Chapter Twenty

Rose stood there, looking from Owen’s clenched jaw to Jason’s lazy sneer. It couldn’t be. She must have misheard.

She touched Owen’s arm uncertainly. “What’s going on?”

Everyone’s eyes turned to her, a thousand spotlights shining all at once. Her stomach spun in dizzying somersaults on the stage. She had no idea what had gone wrong. And even less of a clue how to fix it.

There had been a line for the bathroom. The whole thing took longer than expected. When she’d come back to the gallery, she’d scanned the room looking for Owen, ready to pick up where they’d left off.

But he hadn’t been by the bar where she’d left him. It seemed silly now to think of how, just a moment ago, she’d smiled to herself, ready to find him standing engrossed in front of one of the paintings, waiting for her.

But she hadn’t seen him anywhere.

And then she’d heard the shouting.

For a moment, she’d gone completely still. She was so worried about something going wrong tonight that she was looking for problems everywhere. Owen was right. She needed to learn to relax, especially around Jason and the other higher-ups at the company. There was no reason to think something could have happened in the minutes she’d been gone.

But then it came again, unmistakable this time. Jason was shouting, his characteristic boom echoing through the gallery. And the voice that responded? Everything inside her had sunk like a stone. There was no hoping the guy yelling back was anyone other than Owen.

She had no doubt Jason had started it. But that was what Jason did—start things. She’d thought Owen would know better than to take the bait.

Apparently not, because his chest was heaving as she ran up to him. His body was wound up tight, his hands balled into fists by his sides.

And then he’d said those words. Cheating on a woman in her very own bed. The most personal, most painful details of her life shouted across the company gala for everyone to hear.

“Let’s go,” she said under her breath to him, trying to diffuse the situation before her embarrassment burned her alive. “Let’s get another drink and check out the art.”

She’d pull him away, take a few deep breaths. If she couldn’t undo what had happened, at least she could step in before it got worse.

But Owen wouldn’t look at her. “Jason was just about to apologize for what he did to you. Isn’t that right, Harris?”

Rose’s stomach stopped its acrobatics and fell straight down, landing somewhere down by her toes with a thud.

“It’s fine.” She said it to Owen, but she was glaring straight at Jason. “We can talk about it later.”

Just stop it, she willed them both. Please. Stop. She was here tonight for professional reasons. Not to get personal in front of all these stares.

But Owen wouldn’t budge. And right when she thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, Jim Harris walked over, white whiskers hanging down over his lips, what she already knew to be scotch and soda sloshing in his glass.

Jim Harris, as in, the head of CUBE. Rose’s boss’s boss’s boss. Jason’s father. Almost her father-in-law.

“Everyone having a good time?” he asked, clapping his son on the back. “Beautiful place, isn’t it? Be sure to take advantage of the open bar before ten.” He raised his glass.

“Hey, Dad. We were just discussing these last quarter profits,” Jason said. “And how customers continue to seek a product they can rely on over uncertain quality and costs.”

“That’s not the only thing we were talking about,” Owen practically growled.

Jim smiled cheerfully. “Excuse me, you must be—”

“Rosie brought a friend,” Jason said before Owen could introduce himself. Rose’s jaw clenched. Jason made it sound so insignificant. A friend.

“Mr. Harris, this is Owen. My guest for the evening.” She tried to keep her voice from wavering. At least Jim had the decency to shake Owen’s hand, which Jason still had never done. Good. Now everyone could move on.

But clearly Rose was the only one who wanted this nightmare to end. Because before she could pull Owen away, he was already telling Jim he was “Owen Crowley, the owner of Crowley & Sons. And Rose’s boyfriend,” he added, like he needed yet another way to make them squirm.

“Is that right?” Jim mused. “Didn’t realize you were still in business, to be honest. Good for you, son. It takes a lot to hang on, but I admire your persistence.”

Rose hadn’t known it was possible for anyone to be even more condescending than Jason, but she had to congratulate Mr. Harris for proving her wrong. He sounded like he was supporting Owen after he’d struck out in T-ball, not meeting a full-grown adult.

She braced herself for Owen’s outburst. If he went off on Jim like he’d done to Jason, it wouldn’t matter that she’d have to kiss her promotion good-bye, not to mention her job, her apartment, any way she could afford to make it in New York. No, none of that would matter anymore. Because she’d officially have died on the spot.

But Owen swallowed, as though forcing something down. “Thank you, sir,” he said, and her chest relaxed, thinking this was over.

Until he went on. “I’m a good, honest businessman, and I work hard for what I have. I’m not the kind of guy who’d cheat on his fiancé in her own bed, like your son here.”

The room went utterly silent. Jim stared, mouth open, the first time Rose had seen him at a loss for words. Even Jason put down his glass. His face flushed beet red. But Rose was sure hers was even redder.

It was bad enough for Owen to have aired her dirty laundry once. But to repeat in front of Jim, in front of everyone, the growing crowd that had gathered around the boss…

Rose begged the floor to swallow her whole.

