The Book of Owen

One last look in the mirror before heading out.

My black barely-there dress hugged every curve. The fabric around my breasts hung loose, but that was the entire point of the dress. Bare back. Knee length. A sharp slit running up one side.

Perfect.

I grabbed my heels and left my room.

I passed my sister, Catori, on the way downstairs.

I gave her a quick hug, but neither of us said a word.

She had a date with Gym Bro Mark tonight.

The guy looked like a tool.

He's been stalking us around the gym for months. He just magically appears wherever we are. It's fucking annoying. I come to work out, not get hit on.

Not that anyone hits on me.

They always go for Catori.

She says I'm not approachable. Apparently, I have resting bitch face.

I do not.

It's an Eastern European thing.

Even though I was born and raised in the States, both my parents are from there. We don't randomly smile at strangers. That's weird.

The second I reached the first floor, I could hear my brother and the knuckleheads.

Owen.

Jason.

His best friends.

Fucking Owen.

He's been teasing me forever.

Then, when I turned seventeen, something changed.

He still teased me, but he stopped touching me.

No more hugs.

No more hair tugs.

Nothing.

I only saw him during holidays whenever Constantine came home. My brother spent ten years in the Air Force before recently retiring.

Now I was twenty-two.

And somehow Owen was still a pain in my ass.

My eyes were already rolling before I reached the game room.

Sometimes I wished the common areas in Mom's penthouse had doors. The whole place was an open floor plan.

I wanted to move out so badly.

Catori wouldn't budge.

I could do it myself.

Get a studio space somewhere.

Anything.

Catori and I started Cat & Kat Co. when we were eighteen. Our luxury handbag company pulls in eight figures a year. We absolutely do not need to live at home with our mother.

Or our older brother.

Constantine had just moved back in, though I doubted he'd stay long. He'd probably buy a place soon.

Catori, meanwhile, practically threw herself at him every chance she got.

To be fair, they weren't biologically related.

Constantine and I shared a father.

Catori didn't.

She'd loved him her entire life.

Honestly, you needed a spreadsheet to understand our family tree.

I had two other half brothers.

Five kids.

Three fathers.

That was my mother.

The funniest part?

The men still hung around.

Mom was like honey.

My father was still hopelessly in love with her, even though he couldn't keep it in his pants long enough to save his marriage. They'd been divorced for over a decade, yet he was always around.

I leaned against the wall for a moment until my brother and his friends spotted me.

They were watching basketball.

Boring.

Owen sat sprawled across the couch wearing khakis and a blue button-down stretched so tightly across his chest the buttons looked seconds away from filing a formal complaint.

Jason was in gray sweats.

Gray sweats.

I swear that man never wore underwear.

His dick was always swinging around like it had its own zip code.

How did that not bother him?

Constantine looked over first.

"Where are you going, Kat?" he asked with a grin. "Date?"

I frowned.

He knew better.

I didn't really date.

"No one wants to date a fire-breathing dragon," Owen said.

Jason and Constantine burst out laughing.

Assholes.

I bent down to put on my heels.

I looked toward Owen.

He was staring directly into my dress.

I knew damn well my tits were on full display.

His eyes finally traveled upward and met mine.

"See something you like, troll?"

For a second, he looked like he'd swallowed his tongue.

Frozen.

Then color crept across his face.

Gotcha.

"I'm going to see KenTheMan with my girls," I told Constantine.

I leaned against the wall and tucked my clutch under my arm.

My hands ached.

First the left.

Then the right.

I rubbed them absentmindedly.

Today I'd cut three hundred leather squares by hand. Then sewn them together.

Tomorrow I'd assemble the actual bag.

It was hard work.

Hard on my body.

But I loved seeing my designs come to life.

This particular bag was for an automobile heiress.

"Why do your hands hurt?" Owen asked with a laugh. "Too many hand jobs?"

Fucking asshole.

Constantine immediately told him to knock it off.

"No, asshole," I snapped. "I actually work."

Owen didn't say another word.

Constantine had effectively shut him up.

They might be friends, but both Owen and Jason were a little scared of my brother.

Honestly?

Reasonable.

Constantine was a scary motherfucker.

I smiled sweetly.

Showing dimples.

Dangerous move.

"I see you're still shopping at Baby Gap."

Owen looked down and shook his head.

"Your buttons are struggling. You know that shirt probably comes in men's sizes, right?"

My brother muttered something about trying to stop the argument.

Absolutely not.

I wasn't done having fun.

I loved pushing buttons almost as much as Owen did.

Eventually Constantine stood.

Jason followed.

The traitors abandoned us.

Now it was just me and Owen.

"Why are you staring so hard?" he asked, smiling.

"I'm not."

"You are."

I rolled my eyes.

"You've just filled out since I saw you last."

Owen's grin widened.

Then my mother called everyone for dinner.

He stood.

And started walking toward me.

My traitorous heart immediately flipped.

Hard.

I could hear it pounding inside my skull.

"So did you," he said.

His hand came up.

His fingers wrapped around my chin, tilting my face upward.

My breath caught.

Owen was entirely too close.

His heat.

His cologne.

The way he looked at me.

I felt dizzy.

I planted both hands against his chest.

His gaze dropped instantly.

Surprise flashed across his face.

Got him.

I pushed.

He actually stepped back.

The man was six-foot-six and built like a tank, yet he moved.

Someone help me, because my hands almost stayed exactly where they were.

Asshole was really hot.

I took two deliberate steps toward him.

Owen backed away.

Looking genuinely concerned.

Good.

"Have a good night, troll."

I turned and headed for the door.

And the entire time I repeated the same thing inside my head.

Don't look back.

Don't look back.

Don't look back.

By the time I reached the door, I failed completely.

I looked back.

Owen was still standing in the exact same spot.

Watching me.

My teeth caught my lower lip before I could stop myself.

His eyes dropped to my mouth.

Even from across the room, I could see it.

I hated how attractive he was.

Those hazel eyes.

That stupid curly brown hair.

I wondered how soft it felt.

Wondered what it would feel like with my fingers buried in it.

Then his hand dropped.

Oh.

His.

Hand.

Dropped.

I froze.

He adjusted himself.

Actually shook his junk.

Oh shit.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

I was not prepared for that.

I spun around so fast I nearly face-planted into the door.

And just like that—

I was out.