Because that’s how I think of Owen—Mine.
He just doesn’t know it yet.
Maybe it’s better that way, for now. I want to make sure by the time I openly lay claim to my boy that he can’t free himself from me.
That he won’twantto free himself from me.
When I claim him, I want him to willingly choose me and the safety and trust I guarantee him. I want him to understand there are benefits to this nontraditional union I’ll offer.
Even if he hates me more than a little for backing him into that corner, I want him to be able to see I’m right.
Stacking the deck?
Damn right. I’m no idiot.
Susa wasn’t part of my initial plans, until I realized how hard she’s fallen for me. And how hard Owen has fallen for her. And, of course, what she can do for Owen. That means I have to play the pivot and will bring them together. Exactly how, I’m not yet sure. But Owen’s twenty-first birthday is rapidly approaching.
Alcohol is a great equalizer. Despite my early proclamations about not being a heavy drinker, this is one time I’m thinking I’ll make an exception, because I need the fastest way to drop Owen’s defenses. It’ll hopefully allow me the chance to finally delve into Owen’s hidden darkness and see the animal we all conceal within us.
But is my pet a tame house-cat, or is there a dark tiger lurking there, just waiting for the right person to coax him out?
That’s what I can’t wait to find out.
Either way, he’s mine. Or soon will be.
First, I have to get him through this visit with his mother without him having a nervous breakdown.
Chapter Five
At one point, I even go so far as to take a seat on the sofa before dinner. Once dinner’s served I don’t rise, waiting for Owen to look for me as he has been every thirty seconds or so since we arrived. I motion him over.
That’s when I hold my hands out, waggling my fingers. “Sorry.”
He helps me to my feet as he’s done before, and I make a point of wincing and needing to hold on to him for a moment, as if I’m not steady on my feet.
Elandra sees this but makes no comment.
Meanwhile, two other people who are close by reach out to help steady me, and I graciously smile and thank them.
“I get really stiff if I sit too long in one position,” I explain. “I’m in a bad pain cycle right now. They tell me that will likely get better over time. Not as bad as I used to be. At least I don’t need my cane today.”
Although I had seriously considered bringing it, but didn’t want to deal with maintaining that level of commitment to faking it tonight. I need my focus on Owen.
Plus, I would’ve been too tempted to whack Elandra with it.
No, seriously.
We survive dinner and have finished the dessert portion of the evening when Elandra is chatting with someone and hooks an arm through Owen’s, holding on to him as she talks.
He cannot easily escape her.
I’m standing across the room, listening to some old guy who’s a partner at Austin’s firm drone on about his glory days in Vietnam, which were apparently filled with beloved bouts of drunken debauchery, before he was wounded and shipped home. He’s also on at least his third glass of wine of the evening and looking a little unsteady on his feet.
I watch as Owen’s gaze drops to the floor and his entire demeanor changes, tense and wary. Shoulders hunched.
He looks terrified to move.
Like he’s prey and a predator is about to strike.
