Owned: A Mafia Menage Romance(179)

Lyle and Owen shot each other a look and then both gave me their full and complete attention. Having their eyes on me at the same time was intense, like a blast of sunlight you’re not expecting. Owen lowered his chin and dropped his eyes to my feet, sliding his gaze back up excruciatingly slowly.

He’s testing you. Hold on!

I didn’t move a muscle, just clenched my jaw and raised an eyebrow so that when he finished scouring my curves with his eyes and met my gaze, I would have an appropriately confident expression on my face.

“So, we should definitely talk,” Owen said in a low, dry voice. His gaze nearly pierced me but miraculously, I didn’t falter. I hadn’t even considered the possibility that I’d see both of them at the same time when I assembled my fortitude for this mission. I assumed it would only be Owen. I needed to get him on his own if I was going to have any chance of holding myself together.

“We should all talk,” Lyle added.

All?

What?

Owen sighed, his mouth open as though about to say something. He shot Lyle another glance, and Lyle quirked an eyebrow and nodded once.

“Right,” Owen said finally, as though something had been decided.

What just happened here?

“Tonight we have a… thing,” Lyle suggested. “We can discuss it there.”

“Yes!” Owen replied. “That’s an excellent idea. Brienne, will you accompany us to the Avery tonight? We’re hosting an event…. Give you a chance to meet the key players, get to know the different lines of business…”

Meet the key players… Lines of business… That sounds legit.

Oh my god I am in completely over my head.

“I’m not sure--” I stammered, feeling myself beginning to falter. My facade began to crumple at the edges and I wondered how much time I had left.

“You can tell us where you think you fit in,” Lyle offered reasonably. I saw a squint pass over his eyes. Could he tell I was bluffing, putting up a front?

I scanned the room over their heads as a last-ditch effort to seem like I had any kind of control over my faculties anymore.

“Uhmmm, yes I think I can do that,” I said, amazed that I still sounded halfway sane.

“Great!” Owen said, clapping his hands together once and then rubbing the palms in some very sexy circles.

Those are the hands that held me up.

I bit my lips together, aware how very close I was to making yet another moany-type noise. If I wasn’t careful, these guys were going to think I was a complete nympho.

“It’s black tie, starts at nine. Can we have a car pick you up?”

“I’ll meet you,” I countered, instantly and cringingly aware that my homeless status might not convey a professional appearance.

“And... Can you wear something like that blue thing from yesterday?” Lyle asked suddenly. I turned to him, my jaw falling open a little bit, unsure what to say. My brain suddenly went red-level alarm status.

Mission abort! Abort! Retreat!

“I’m sure I can find something appropriate,” I said cagily, watching to see if he looked away. He definitely did not.

“I know you can,” he said in a low, sultry voice, taking a half step toward me. The air between us practically crackled with electricity and I was tempted to just let it flow through me. I hadn’t felt this way in… well, ever.

Well, except for when Owen was in front of me.

“I’ll see you at nine then,” I croaked in a throaty whisper that used the last drop of composure I had.

He held my gaze for just another moment and I stayed as still as a wax model of myself, afraid I would shatter if I attempted anything more. Then he cut his eyes toward Owen and turned on his heel.

“Nine, then,” Owen repeated with a model-perfect grin, following his brother toward the doors.

I did it, I congratulated myself as they walked away, giving me a fine view of a pair of muscular asses in form-fitting trousers. I totally pulled it off. I was confident and not insane. I did not babble. I even pulled off the super-heated sexual tension thing like a proper bombshell.

They totally fell for it. They totally think that’s the real me. Melita is going to be so proud.

Oh my god. I am in so much trouble.





CHAPTER 7


“You shaved your chocha? What on earth made you do that?!”

“Wellllll…. I mean… I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea?”

“It’s a great idea,” Melita said, moving my suitcases under the wooden table with her foot and dropping the tablecloth over them. “It’s just a little, you know… Not really your brand, is it?”

“Well, no, it’s not my brand at all! I stood there panting and heaving like a porn star, when I was trying to be professional. I just wanted to seem confident, but it was like… I could not stop thinking about my crotch.”