Managed (VIP #2)(91)

We arrive at our hotel in Naples all too soon. Kill John is doing a show tonight, and then we’re headed up to Milan, and finally Bern in Switzerland.

Gabriel takes my hand as we walk into the lobby. I wouldn’t have expected it, but he loves holding hands. Whenever we’re in close proximity, he finds a way to thread his fingers with mine, his thumb caressing my knuckles or the back of my hand as if touching me soothes him.

One evening during our vacation, I sat with him on the terrace, me drinking wine and him playing with my hand, looking down at it as if he wasn’t sure how he’d arrived at the place were he could freely touch me.

I’d smiled at him then, and he’d tugged me onto his lap. He put his hands to better use after that. And I’d licked wine from his skin until he shivered and growled and demanded dirty things of me in that bossy, manly way of his.

A wistful sigh escapes me, and Gabriel gives me a squeeze. “What’s that all about, chatty girl?”

“I don’t want to say.”

“Which only makes me want to know more. Talk to me, Darling.”

We reach the elevators, and he hits the up button. I shake my head, but give in.

“I’m just being ridiculous and greedy. I already miss it being just the two of us.”

His brows draw together, and he takes a step closer, wrapping me up in his scent and the strength of his arms. Warm fingers slide to my nape.

“Where we are is simply a matter of geography.” Soft lips brush my cheek, and his voice rumbles in my ear. “Remember, chatty girl? I’ll never truly be apart from you because you’re always in here.” He takes my hand and puts it against his temple as he did that night backstage.

I smile and rest my cheek against his chest where his heart beats strong and sure. “And in here.”

“Precisely.”

I love him. I love him so much it doesn’t feel real. I love him so much it terrifies me a little. I’ve never been in love before. I don’t have any experience with processing the emotion. How can it make a person so happy and yet so afraid? I can’t lose him. I can’t. My heart won’t survive.

But he’s here, holding me as if he’ll stay right here, giving me comfort for as long as I need it.

The elevator dings, and I step back. That’s when I see him. He’s looking a little worse for the wear, with a sunburn on his face, but I’d recognize him anywhere.

The bottom falls out of my stomach, and I swallow hard, feeling dangerously close to throwing up.

He’s looking right at me from his spot across the lobby. The calculating glint in his eyes tells me he knows exactly who Gabriel is, and he’s figuring out how to use the knowledge that we’re obviously together.

A cold sweat breaks out along my skin as Gabriel puts his hand on the small of my back and guides me into the elevator. The last thing I see before the doors close is Martin’s smug grin and ugly wink, as if to say, “I’ll be in touch soon.”





Chapter Twenty-Five





Sophie



* * *



We need to talk.

I stare at the text on my phone, and my rage grows to a black haze that blurs the edges of my vision. My gut churns. That motherf*cker still has my number. I’m sorry I didn’t change it long ago. But it wouldn’t have mattered; Martin always finds a way to get what he wants.

My stomach lurches, and I press a hand to it.

I should tell Gabriel that Martin is skulking around the lobby. But I don’t want to. Speaking his name is like calling forth the devil. I don’t want to remind Gabriel of what I did. Of course he knows, but seeing Martin, visually linking him with me, will make it more real. More pungent. Because that’s what Martin is: a foul odor hanging around, stinking up the place. The bastard wants to talk. It takes little imagination to discern about what.

A breeze blows in from the harbor. I huddle down in the lounge chair on the balcony, drawing my knees to my chest. It’s not cold out here, but I’m freezing inside, while my skin burns hot.

“Sophie.” Gabriel’s face hovers in front of me, a frown marring his brow.

Startled, I blink and look around, taking in the dark sea and the lights along the shore. “Yes?”

He sits on the foot of the lounger. “I called your name three times.”

“Sorry. I…” I don’t know what to say, so I shrug.

He assesses my face, worrying. “What’s going on in that head, chatty girl?”

“I don’t feel well.” It’s true. I want to climb under the covers and cry. “Too much driving on mountain roads, I guess.”

The cool press of his fingers to my brow almost has me weeping, and I have to blink several times to keep from losing it.

His frown deepens. “You feel warm.”

“And you feel nice and cool.” I force a smile. “Kiss me and make it all better.”

He leans in and kisses my forehead. But he’s on a mission. “I’m serious. I want you to stay in tonight. I’ll text Dr. Stern and have her come look you over.”

“No, don’t,” I say to Gabriel. “I’m fine. I’ll be better off working.”

“Bollocks to that.” Without an apparent effort, he scoops me up and carries me inside. Despite myself, a little thrill runs through me. I’ve never been carried around, or handled as if I were precious. And though I’m not really sick, his care makes me want to cling to him and cry my troubles away.