Forbidden Desires

by Roberts, Jaimie

  "I didn't know whether I needed an overnight bag," I offer, biting my lip.

  He immediately gives it to his driver, who’s standing diligently beside him. "I'm hoping we’ll be back by tonight, but good thinking on the overnight bag."

  "How long will it take to get there?"

  Owen starts to walk outside, so I follow. "Under three hours."

  We climb into a limousine with blacked out windows, and the driver pulls away from the curb. My mind can't help but wander to all the things I could do back here with Owen without anyone ever knowing. Sitting beside him and smelling his manly aftershave isn't helping either. There's something quite desirable about a confident man. Owen has this aura that attracts people to him like an unseen force. He can seem cold, but oddly charismatic. Dangerous, but sexy. I don't know what it is about him that makes my insides twist with need. I had missed his presence in the few days he was gone. I had never intended to like any man my mother dug her claws into, but with Owen…it all seemed so…natural.

  "What's the problem with the shipping?" I ask, clasping my hands together. I'm afraid they'll betray me by reaching out and grabbing his.

  "The license hasn't come through, which means the cars are stuck in a warehouse with nowhere to go and it’s costing my business money. I was told it's being dealt with, but this isn't the first incident since the dealership opened there three years ago. I need to see what in the hell is going on."

  He grits his teeth, shaking his head as he pinches his nose. I have this sudden desire to rub his shoulders—do something to calm him.

  "Whatever I can do to help, I'm here."

  His shoulders drop, and he lets out a breath before turning to me with a smile. "Thank you. Just you saying that means more than you know. It's nice to have someone on my side. I don't know why I didn't get an assistant months ago."

  "Well, I for one am glad you didn't, otherwise I wouldn't have this job."

  Owen smirks, causing the sexy crease to form around his eyes. "I'm sure I would have thought of something."

  I swear sometimes he's flirting with me, but I don't know if this is just his personality. Maybe he's charming with everyone.

  "I'm sorry you caught me lazing in the pool. Frank was about to get me a cocktail—not that I normally drink so early in the day, it's just…"

  Putting his hand up to stop me, Owen chuckles. "You're rambling, Savannah. Stop being so nervous all the time. My home is yours now too. If you want to laze in the pool and have a cocktail at one in the afternoon, then do so."

  "I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage."

  Owen turns toward me. His jacket falls open, revealing his impressive chest. I quickly avert my eyes, not wanting him to catch me staring.

  "You saying that tells me all I need to know about your character. I think you and I will get along fine…so long as you stop worrying, of course." He winks, and I laugh. "That's better."

  "Have you always been into cars?"

  Owen instantly relaxes against the seat. “I was raised around them, so I didn’t have much of a choice, but yes, luckily I am very into cars. When on business, I get driven. For pleasure, I drive. It's always been my motto. And every Sunday, I take one of my beauties out for a spin. It's one of my fun things to look forward to every week."

  "So, this Sunday, will you be carrying on in your tradition or going back to join Mom for the rest of your honeymoon?”

  There’s a slight wince at the mention of my mom. If he loved her, he would want nothing more than to join her once his business is sorted.

  "I told your mom to stay as long as she wanted. I need to be here to make sure everything's running smoothly. So, yes, I will be taking my car out this Sunday."

  "Do you know which one?" I ask, intrigued.

  His forehead crinkles in thought. "Probably the Bugatti. I haven't taken her out in a while." When I don't say anything, he looks my way and laughs at my widened eyes. "Yes, I have a Bugatti. Do you want to come with me? It would be nice to have the company."

  I almost ask if he's kidding, but refrain from blurting it out. I'm pretty sure I would have dropped the F bomb too.

  "I would really like that. Thank you."

  He smiles before frowning. "Tell me, Savannah. What do you like?"

  An easy question to ask, but not always to answer. I think for a moment, not wanting to leave anything out. “Mostly reading, swimming, writing, riding horses, and hiking. Although, you don't really get to do any of that in New York. I keep dreaming of going to the Grand Canyon and doing the Bright Angel Trail. The scenery must be stunning with all those vibrant colored rocks." I glance at Owen to find him studying me. "Sorry, I'm rambling again."

