, clapping his son on the back. “Beautiful place, isn’t it? Be sure to take advantage of the open bar before ten.” He raised his glass.
“Hey, Dad. We were just discussing these last quarter profits,” Jason said. “And how customers continue to seek a product they can rely on over uncertain quality and costs.”
“That’s not the only thing we were talking about,” Owen practically growled.
Jim smiled cheerfully. “Excuse me, you must be—”
“Rosie brought a friend,” Jason said before Owen could introduce himself. Rose’s jaw clenched. Jason made it sound so insignificant. A friend.
“Mr. Harris, this is Owen. My guest for the evening.” She tried to keep her voice from wavering. At least Jim had the decency to shake Owen’s hand, which Jason still had never done. Good. Now everyone could move on.
But clearly Rose was the only one who wanted this nightmare to end. Because before she could pull Owen away, he was already telling Jim he was “Owen Crowley, the owner of Crowley & Sons. And Rose’s boyfriend,” he added, like he needed yet another way to make them squirm.
“Is that right?” Jim mused. “Didn’t realize you were still in business, to be honest. Good for you, son. It takes a lot to hang on, but I admire your persistence.”
Rose hadn’t known it was possible for anyone to be even more condescending than Jason, but she had to congratulate Mr. Harris for proving her wrong. He sounded like he was supporting Owen after he’d struck out in T-ball, not meeting a full-grown adult.
She braced herself for Owen’s outburst. If he went off on Jim like he’d done to Jason, it wouldn’t matter that she’d have to kiss her promotion good-bye, not to mention her job, her apartment, any way she could afford to make it in New York. No, none of that would matter anymore. Because she’d officially have died on the spot.
But Owen swallowed, as though forcing something down. “Thank you, sir,” he said, and her chest relaxed, thinking this w
as over.
Until he went on. “I’m a good, honest businessman, and I work hard for what I have. I’m not the kind of guy who’d cheat on his fiancé in her own bed, like your son here.”
The room went utterly silent. Jim stared, mouth open, the first time Rose had seen him at a loss for words. Even Jason put down his glass. His face flushed beet red. But Rose was sure hers was even redder.
It was bad enough for Owen to have aired her dirty laundry once. But to repeat in front of Jim, in front of everyone, the growing crowd that had gathered around the boss…
Rose begged the floor to swallow her whole.
“Why don’t we find the young man something to eat?” Jim stammered, shooting his son a look that Rose was sure meant let this go.
“You won’t even call him out, either.” Owen shook his head. “Unbelievable.” He turned to Rose. “Come on, let’s get out of here. You’re so much better than these people.”
It was everything she’d wanted. If she couldn’t run from the room as fast as possible, she could at least at least take the opening in front of her. Tell the Harrises and everyone else that it was good to see them, but if they’d excuse her for a second…
But her feet wouldn’t move.
She was too stunned. Too horrified. And as much as she’d just been begging Owen to let it go and walk away, she couldn’t do it like this.
It would look like she sided with Owen after he’d spoken with that tone and agreed with everything he thought about the Harris family.
If she took his arm right now, no matter how polite she tried to be about it, she might as well shout “fuck you” to the whole room, even if she didn’t dare say the words out loud. Jim Harris had finally collected himself and was announcing to the group of onlookers how Rose had been doing “such great work.” She couldn’t very well leave in the middle of that like she believed Owen and thought she was “better” than everyone here.
The entire reason she’d come was to show she was an eager part of the company and looking forward to taking on new roles. So no, she couldn’t go in guns blazing and argue with everyone and then storm off. That wasn’t the way the world worked. And she needed to live in the world.
Wrong Bed, Right Man Page 13