34. Lily
Lily
L ast night, Gage made up for the two days we didn’t see each other.
I swear, we christened every wall in Larkin’s private room.
I kept my expectations low when it was time to leave the club.
I had a hard time containing my smile when Gage announced he was spending the night in my room with me curled up in his arms.
Best. Sleep. Ever.
I figured today he would be busy doing CEO stuff and I wouldn’t see him until later. He surprised me in the best possible way. He slipped out of my bed early and headed to the office to cram as much work as possible in the first hours of the day, so we can have an extended lunch.
When Mikki suggested we enjoy an afternoon French tea, I let her know I was hanging out with Gage.
She was more excited than I was.
Not that I know how that’s even possible, considering, I’ve been counting the minutes until I see him again .
I’m being reckless with my heart. In two days, I fly back to New York, and this fairytale will surely come to a screeching halt.
Gage hasn’t talked about us seeing each other or keeping in touch.
I didn’t bring it up.
I refuse to stress over things I can’t control.
I prefer to enjoy a wonderful day with a man that knows how to rock my world.
The billionaire mogul could be wheeling and dealing.
Instead, he chose to play hooky with me for a few hours.
He could’ve bought me the most expensive gift on the planet, and I wouldn’t be this elated.
Spending time with him trumps everything.
The ride up Pacific Coast Highway to Malibu in Gage’s German automobile was as exhilarating the second time around.
This is another perfect day to enjoy a picnic outside.
This time around, we’re in a different resting spot than the one we were at the last time.
Since it’s Wednesday, there’s only a smattering of people here and there, which is nice.
Instead of ordering sandwiches from the Pompadour Hotel, we dropped by one of Gage’s favorite Italian eateries. The lip-smacking chicken cutlet pesto hero sandwich is one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth… other than Gage’s cock.
My gaze swings in the brooding hottie’s direction.
He left his suit jacket and tie in his car. Even with his white shirt unbuttoned and sans tie, he gives off the vibes of a badass CEO.
He winks.
God, I have it bad for this guy.
“I thought I was being too greedy when I couldn’t decide between the cookies and cream flavor and the chocolate cookies and cream.” I feign he doesn’t affect me. “I’m glad I followed your advice and selected both.”
“Two ice cream flavors chock-full of sandwich cream cookies outsourced from a local bakery? O’Dwyer’s know what they’re doing.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I say. “I’m a huge fan of Oreo cookies, but I must say this gourmet option is outstanding.”
“You’re sure you don’t want me to help you with the ice cream?”
“No.”
“You didn’t even finish half your sandwich.” Gage reaches for my dessert.
I angle my body. “Hands off, buddy.” I was only able to handle a quarter of the colossal sandwich. I’m full, but I won’t admit it. I narrow my eyes at him. “You knew what you were doing when you picked that sandwich place. Your plan was to get me so full, you’d end up eating my ice cream.”
He finished his half pint of ice cream a while ago and he’s been watching me with amusement as I struggle through mine.
He gives one of my braids an affectionate tug. “The sun is beating hard. Your ice cream is going to melt. Take one more bite and give me the rest.” He attempts to grab my half pint.
I pull my ice cream away from his greedy hands. “Wash your mouth out with soap. Even when this”—I lower my eyes to the container I’m holding—“turns to the consistency of milkshake, I’ll still soldier on.”
“If you say so.” He chuckles.
Gage is probably going to have to carry me to his Wiesmann GT MF4, but I manage to finish the last spoonful of ice cream. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, showed you , but I refrain.
He rummages through the freezer bag and pulls out another container of ice cream.
He bought himself two ?
“Peanut buttercup ice cream.” He shrugs. “I couldn’t resist.”
“You have quite the appetite.”
On top of a chicken cutlet sandwich, a porchetta one, and three quarters of my sandwich, he ingested a half pint of ice cream in record time. True, he’s a big guy, but come on, the man is eating for three .
“I fucked you hard last night numerous times and again this morning. Other than the tall latte and two almond croissants I grabbed at the Pompadour’s café before hitting the road, I’ve been running on empty. I need sustenance.”
I shake my head.
“Want a spoonful?” He extends an arm.
“No, thanks. One more bite and this flowy dress will be formfitting.”
Gage nods.
As he stuffs his face with ice cream, I adjust myself on the blanket, leaning back on my hands to work on my tan.
Out of the blue, bits and pieces of the conversation I had with Dark Compulsion’s owner pop into my head.
