The Pawn (Endgame #1)(29)

His smile spreads, slow and unbearably sexy. A man like him has no right to look that handsome. He should look like his insides: dark and cruel. “Good,” he says simply. “It will be more fun.”

She told me other things, that by opposing him I would make him desperate for more. I don’t share that with Gabriel. He wouldn’t be afraid. He’d like the challenge of it.

He pushes back from me, his lids lowered. “We’re leaving.”

My hands tighten on his jacket. Every time I squeeze the fabric, a faint burst of masculine spice fills the air. “I have to go home, at least. I’m not trying to control you, but my dad—”

“He’s taken care of.”

I suck in a breath because that sounds more like a threat than reassurance. “What does that mean?”

“A nurse is already with him. Tomorrow morning she’ll be replaced with the day nurse.”

How did he manage that so quickly? Except that’s what money can do. It was only a year ago that I had money, my father’s money, but I’ve almost forgotten how powerful it can be.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Christ.” He cups his hand around my neck, his fingers tightening enough to make me gasp. “Do you know what I would do to a man who questioned my word?”

Don’t give in. I meet his gaze even though my eyes are watering, my lungs are burning. “Then do it,” I whisper. “If you don’t want to fuck me, then fucking do it.”

He looks at me like I’m some kind of otherworldy species. Then he grins, for a fleeting second seeming unaccountably younger. His hand falls away, and I blow out a breath. “You’ll have to trust me, little virgin. If I wanted your father dead, he would be.”

A shiver runs through me. The words shouldn’t be reassuring, but somehow they are. For Gabriel Miller the most important thing is his word, which is why my father’s cheating had to be punished. Which means that I can trust him…up to a point.

He won’t lie to me, but he would honestly hurt me.

A buzz comes from the table with the drinks, and he crosses the room to his phone. A quick glance at the screen. “My car is outside.”

I look down at my bare legs. The jacket is large enough to cross over my front, but one wrong step, one gust of wind, and they’ll see everything. “But…”

His expression turns dark. He reaches for me, and I flinch. Eyes of burnished gold narrow. When he grasps me behind my neck, I can’t help the low sound of animal fear that escapes me. With only that touch on my body, he leads me out of the room and into the hallway. Distantly I hear the sound of raucous laughter, of feminine moans. Did Damon bring out more women for them, nonvirgin consolation prizes?

Holy shit. A million dollars.

We head the other direction, toward the front door. I cringe as the door opens, revealing slick pavement and a driver standing beside a limo. By luck or by design, there’s no one else on the street.

I take one step over the threshold and then shriek as my entire body is lifted into the air. My bare feet never touch the wet concrete. I’m sideways in Gabriel’s arms, the jacket askew, hopelessly revealed for anyone to see. I only catch a glimpse of the valet averting his eyes before I’m tossed unceremoniously onto the leather seats. Gabriel steps inside after me. The limo glides forward.





Chapter Fifteen





As armor goes, the suit jacket leaves a lot to be desired. It has beautiful stitching, expensive fabrics, but it’s tailored to fit a man much larger than me. And it has the musky scent of him, a constant reminder that we’re both possessions. Soon I’ll smell like him too.

He deposits me in a room as easily as he might sling his jacket over the chair. It’s a strange room but a comfortable one. A deep-set wraparound couch fills most of the space, the pillows covered with canvas that has sketches of random objects—an antique typewriter, an old-looking telescope. One wall has exposed brick, not the industrial red brick of Justin’s loft, but a beige and brown mosaic that feels almost soft. A large burnished iron chandelier casts yellow light on the dark wooden beams that crisscross the white ceiling.

On a small end table there’s a shiny silver phone with a circle for numbers. I wonder if it’s functional. And if it is, I should probably call home and make sure a nurse is actually with my father.

Then again, I already did our evening routine before I left for the auction. I might use the time better by taking a drink from the bar setup with a copper rolling cart. How hard will this be? How much will it hurt? Judging by the way he cornered my body against the wall in the Den, estimating the size of his body relative to mine, quite a lot. Something amber-colored or even clear ought to fortify me.

Then the door opens, and Gabriel stalks inside. He reclines on the corner of the large sectional, one leg slung over the other, his shirtsleeves rolled up, revealing deeply tanned forearms. He isn’t a man who gives orders from the comfort of an air-conditioned penthouse office.

“Getting comfortable?” he asks, his expression unreadable.

“Should I be?”

“You’ll be here for a month,” he says, which doesn’t really answer the question.

“In this room?” I ask, keeping my tone bland. Like his. “In this suit jacket? Or will there be a bed and clothes at some point?”