“For some odd reason, I do.”
That doesn’t ease my fear. Owen trusts me, after all.
“He knocked you out after your little conversation,” I remind him.
“I let him.”
“What?”
Owen laughs at my shock and beckons me back to the bed. I finally sit, folding my legs under myself.
“He didn’t trust me not to tell you about our conversation before he left the building.”
“And what did he think I was going to do?” I realize it’s a dumb question. I know why Peyton didn’t want me knowing, because I’d have put his ass in jail, but Owen doesn’t know that, so I play the part I’m meant to.
“Knock him out,” Owen says like it’s obvious.
I narrow my gaze, and Owen reaches out and brushes his fingers along my jaw.
“You’re distracting me,” I hiss.
Owen’s laugh is deep and far too seductive, but it’s gone quickly. “Peyton seems to know you.”
Fuck.
“I hadn’t met the man until our conversation at the gala,” I say. “He does seem to know far more about you, me, and the company than he should.”
“You think he’s the one that’s been on Noah’s radar?”
“I want to say yes, but you have so many other enemies. I wouldn’t rule out any of them until Peyton confirms it.”
“He says he knowsexactlywho’s after me.”
“He’s either an extremely convincing liar or an exceptional puppet master. I feel like our strings are being pulled without our knowledge. Like he knows everything, and we only have a single piece to the puzzle.”
Owen looks thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe I should hire him.”
I’m leaning toward that same conclusion. I think Peyton knows far more than either of us. The problem is: I don’t trust him one bit. He has no loyalty. He only wants the side where he comes out on top.
I drop my head in my hands, confused and ungrounded.
When I finally look up, Owen is watching me. A deep wrinkle takes up space between his eyes.
“If I hire him, I can’t take you back,” he says miserably.
“Why?”
Owen doesn’t speak right away, his features twisting into silent rage. “He touched you.”
It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t what I was expecting. I let my face soften and inch closer to him. “Owen, I can handle that. You know I can.”
Owen shakes his head, his rage turning into something resembling sadness. “You shouldn’t have to.”
I don’t know why, but I laugh. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have to deal with unwanted advances or touching, but I can’t change others. All I can do is keep fighting.”
Owen grabs my chin and rests his forehead against mine. “Has anyone ever fought for you?” he whispers against my lips.
I squeeze my eyes shut as a lump forms in the back of my throat. “No.”
