Rush (Breathless #1)(99)

“Fuzzy is better than you being in pain,” he said patiently. “Take it and I’ll take care of you. We’ll sit on the couch until you get sleepy and then we’ll go to bed. If you aren’t feeling better in the morning, you’re going to stay home.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, her dimple flashing in her cheek.

He gave her the pill and then handed her the half-empty bottle of black cherry soda and watched as she swallowed the medicine. Then he sat back down, immediately pulling her back into his arms. He settled the blanket over her body and wrapped both his arms around her, holding her securely in his embrace.

She gave a contented sigh as she burrowed her forehead against his neck.

“I’m glad I’m with you, Gabe. I don’t regret my decision even for a moment.”

She said the words so softly, he almost didn’t hear. And when he did realize what it was she said, he was gripped by a satisfaction so fierce that he couldn’t immediately respond. But there was also something odd about her statement. Almost as if it were a prelude to a good-bye. He wouldn’t even consider that possibility. He’d do whatever it took to ensure she didn’t go anywhere but right back to him.

“I’m glad you’re here too, Mia,” he returned softly.

Chapter thirty-five

Mia pulled a jacket on over her shirt as she prepared to leave Gabe’s apartment. He wouldn’t be happy when she showed up at his office. He’d left this morning with stern instructions that she was to stay home in bed and rest.

He thought she was getting sick, that yesterday had been the prelude to a cold or a stomach bug.

She had spent most of the day numb with shock and fear. She’d been so panicked that she hadn’t been able to think about what the best course was for her to take. And time was running out. It was Friday and Charles expected her to cough up the information by the end of the week.

Her stomach was in knots. She was a nervous wreck as she walked down to get into the car that would take her to Gabe’s office—her office.

She’d weighed all her options and the only one available to her was to go to Gabe, tell him the entire truth, and hope that he could take care of the matter. Betraying him wasn’t an option. She had no idea what kind of future they had, but it was time they took matters into their own hands and told Jace, effectively taking away any power Charles perceived he held.

The night before, she’d left her long-sleeved pajama top on even after going to bed with Gabe, citing that she was cold. In reality, she hadn’t wanted Gabe to see the bruises on her arm from where Charles had grabbed her. Gabe would have most assuredly noticed, and she would have had to explain before she’d had time to get things straight in her own mind and come to peace over her decision.

She rubbed over the length of her arm through the leather jacket, and bit her lip pensively as the car wove through late morning traffic.

There was still a drizzle in the air. No snowflakes or flurries. Not even sleet. But it was cold, gray and overcast, and the skies looked ready to burst at any moment.

When the driver pulled in front of the building, Mia ducked out and hurried toward the door so she didn’t get soaked again. She rode up the elevator, her anxiety heightening with every floor as she crept upward.

Eleanor looked surprised when Mia walked through the reception area.

“Mia, Mr. Hamilton said you were sick this morning. Are you feeling better?”

Mia smiled wanly. “A bit, yes. Is Gabe in his office?”

Eleanor nodded.

“See that we aren’t disturbed until he tells you otherwise,” Mia said in a quiet voice. “We have an important matter to discuss this morning.”

“Of course,” Eleanor replied. “Let me know if you want lunch delivered. I’ll see to it.”

Mia ignored the last and headed in the direction of Gabe’s office, her dread intensifying with every step. It sickened her to have to tell him of the pictures she saw. Of what Charles had threatened. She didn’t want to have to rehash what had happened in Paris all over again. She and Gabe had moved beyond that.

When she opened Gabe’s door, he glanced up, his brows drawn. When he saw that it was her, he immediately rose from his desk, a frown curving his lips downward.

“Mia? What the hell are you doing here? Are you all right? You should be at home in bed.”

He put his hands to her shoulders and pulled her into his chest, looking down at her face as if examining her for any signs of illness.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about, Gabe,” she said hesitantly. “It’s about yesterday…And what really happened.”

Gabe pulled away from Mia so that he could see the entirety of her face and expression, and his pulse accelerated as he took in the fear and dread in her eyes. She looked…terrible. And she never looked bad. But this morning she looked as though she hadn’t slept at all the night before. She looked tired and fragile.

He remembered thinking she looked as though she’d been crying yesterday. And now she was here suggesting that she hadn’t told him about something—something big—that had happened yesterday.

“Come sit down,” he said, his throat tight.

As he attempted to gently guide her toward the sofa across the room, she shook her head and pulled her hand from his grasp.

“I can’t sit, Gabe. I’m too worked up. I just need to tell you this and pray that you aren’t pissed—at me.”