  He shakes his head. "No, you're not. You were quite animated. It was nice to watch. I didn't realize you were into horses. It's not something you can easily do in New York City either." He laughs, and I join in.

  "You'd be surprised. There are a number of them in New York. I had a friend in school who loved to ride horses. She was the one who got me into it. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to ride for a few months."

  "Funny you should mention that. I’ve been thinking about building a barn and some stables. There's plenty of acreage at the back of the house for the horses to run around. I had someone draw up plans a couple months ago, but I haven't yet had time to look at them."

  "Seriously?" I ask, a slight screech in my voice. He nods, smiling. "Wow, that would be so cool."

  "Maybe you should look at the plans. Be my project manager for it. What do you say? It would leave time for me to concentrate on other things."

  I can't believe this man. He's like a dream come true. "Of course. I would be honored to. Thank you."

  "No, thank you," he replies as we pull up beside a jet and a waiting stewardess.

  "We're going on a private jet?"

  Someone opens the car doors, and as Owen puts a foot out, he turns to me and says, "Only the best way to travel."

  I wait until he's out of the car. "Holy shit."

  "Miss," someone says, making me turn my head. There's a guy in a suit waiting for me to get out of the car.

  "Oh, yes. Sorry." I scramble out as quickly as I can and hastily follow behind Owen. When we get to the bottom of the stairs, he acknowledges the stewardess, who smiles ever so sweetly back. A touch of the green-eyed monster rears its head, and I wonder if he's ever slept with her. Mile high club and all that. Maybe it's best I don't know.

  "Claire, this is my stepdaughter and assistant, Savannah. Savannah, this is Claire. She's going to be looking after us on the flight."

  She immediately puts her hand out. "Nice to meet you."

  "Nice to meet you too," I reply, shaking her hand.

  "Kirk says all conditions look perfect for our journey," Claire says, addressing Owen.

  "Perfect." Owen gestures for me to climb the stairs. "After you."

  I start to ascend the steps, swaying my hips. Every fiber of my being wants to turn to see if he's watching my ass, but I know I can't. A big part of me is hoping he’s watching me.

  What kind of daughter does that make me?

  Inside the plane, my mouth hangs open as I take in the plush decor. Four very luxurious black leather seats facing each other at the front are big and inviting. Toward the back are more seats, and a long sofa that looks comfortable enough to sleep on. Pristine cream walls and blue plush carpet make it welcoming and homey.

  "Wow," I utter, unable to stop the word from coming out.

  A soft laugh belts out behind me. I pivot to find his piercing green eyes on me. "I take that as a good wow?"

  I walk farther in and approach one of the chairs. "It's an amazing wow."

  "That's good," he replies, motioning toward the chair. "Make yourself comfortable."

  "Would you like some champagne before your flight?" Claire asks as soon as we sit.

  I say nothing, unsure what I'm supposed to say. Owen answers quickly enough. "Yes, that would be nice. Thank you, Claire."<
br />
  "You're welcome."

  "What's for lunch?"

  "Today, we have chicken breasts, sautéed potatoes, and asparagus."

  "Sounds great. Is that all right for you, Savannah?"

  My mouth waters at the thought. "That's more than fine. Thank you."

  Claire scurries away to do her duties, while I sit here unable to figure out how lucky I am. I have my mom to thank for this life, but if I were to ask her, she would tell me she was born for this. She doesn’t have a grateful bone in her body. How she can take advantage of someone as nice as Owen is beyond anything I can imagine. I guess some people are born not giving a shit.

  "You look like a dear caught in headlights."

  Not realizing he's been watching me this whole time I've been staring around the plane, I fix my eyes on Owen instead. "It's a lot to take in. I've never been on a private jet before."

  "I think you'll be getting to do a number of firsts with me."

  Heat burns between my legs. How did he sound so casual while saying something so hot? His eyes smile. He's joking, but it still sounded so…sexual.

