His fury deflates. “Because…because…” He trails off and looks at the ceiling, sucking in a deep breath. His chest is so close. “Because money doesn’t buy you happiness, Miss Riley. It buys you loneliness.”
Now it’s my turn to suck in a breath. I didn’t expect him to say that. “What about your brother?”
Owen meets my gaze again, and this time his eyes are softer. Sad. “We didn’t grow up together. He grew up with his mother, while I lived withmy father, spending most of my time here, sleeping under my father's desk most nights.”
This company was his whole life, whether he wanted it to be or not. Even as a child, he had no choice. My chest constricts at the thought of the little boy under the desk, living and breathing his father's career. Did that little boy ever have a childhood? It sounds like Parker did. I’m doubting Owen did.
He continues, “We only recently became close now that he’s helping with the charities.”
I go to place a hand on his chest and stop myself, dropping it to my side.
Owen’s gaze tracks the movement.
I step back. “You can’t fight me in this condition. I’ll surely give that pretty face of yours a black eye. You’re no match for me drunk.”
He laughs, the sound causing a flutter low in my gut.
“I’m no match for you sober, Miss Riley. What do you propose?”
“Coffee, food, a shower, new clothes, a toothbrush, and lots of water. I think I have some electrolyte powder.” I bend down and pick up my bag, shuffling around the contents until my hands land on a small plastic bag full of electrolyte packs.
I hold them out to him and find his stare is on me. The look pierces me, and goosebumps travel up my arms.
He takes the packets, his hand lingering too long on mine. I snatch it away and turn, trying to compose myself.
“Thank you, Miss Riley.” His voice follows me to my desk.
Nodding, I move to the coffee machine, adding a filter and ground coffee beans. Then I flip on the spigot and hold the pitcher under the stream.
“I’m not lonely. Not with you here.” His confession is almost a breathless whisper.
I halt, water spilling from the top of the coffee pot, but I’m unable to move.
Owen steps behind me and reaches over to shut off the spigot. His front presses against my back, trapping me against the sink.
I don’t move. Neither does he.
My heartbeat speeds up. I pretend not to notice my body's response or the fact that Owen hasn’t moved away. With shaking hands, I dump some of the water out of the overfull coffee pot.
He steps back suddenly, as if just realizing how close he was.
“Go take a shower. I’ll find us something to eat,” I say to him, my voice more raspy than I intended.
He obeys without a word, and as I’m switching on the coffee machine, I hear the bathroom door shut.
Relaxing my shoulders, I let my head fall into my hands.
What the hell happened? And why do I seem to care so much?
He’s a fucking murder suspect.
Chapter 13
Imake it through the day unscathed, avoiding Owen as much as I can. Instead, I focus on various admin tasks for his charities and managing last minute gala items. I do some research on the companies he has recently acquired.
The further I dig, the more interesting it becomes. All three companies were tied to big oil, and all three had inquiries into human trafficking, along with a surprising number of sexual harassment lawsuits.
“Ella,” I whisper into the phone in the bathroom while Owen takes a business call on the other side of the door, “Can you have Eagan look into something else for me?”
