Chapter 6

SIX

Colin

" I 'll kiss you when you earn it."

A shudder runs through me at the memory of his lips against mine. Even if they were angry and growling at me. The moment of anger, the slip of his control…it was everything.

Definitely not the deterrent he thinks it was.

Sweet innocent man, you have no idea what you've just done.

I smile to myself, ideas of how to get under his skin, how to force his hand and make him snap, filter through my head. I'm a professional brat at this point. Pissing people off is as easy as breathing.

I text the man who runs my parents' lives and tell him I'm moving into the Godfreys penthouse. After a quick exchange, he gets to work to get my stuff moved. For the next few weeks, it's just Owen and me in this place. He can't escape me here, and I'll fucking earn it.

I glance over the desk that has a big black ink spot on the wood where it bled through the paper. Who the hell uses an inkwell anymore? Pretentious, entitled, rich boys, that's who. Apparently.

Sitting in the chair Owen leaped out of when he saw me, I take in the space. What does Owen really care about? Oliver is an obvious answer, but there's nothing I can do there. Except keep them separated, maybe? What would Owen do if Oliver wasn't there to run interference? Does Oliver do more?

I guess I'm about to find out.

A few hours later, I'm still sitting at the desk when the sound of the elevator dings. Checking the time, I smile and stand. There hasn't been a peep from Owen since he stormed off, but I imagine that's about to change.

"Brodrick." I force a smile when I see the man old enough to be my father. I'm not shocked at seeing him, though under different circumstances, I'm sure he would have sent someone else to deal with me. Brodrick is so deep in my father's pocket, I'm sure they share DNA at this point.

"Colin, nice to see you." He nods and hands me an inventory sheet. Glancing over it, I don't try to hide my smirk when I notice the sex toys on the list. "Where are the boxes to be delivered? Do you require unpacking as well?"

Absolutely not. I'm pushing Owen already by not warning him that my shit was arriving. Having strangers going through his things to find places to put mine will probably end with Oliver murdering me and having my body thrown into the Hudson.

"Boxes will be put in the bedroom." I turn and head down the hallway toward the door that has to be Owen's since I've been in the other two.

First test is now, husband.

"Owen, darling," I announce as sweetly as I'm able, while opening the door. I'm caught off guard by the pitch blackness. Not a single beam of light is coming from the direction I assume the window is.

I hesitate for a second before turning the light on. Since I've never been in here, I don't know what to expect, but it's too late to go back now. Brodrick is only a few seconds behind me and will be reporting back to my father with what he finds.

When the light flashes on, I'm taken aback by the disarray of it. Clothes litter the floor, there's a few dishes stacked up on what appears to be a gaming computer desk, the bed a mess of tangled sheets. They have a cleaner. I've seen her. Is she not allowed in here?

A hiss comes from under the chaise lounge.

"Do you have a cat?" I bend down, expecting an animal only to find Owen. "What are you doing under there?"

"Relaxing. Why would you turn on the fucking light?" He dramatically covers his face.

But we don't have time to do this as Brodrick is on my heels.

"Come out here."

Owen huffs and comes out. "What do you need?"

"Where shall I place them?" Brodrick asks.

Owen's eyes flick between us in silent horror.

Time. To. Pretend.

"There you are, love." I stride toward his frozen form, wrapping my hand around his. "My things are being delivered."

He grips my hand so hard it hurts, and his jaw tightens. A jawline I want to explore with my mouth…

"Brodrick, I'm sure you remember my husband, Owen Godfrey."

The man bows a little, showing him more respect than I ever got.

Bastard.

"Of course, sir. It's nice to meet you again, Mr. Godfrey."

For fuck's sake, brown nose a little harder.

I turn my head and roll my eyes.

"Nice to meet you too," Owen says through his teeth, icy gaze meeting mine.

"Where would you like the boxes put? Do you require unpacking as well, sir?" Brodrick is clearly talking to Owen, and it chaps my ass. I've never been shown respect like this from anyone who works for my father. At least, not once they figured out that my father hates me.

"I don't know. What do you think—husband?" Owen stares, posture just like Oliver's in that moment. His shoulders are stick straight and stiff as a board. His breathing is shallow and just a little too fast as if he's trying not to panic.

I will have to act for the both of us so he doesn't ruin it before we start. Sliding my thumb up, I find his pulse point and notice it's too fast as well.

Interesting.

"Along this wall is fine," I cut off Owen when he starts to point toward the closet and motion to a place on the floor. They can't go into the closet, you dumbass! None of my shit is in there!

When Brodrick continues to look at Owen, as if I didn't speak.

I raise an eyebrow and square my shoulders. This. Mother. Fucker. "I said–"

"You heard him the first time. He will not be repeating himself."

Oh, that is hot.

No one stands up for me, except maybe Isaac when Oliver threatens to have me murdered. I'm so used to having to fend for myself against the pack of hyenas I call a family that I don't know how to handle this, but good gods do I love it.

Straightening my spine, I smile at the man in front of us as his face blanches and he tries to backpedal.

"I apo–" Brodrick starts, but I cut him off.

"Do your job and get out."

"Yes, sir." He bows a little and leaves the room.

The second he's out the door, Owen drops my hand and crowds into my space with fury etched into every line of his face. "Do you really think mind games are going to work? You clearly haven't been paying attention."

"I would gladly suck your dick for sticking up for me like that."

Confusion crosses his face at the unexpected words, but there is no lie in them. It's adorable how taken aback he is.

"I'll drop to my knees right here, right now, give the delivery crew a show." I slide my hands up his strong chest and enjoy the jump of his muscles under my touch. "Gag on it, saliva dripping down my shirt while your cum fills my throat."

I'm salivating at the very idea of tasting him.

Owen grips my upper arms and shoves me away from him. "Sorry to disappoint, husband," he sneers the word. "But I'm not interested."

He strides from the room and disappears as the elevator dings again. Quickly, a handful of boxes are deposited where I instructed, and they leave. It's mostly clothes.

And sex toys.

With nothing better to do, I unpack boxes and put my things in Owen's closet. My gaudy t-shirts look amazing next to his designer suits. Of course, I also have designer clothes as well, but there's something about the contrast between him and me that makes it different.

It's clear we went in different directions when learning to deal with our parents. Everyone in our circle is toxic, misogynist, and in favor of the patriarchy. Owen toes the line, at least in public, to keep the family name clean. I do not. I could not care any less how my father looks to the public eye. The only thing I care about is keeping my sister safe. Unfortunately, my father is well aware of that.

I smile to myself as I hang them all up. My t-shirt collection is one of those things that brings me joy. They're ridiculous, over the top, and I adore them.

Grabbing a change of clothes, short shorts and crop top with an adorable frog and the words: Ask me about my tongue.

I quickly shower, making sure to jack off loud enough for Owen to hear me, then climb into his bed.

It smells like Owen, and this bed is so fucking comfortable. I close my eyes for just a second and I'm out.