Managed (VIP #2)(97)

I hear him. I know he’s right about this. But his ugly conclusions and the way he jumped to them loom large as well.

Licking my dry lips, I make my voice as calm as I can manage. “Right now, the tour and whether I should be on it are the least of my worries.”

He frowns, tilting his head as if he can’t understand me. Part of me wants to laugh, only I know I’ll end up crying. Maybe we are too different, our priorities too far apart.

A knock on the suite door has us both flinching. Gabriel turns toward it, his mouth pinched, weariness lining his face. In this light, he’s almost haggard. He runs a hand over his eyes.

“That’s Jules. She’s here to give me an update—”

“I’ll leave you to it.” On wooden limbs, I head to the bedroom.

He doesn’t try to stop me.

And I don’t cry once I close the door behind me. I pack.





Chapter Twenty-Seven





Gabriel



* * *



“Report?” I ask from one of suite’s dining room chairs. My head is too heavy to hold itself up, so I rest it in the cradle of my hands.

“The girl you caught on the elevator is Jennifer Miller. She’s a roadie, working in lighting.” Jules’s voice is hesitant and soft.

Regrettable, but apparently I’m quite good at cowing women. A lance of pain drives through my heart. I clear my throat, having trouble finding my voice.

“Go on.”

Jules takes a breath that sounds more like a sigh. “According to her statement, she’d been wanting to hook up with Jax. When she saw him having trouble getting to the elevator, she offered to help.”

Well, give the girl points for being an opportunist. I shouldn’t care, but I’m so bloody bitter at the moment, it’s all I can do not to sneer.

“And that cockwank? How did he get in?”

From between my fingers, I see Jules’s lip quirk in a smile before she presses down on them. “He, ah, approached them at the elevator. Told Jennifer he was an old friend of…” Jules coughs, her eyes darting away.

“Of Sophie’s?” I offer. Goddamn it, it hurts to say her name. I don’t know how I manage to utter it without inflection.

Sophie. She retreated to our bedroom after I ripped into her worse than anyone I’ve ever had a go at. She went with quiet dignity, and I felt small and full of regret. I don’t even remember the last person I cared about with whom I’ve truly lost my temper. There’s a reason for that. I cut people open with my words, as surely as a surgeon with a scalpel.

That f*cktrumpet Martin, however… My hands curl into fists. It’s all I can do not to hunt the tit down and bash his f*cking gob in. A shudder works through me. I’m regressing back to my feral youth, when I was a few steps away from becoming a chavvy thug.

Jules watches me with weary eyes.

I force what I hope is a bland expression. “Well?”

“Yes, that’s what he said. And he offered to give them a hand. Jax let them both up.”

My hand is cold and clammy as I rub it over my face. “What happened in the room?”

“Ah, Jennifer says she started…ah, making out with Jax. He didn’t appear to mind.”

Which means he was so out of it, he let the twit do what she wanted. I wave a hand, encouraging Jules to speed things up. I can hardly stomach sitting here, listening to this. I want to pace. I want to hunt down Sophie and crawl into bed with her, beg her to forgive me for shouting.

No, I cannot be a complete doormat. She was in the wrong too. She lied, refused to explain, and held my exacting nature over my head. We’ll never go forward on equal ground if I’m the only one to admit my failings.

It’s not like you gave her much of a chance to explain, mate.

It’s not as though she tried to explain.

Sod it all, I’m arguing with myself now.

Jules is talking, and I force myself to focus.

“…Martin started taking pictures of them. Said he thought they looked cute together and Jennifer would like a…” Jules winces. “A souvenir.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Yeah,” she agrees quietly. “Anyway, Jax suddenly threw up. On Jennifer.”

She pauses, and our eyes meet. I can’t help but smile a little. Jules does too.

“Go on,” I say, fighting that smile.

“She runs, gets caught by Sophie, who apparently detained her, demanding to know what was going on, and tried to drag her back to the scene.”

My Sophie. She’d acted as I would have. Guilt settles in my throat like shards of glass.

“Jennifer broke free, and presumably that’s when you found her in the elevator.”

“Yes.” It had been an unwelcome surprise to discover a hysterical, vomit-covered woman in the elevator when the doors opened. Killian and I had stared at her in shock before snapping out of it and delivering her directly to a security guard manning the area.

With a sigh, I sit back in my chair. I ache. All over. And I know it is from sorrow. “Relay all of this to Killian and the rest of the guys.” Since I know full-well Killian will have told them everything by now. “I don’t want them thinking badly of Sophie.”

It hurts to say. It hurts to even think. Sophie hadn’t understood that the mere idea of them disliking her would be a wound in my heart. She’s too important to me for there to be discord.