Owned (Office Intrigue Book 8) by Nicole Edwards (year 2 reading books TXT) 📗

this room, in fact. I’d thought about her endlessly through the day, a fact that I wasn’t completely comfortable with. What it was about Braelyn Bishop that had captured my attention so completely, I didn’t know, but here I was, and I figured there was no better time than the present to explore it.

Right on time, there was a knock at the door. I smiled and headed for it. Corvin and Bram stood on the other side, pushing a silver serving cart, which contained not only Braelyn’s meal but mine, as well.

Stepping back, I motioned toward the balcony. “We’ll dine outside.”

“We?” Braelyn asked, her eyes following my possessions as they pushed the cart forward. “Are they…?”

“Twins? Yes. Identical.” I motioned for her to follow them outside.

Her gaze shot to the bathroom. “I’ll just … uh … get dressed.”

“No need.” I held out my hand, waited for her to respond to the gesture.

She studied my outstretched arm like it was a viper preparing to strike, but she finally placed her long, dainty fingers against my palm, allowing me to lead the way out into the warm night. As we passed the bed, Braelyn tossed the towel to cover the pink toy, making me smile.

Touching her again … it had me wondering how the hell I’d managed to keep my distance from her since we arrived.

“Leave us,” I instructed Corvin and Bram when they’d finished setting things up on the small dining table. “Wait inside the room until I need you.”

I pulled out Braelyn’s chair, did my gentlemanly duty of helping her to sit before I took my place at her side. Bram had lit two candles, protecting them from the breeze with hurricane globes, which provided a romantic ambience for our meal. It was an interesting gesture, one I hadn’t requested but wasn’t surprised by. Bram tended to do little things like that. He was the romantic in the group.

I could see on Braelyn’s face she was confused by the setting, but I figured it would be easy enough to put her mind at ease by picking a topic that had little to do with seduction.

“I called Dr. Tate,” I informed her, draping the linen napkin in my lap before picking up my wineglass. “Ransom’s doing well. Last I talked to him, your brother was sleeping. He was still in the clinic, but Dr. Tate was going to move him to his villa when he awoke.”

She let out a soft sigh. Relief, no doubt.

“The two of you are close,” I mused.

Braelyn picked up her wineglass, took a small sip. “We are, yes. He’s the one who raised me.”

“Tell me about your parents,” I prompted.

Her eyes shot to my face, the amber color sparking from the candle glow. “My parents?”

“Yes. They’re the reason your brother took you, raised you, are they not?”

“They are, but—”

“Tell me about them,” I commanded softly.

Her eyes remained locked with mine, and for a brief moment, I thought she might argue. But then something shifted in her gaze, softened.

As I expected, Braelyn sighed, resigning herself to giving me what I demanded of her.

“I do my best not to think about them,” she began, “about my childhood. There aren’t any happy thoughts, nothing I look back on and miss.”

There was an aloofness to her tone, one that said she wanted to believe what she was saying. One thing I suspected about Braelyn, she cared deeply. I could see it in how she worried about her brother. It was the reason I’d insisted on frequent updates from Jasper, providing me with the information on Ransom’s status so I could relay it to Braelyn should she ask. And while she probably didn’t miss her parents, she missed what they should have been for her. I got the feeling she was hurt easily.

“That must be difficult,” I said, setting my glass down and draping my napkin in my lap when she picked up her fork. “Not having your family.”

“I’ve got Ransom. He’s the only family I need.” The chill in her tone warmed at the mere mention of her brother. “He’s been more of a parent to me than they ever were.”

She paused briefly, but I waited her out, allowed her to gather her thoughts while she picked at the food in front of her. In an effort to put her at ease, I, too, picked up my fork, began with the salad that had been prepared.

“Ransom’s eleven years older than me,” she continued. “He was always the one I turned to when I needed something. Even before we left. I didn’t have much of a choice. My parents were far too caught up in their own lives to worry about a couple of pesky kids.” Braelyn rolled her eyes. “Tax write-offs. I believe that’s what my mother called us. Needless to say, we didn’t have a normal childhood. But normal’s relative, I guess.”

That it was.

“At least I didn’t.” Braelyn took a small bite, chewed, her gaze roaming her plate, the table. Directed everywhere but at me. “Ransom was allowed to go to public school, but my parents had me homeschooled. And they were weird about it. Like it was important they kept me sheltered, away from other kids. They never told me why, but I was a perceptive child. I could hear them talking, knew they considered me a bargaining chip. I asked Ransom about it once.” She looked up briefly. “He told me not to worry about it, promised he would never let anything happen to me. I believed him because that was what he did. He watched over me.”

“He’s a good brother,” I said, simply to keep her talking.

“He is.” Her eyes were sad. “There were always so many people at our house. Usually men. They worked for my parents. Soldiers, they called them. Hell, they had weird titles for all of them. Names you hear in Mafia movies. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew what they did. Organized crime, my father liked to spout. The most profitable business