  "And I look forward to all of them," I blurt out without thinking. I'm pretty sure my voice went deep when I said it.

  Owen's smiling eyes narrow for a fraction of a second, locking on mine. We're like two predators waiting for our time to strike. The air thickens, and a surge of something electrical runs up my spine. My mouth parts, and his eyes hone in on my lips. My breath quickens in response to my beating heart.

  "Your champagne, sir," Claire's voice sings, breaking us from our trance.

  Owen quickly averts his eyes and clears his throat. "Thank you," he answers, taking his glass. She quickly walks toward me, and smiles as I take my glass too.

  "Thank you."

  Another ten minutes go by, and we're in the air. Owen buries himself in paperwork as I sit, sipping my drink. A part of me thinks his sudden lack of talking has something to do with our little encounter a moment ago, but I could just be reading too much into it. Suffice it to say, not much is said the whole way to Jacksonville, but I did have an amazing dinner. The chicken was perfectly white, juicy, and tender, the asparagus crispy, and the potatoes fluffy. It was hands down one of the best meals I’ve ever had. I must be easily pleased.

  Once we land, Owen leads the way down the stairs, greeted by another man in a suit.

  "Mr. Montgomery, I hope you enjoyed your flight. Mr. James is waiting for you back at the office."

  "And what about the license?" he barks back, immediately heading for the waiting car.

  "It's being faxed over as we speak. As soon as we get the go ahead, we’ll send the trucks to collect the cargo."

  Owen shakes his head. "No, tell them to go now. That's where we're heading too. Mr. James can wait for me."

  Suit Guy nervously swallows. "Certainly, sir." He then addresses the driver. "Steve, can you take Mr. Montgomery to the port? We'll meet you there."

  The driver nods, and Owen gets in. I glance toward Suit Guy, and it's then he realizes I'm there.

  "Hi, I'm Savannah, Owen's assistant."

  He shakes my hand. "Nice to meet you."

  "Savannah!" Owen shouts from inside the car.

  Biting my lip, I nervously nod to the suit guy and scurry toward the car. The door is shut swiftly behind me, leaving me with an angered heat coming from Owen. What crawled up his ass?

  He stares out the window as he says, "I don't pay you to fraternize with co-workers."

  Startled by his outburst, I gasp. "All I did was introduce myself."

  His head snaps back to me, and he locks me with those piercing green eyes. "Not on my watch."

  Returning to stare back out the window, I'm left shocked by what's transpired. I've never seen Owen look so angry. He picks up his phone to make a call, barking orders with regard to this license being faxed by the time he arrives at the port. Three phone calls and a few expletives later, we arrive at the port. It's the first time I have ever seen him so uptight.

  It's what I can only describe as disorganized chaos after we arrive. Owen leaves me to do whatever he needs to. What I find out from hanging around is the license didn't come through and they're waiting on a fax to arrive. After twenty minutes of waiting, the fax comes through, and five minutes later, the trucks are here to collect the freight. By the time they leave, Owen is still rigid with stress, worry creasing his brows. I don't say or do anything other than follow in the car back to the dealership.

  We get ushered past a few empty, dark rooms. We approach Mr. James' office and sit down opposite him. Owen stares Mr. James down as he sits rigidly in his chair, forced air coming from his nostrils.

  "What the fuck happened today, Adam?" Owen seethes, leaning forward, awaiting his answer.

  Adam, looking like he’s about to pass out, fidgets with a glass paperweight on his desk. "It's the licensing office. They're always fucking screwing up. I'm on their asses every day trying to make sure all the documents are in order, but sometimes they make mistakes. I try, Mr. Montgomery, but I can only do so much. They're incompetent."

  The need to pee is overwhelming. I shift in my seat.

  "What's wrong with you?" Owen growls.

  It takes me a moment to realize he's talking to me. My face flushes with embarrassment, but my bladder is past caring.

  "I really need to use the ladies room."

  "Then go," Owen snaps without looking at me.

  I don't say anything as I scramble to my feet and head for the door. Owen shouts something about getting the name of the manager in licensing before all voices are drowned out. I take a right, and thankfully, come across a door with “ladies” written on it before I need to ask someone.

