Chapter 3
three
Gabriel
A fter a restless night I get up early and drive to the modeling agency’s location. Fate’s kind and there’s a parking spot directly across from their main entrance. The clock on the dashboard says I’m forty minutes early for the time Olivia was commanded to arrive. This gives me the opportunity to plan my next move.
When I offered her a job yesterday, she didn’t believe I was serious. She only shook her head and rolled her eyes. Then she turned and kept walking away. I struggled to keep from running after her like a forgotten puppy. The woman has a dignity that refuses to bow to adversity.
Today I need to convince her of my sincerity. Those rare moments I slept last night were filled with dreams of her modeling lingerie for the catalog. Or just for me. Those were the times I woke up with my hand wrapped around aching dick.
I’m not telling her that. I’d sound like a crazy stalker and I don’t want that unfavorable image of me in her head. Shit, even if she refuses to model, I want her working beside me. Even if she refuses me personally, I know she’ll be an asset to Angel Night.
I’ve settled on no course of action when twenty minutes later a bus stops at the corner and she descends the narrow steps. She looks frazzled. Like she’s slept about as much as I have. I can’t imagine what kinds of thoughts kept her awake. Being born into a successful family business, I’ve never been fired. Never had to apply for jobs or go through an interview process.
Maybe I should do like on that television show and go undercover. It’d have to be for a different company though. Angel Night is small enough everyone knows everyone, from me down to the housekeeping staff.
Jerking my brain back from that strange path, I watch Olivia. Her stride isn’t as sure as it was yesterday. In fact, she looks like she’s limping a bit. She’s got her purse and an empty backpack slung over her shoulder. Her casual slacks and flowy top are far from the business get up she had on yesterday. I like this look much better.
When she’s almost to the door, I exit my vehicle and dodge traffic to jog across the street. Surprise widens her eyes when she looks up and sees me. Stopping, she crosses her arms and looks me over from head to toe. It’s uncomfortable and stimulating at the same time. “What are you doing here?”
“Since I’m responsible for you being in this situation?—”
“Gabe.”
“I simply want to make sure Abbot doesn’t try to screw you over. I’d like to go in with you, but only with your permission.”
“I’ll admit I’m not looking forward to facing her. But I won’t be here long enough for her to really dig her claws in.”
“You need back up.”
After a long moment, she nods. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Together we enter the building and she’s immediately stopped by a security guard. “I’m sorry, Ms. Ross. Orders from upstairs is that I’m to accompany you to your desk then to Human Resources. I really am sorry, Olivia.”
She gives the older gentleman a smile. “It’s okay, Stan. Let’s just get this over with.”
He turns to me with a flat smile. “They’ll be able to assist you at the reception desk, sir.”
“No, I’m going with Olivia. To make sure she’s treated fairly.”
One of his grizzled eyebrows lifts then his lips stretch into a genuine grin. “Good. She needs looking out for.”
“Hey, I’m right here,” Olivia complains. “I do pretty good looking out for myself. Can we just get this over with?”
At Stan’s nod, we follow Olivia to the elevator and up a couple floors to a room crowded with desks in tiny cubicles. There’s a lot of movement and visual industry, although it feels disingenuous. I have no clue why a modeling agency needs so many desk workers, and the thought of making an investigative inquiry into their business practices takes root.
I’ll table that for later. Now my priority is to help Olivia through this mess.
We stop at a cubicle stuffed against the wall in a far corner. There’s barely room for the desk and chair. Olivia sighs and plops her backpack on the immaculate desktop. After stuffing a pair of tennis shoes in the bottom, she adds a few personal items. A framed photo of a small dog. A pot holding a fake succulent plant. A coffee mug.
She holds out a handful of pens toward Stan and he carefully examines them, plucking one from the pile and setting it back on the desk. The agency logo shines in the harsh light. “Thanks, Stan,” Olivia says. “I wouldn’t want to be accused of stealing office supplies.” She turns her sad smile towards me and lets the pens fall into the backpack. “And these are my favorite style of pens. I’d hate to leave them here.”
She zips the bag. “That’s it.”
That’s it? Two personal tchotchkes, a pair of shoes, and a few pens? She deserves so much more than this.
Human resources has all their required paperwork ready and Olivia uses one of her favorite pens to sign the needed documents before stashing her copies in the backpack. I thought we were going to make our grand escape without encountering Ms. Abbot, but when we return to the lobby she stands at the desk as straight and unmoving as a guardsman at Buckingham Palace.