“Why don’t we find the young man something to eat?” Jim stammered, shooting his son a look that Rose was sure meant let this go.

“You won’t even call him out, either.” Owen shook his head. “Unbelievable.” He turned to Rose. “Come on, let’s get out of here. You’re so much better than these people.”

It was everything she’d wanted. If she couldn’t run from the room as fast as possible, she could at least at least take the opening in front of her. Tell the Harrises and everyone else that it was good to see them, but if they’d excuse her for a second…

But her feet wouldn’t move.

She was too stunned. Too horrified. And as much as she’d just been begging Owen to let it go and walk away, she couldn’t do it like this.

It would look like she sided with Owen after he’d spoken with that tone and agreed with everything he thought about the Harris family.

If she took his arm right now, no matter how polite she tried to be about it, she might as well shout “fuck you” to the whole room, even if she didn’t dare say the words out loud. Jim Harris had finally collected himself and was announcing to the group of onlookers how Rose had been doing “such great work.” She couldn’t very well leave in the middle of that like she believed Owen and thought she was “better” than everyone here.

The entire reason she’d come was to show she was an eager part of the company and looking forward to taking on new roles. So no, she couldn’t go in guns blazing and argue with everyone and then storm off. That wasn’t the way the world worked. And she needed to live in the world.

She needed Owen to have found a graceful way to exit the conversation. A simple, “It was a pleasure to meet you, we’re going to go look at the paintings now” would have sufficed. She and Owen could have continued mingling around the room, put on a good show, and gone home. Then said whatever they had to when they were alone, with no one else to overhear.

Of course, she needed him to have not humiliated her in the first place and put her on the spot in front of everyone. Christ, now what?

It was all well and good to spend hours rolling around in her bed, going from her apartment to Owen’s and back again. But it struck her now, with all those eyes watching her, waiting to see what she would do, that she’d been living in a fantasy world. She’d thought she could bring Owen here, into her real life. But she couldn’t.

“Rose?” Owen asked, pulling on her arm. Trying to get her on his side, to take a stand against the group of people crowding around them.

“Is everything okay?” Jim asked, his bushy eyebrows pinched together, probably in concern over how quiet she’d become. “You still enjoy being with us, right?”

She bit her lip. Everyone was watching, waiting to see what she’d do.

Owen, to see if she’d stand up for him.

Jason, to see if she’d lost all reason.

Jim, to see where she stood.

“I—” she started, but she faltered and closed her mouth. She’d just meant to give herself a moment, to inhale and try again.

But it was already too late. Her silence said more than words ever could.

“It’s okay, Rosie,” Jason said, using that nickname he had no right to say. As though they were all friends, close as could be, and this was any old conversation at any old time. As though the Harrises were the ones who were closest to her and Owen the one on the outside. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately. No one holds it against you.”

She knew what he was saying. Her position at CUBE didn’t have to be in jeopardy just because she’d made a dumb decision and brought a date to the company gala who couldn’t comport himself the way he was supposed to. It was embarrassing but embarrassing like having too much to drink at one of the holiday parties. He’d forgive her and let her put it behind her. As long as she made the right choice from here on out.

“I’m doing fine,” she murmured, unable to look at him or Jim. Or Owen. Or anyone.

All she wanted was to hit on the one, perfect thing to say that would bring this all back under control and let her keep her job and her boyfriend and her happiness without anyone being mad or demanding too much.

But it was too late. Owen turned to her. “I guess you’re right,” he said. “You’re doing just fine.”

And then, before she could think or speak or beg for him to wait, he walked away, leaving her alone in that circle of vultures to fend for herself.

He strode across the gallery, heading for the exit. Even if Rose wanted to race out the door, her legs wouldn’t move. Her heart barely seemed to even beat.

She swallowed, struggling not to cry. Her untouched glass of champagne shook so much in her hand, she had to set it down.

Everyone was watching. If only she could take a second get a handle on what had fallen apart so quickly, pull Owen aside so they could talk just the two of them, and then come back and face the crowd together.

But this wasn’t a script to rewrite until she got it perfect. There was no re-shooting this scene. It was all over so fast. A beat of silence, and then the chatter started up again. Glasses clinked. Music played. Everything moved on.

Jim Harris popped another canapé into his mouth. He let her know how much he was looking forward to “working together more closely” and “putting the past behind them” in order to “make the best use of her talents.”

Rose nodded blankly, wondering what had just happened. What talents were Jim talking about, anyway?

Probably driving men off. Turned out she was really good at that.

Was Owen really not coming back to apologize? Was he just going to say those things…and then leave?

How had she wound up standing alone in her sparkling dress, on autopilot as the party went on?

She thought back to the spark of anger in his eyes. And something else in there. Betrayal.

She picked up her champagne glass. Her mouth smiled at Jim, but inside, a five-alarm siren was blaring.

What the hell have I done?