I sit up straight and cross my legs underneath my floral maxi dress. “Can I ask you a question?”
He swallows a spoonful of ice cream. “Shoot.”
“Zeus-slash-Larkin said something last night I can’t shake off. Maybe I’m making too much of it, but it sounded profound… like it had to do with something more than me being your date.”
“What did he say?” His good mood fades.
I hesitate.
I twist my lips to the side, unsure if I have the courage to pursue this.
Remember, Lily. Curiosity killed the cat.
His eyebrows sink. “What do you want to know? ”
I take in a deep breath. “Larkin said, ‘Good on you for getting a tiger to change his stripes. Not an easy feat considering Lucius can be dead set in his ways. You’ve reformed him.’ What did he mean by that?”
His face falls.
Oh, no.
“Gage, I’m sorry?—”
He lifts a hand, cutting my sentence short.
He discards the container of ice cream in a trash bag, wipes his hands with a paper napkin, and disposes of it.
“Come closer.” He taps the blanket next to him.
I get on my hands and knees and crawl towards him. I sit where he indicates and adjust myself.
He cocks a brow.
“What?”
He leans in and drops a tender kiss on my lips. “Good girl. I didn’t even have to ask.”
I beam.
“I haven’t told this story in a long time.” The expression on his face is sombre. “I’m not sure how I’m going to react.”
His warning scares me, but I don’t let on. “I’m honored you’d be willing to share something that personal.”
He responds with a slow nod.
He doesn’t speak for a long beat.
“Three years ago, my mom died.”
I suck in a breath.
“Even though I was the baby of the family, since I was a boy––the only boy––Dad made me promise I’d always take care of my mom and my sisters. He was most concerned about Mom because he always said she had a soft heart. He was right. Mom was always too trusting.”
“Your dad loved your mom.”
“He did. And she loved him right back. ”
If we could all be that lucky in love.
“Mom was single for many years after my dad passed away,” he says.
“She always proclaimed she would never love again.” A cloud of sadness veils his green eyes, turning them stormy.
“My sisters kept nudging her, stating you’re allowed to fall in love more than once in your lifetime.
Since I was never much of a romantic, I stayed out of it.
Then, one day, Mom announced she had met Judson Timmons.
” His eyes drift in the distance for a beat.
“He was in his mid-forties, so a decade younger than Mom. He was a bit player?—”
“What’s that?”
“It’s industry talk to describe an actor who’s ranked higher than a background actor, but lower than that of a supporting actor.”
“I see.”
“Judson had one noteworthy supporting role, but struggled to get another. His side modeling gigs were his bread and butter.” He pinches his lips.
“You two didn’t get along?”
“From the moment I met him, I disliked him.” His eyes lower to his lap, and he curls his hands into fists. “I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I didn’t trust him. My sister Sara suggested I give the guy a chance.”
“Did your other sisters feel the same way?”
His gaze locks onto mine. “My two older sisters were in Europe, managing international StreamTunes offices, but they flew back and forth, so they met Judson. My eldest sister Lana was Switzerland. She couldn’t decide if she liked him or not.
My middle sister Marika was one hundred percent team Judson.
She was thrilled Mom hooked up with a hot man who was younger but still age-appropriate.
She chastised me for taking the oath I took with my father too far.
Mom was a grown woman and she could date––and fall in love––with whomever she wanted. ”
“You didn’t agree?”
“It killed me to bite my tongue, but I didn’t want to be labeled as the son who refused his mom’s happiness.
A year into their relationship, Judson proposed.
I put my foot down and told Judson point blank that hell would freeze over before I ever called him stepdad.
I didn’t leave room for argument. Mom scolded me for using my size to threaten her soon-to-be husband.
I towered over him when I explained how things were going to work between us.
It’s not my fault he was only five-ten. Marika wasn’t impressed, but she shut up when I asked her if she intended on calling Judson stepdad. ”
“Your sister was rooting for him.”
“She was. And she regretted standing by the idiot when we found out he was a lowlife.”
Yikes.
“I accompanied Judson and a bunch of his friends to Sin City for his bachelor party. I couldn’t get out of it without hurting Mom, but I wanted to be anywhere in the world except Vegas.
” He lets out a long breath. “There was something about the way he looked at women during the weekend that irked me. I guess my annoyance was written all over my face. His best friend approached me as I was brooding at the bar, and decided to educate me.”