  After relieving myself, I make my way back to the office, when voices coming from another room halt my journey. "He can't get away with this for much longer.” It’s a woman’s voice.

  Sneaking forward, I listen at the door’s edge.

  "He's going to find out one day." Another female.

  "It's been amazing how long he's managed to get away with it so far. You know, I heard he hired a dodgy accountant to fiddle the numbers so he can pocket some of the cash."

  A gasp echoes throughout the room. "That's awful. Someone should tell Mr. Montgomery."

  "I know, but Mr. James has been part of our team for so long. I heard he recently got divorced. Maybe that's been a major factor in his behavior."

  "Yes, but that doesn't warrant him stealing from his employer."

  "Of course it doesn't. That's not what I'm saying. What I’m saying is everyone does something for a reason. Maybe he's just going through a hard time with his ex-wife and all."

  "Yeah, and now it's showing." A male voice. "You and I both know how often he's been showing up late, sending out incorrect invoices, double booking clients—the list goes on. We've been covering for him thus far, but how much longer can we do that before it's too late? You know what they say about addicts: they have to hit rock bottom before they can climb back up. Mr. James has hit rock bottom, and we're still fucking enabling him!"

  A smack on the table causes me to jump. I walk away, finding an exit so I can get fresh air. Pushing through an emergency door, I suck in a breath, hoping it will clear my fuzzy brain. Did I hear correctly? Owen can't know anything about this. He would have been here to immediately fire the guy otherwise.

  The thing is, now I’m aware. And that's what bothers me. I don't know Mr. James, so I can't judge the guy, but with the information I now have, it looks like he's been taking advantage of Owen. I certainly can't abide by that. My loyalty is with him—no matter what. If everything I heard is true and he’s been struggling due to a divorce, then I feel sorry for him, but if he's stealing from the company, he must pay for his actions.

  I don't know how long I've been standing here before the door pushes open, making me jump. "There you are. I've been looking all over for you. We've got to go."

  Owen makes a move to leave, but I grab his
arm. "Owen, there's something you need to know."

  He stops, letting the door go behind him so it's only me and him outside. "Go on," he urges.

  I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath. "When I was on my way back to Mr. James's office, I overheard a conversation you should know about." I stop for a moment to swallow, then continue to tell him everything I heard. Owen listens without interruption, and once I'm finished, I try to gauge his reaction. He's neither angry nor sad. Just…impassive.

  "Did I do the right thing by telling you?" I ask, unsure of myself.

  Owen’s face softens as he grabs my arm. "Of course you did. Listen, go out front, I'll instruct the driver to take you back to the plane. It's already getting late. I’ll be right behind you as soon as I can."

  I nod and follow him inside. Owen leads the way to the exit where the driver is instructed to take me back to the plane. Owen disappears soon after I'm bundled into the car. I don't quite know what's happened here, but I hope whatever it is has now been resolved.

  We get to the plane twenty minutes later, and I'm ushered aboard where Claire offers yet another glass of champagne. I'm tired, but I'm also a little frayed, so I accept. I sit there for a little while after sipping my drink, my eyes becoming heavier. Eventually, I must fall asleep in my chair as something soft and fluffy being put over my body momentarily stirs me.

  I startle, realizing the plane is dark and in the air. Owen is hovering over me, shushing me as I wake.

  "It's okay. Only me. Go back to sleep."

  He sits back opposite me, and I rub my eyes. We're alone. In the dim light, the faint thrum of the engine purrs as we glide through the air.

  "How long have I been asleep?"

  "I'm not sure. I found you like this when I got on the plane. I kept you waiting a while."

  I pull myself up in my chair and squint a little. I'm still so sleepy, it's hard for my eyes to adjust.

  "What time is it?" I ask, one eye open.

  Smirking, Owen says, "It's a little after three."

  My other eye snaps open. "Three!" I screech.

  "Yes, sorry. It took a while to figure things out."

  I bite my lip, wondering what happened to Mr. James. "Did you…fire him?"