“Ms. Ross,” she says in an icy tone then turns her attention to me. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Remaining silent, I press my palm to the small of Olivia’s back and steer her toward the door.
“This isn’t over, Mr. Winter.” Ms. Abbot glares at me.
Olivia holds her head high and although she’s putting on a brave face, she’s trembling. We need to distance ourselves from this viper. Once Olivia is standing on the sidewalk I turn and shake the guard’s hand. “Thank you for your help, Stan.”
“You take care of her,” he says in a low tone before returning to his place at the desk.
Ms. Abbot holds the glass door open and her attempted stare down lasts about twenty seconds before she makes a disgruntled sound in her throat and turns her back to me. Her threat was a definite promise and the sinking feeling I’ve underestimated her prompts me to hurry after Olivia.
“Let me take this.” I reach for the backpack.
“No, it’s not heavy. Thank you for being here. It helped more than I imagined. Especially with her hovering in the lobby like a spider.” She shudders. “Anyway, thanks.”
Tugging the backpack from her, I take her elbow and encourage her toward my car. She plants her feet against the concrete and refuses to move. Leaning closer, I inhale the fresh scent of her hair and nearly forget to breathe before whispering, “Don’t make a scene. She’s watching. We need to talk. Please, just come with me now.”
“Okay. But?—”
“We’ll talk in the car once we’re out of sight.”
With each block distancing us from the Abbot Agency she relaxes a little more and her answers to my ‘meeting a new person’ questions go from stilted single syllables to more natural conversation where she asks her own questions. Finally she realizes I’ve been driving aimlessly. “Thanks for helping me calm down. I didn’t realize how tightly I was wound up.”
“Anyone would need emotional down time after the past two days. How about we continue this over coffee somewhere. Or breakfast?”
She glances sideways at me from under her thick lashes. “I was too upset to eat last night, and too nervous this morning. Breakfast would be great. If you really want to.”
“I do. Can I take you to one of my favorite places? It’s not far from the Angel Night offices.”
She glances at her watch and draws her lower lip between her teeth. Staring straight ahead I’m able to hold back a groan. Olivia has no clue her affect on me. What she’s doing to my libido is going to be difficult to hide while I’m driving. “Is something wrong?”
“I need to get this last paycheck into the bank then pay my rent before noon. My landlord, well, he’s about as considerate as Abbot.”
“Not a problem. Just give me directions.”
She opens her mouth to argue and I draw my brows together and give her what I hope is a playful scowl. I can’t risk chasing her away. All she’s going through is my fault and I hope to redeem myself in her eyes.
Clutching her purse against the soft swell of her belly, she gives me the address. I struggle to keep from frowning. Not one of the best areas of town, especially for a single woman. As soon as it feels appropriate, I’ll encourage her to move. I attempt unsuccessfully to ignore the remainder of that thought. To move in with me.
The parking gods are with me again and there’s an open spot not far from her apartment. The bank’s across the street, so once her business is done there, I accompany her to her building. In places the red brick looks ready to crumble to dust. The glass entry door has cracks radiating from a hole that looks suspiciously like a bullet entry point. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I clench my fists and keep my thoughts to myself. She’s not safe here.
“Wait here. This shouldn’t take long.” She flattens one palm against my chest when I move to follow her. “It’ll be quicker if you stay here. Okay?”
No. It’s not okay but I nod. “I’ll wait.”
Her expression is cautious. “You can leave if you want. You don’t have to take care of me.”
The need to do just that races through my system. My heart pounds and my brain throbs with a chant of mine. A slow exhale enables me to speak normally. “I still owe you breakfast.”
The brightness of her smile is like the sun rising after a long, cold night. “Okay. I’ll be back quick as I can.”
Once she disappears into the building, I pace the sidewalk. Every two minutes I check my watch. I climb the few steps and check the mailboxes, finding the bent and torn remnants of the plastic tape embossed with her last name. She’s on the third floor. I peer up the narrow stairwell. Return to the street. Pace. Check my watch.
It's been over ten minutes. She wouldn’t ghost me, her backpack is still in my car. Anxiety heightens my senses, sharpens my thoughts. There’s no doubt. She’s in trouble.
Taking the stairs three at a time, I race to her floor. Her numbered door is cracked open and I pause to control my harsh breathing before bursting through the opening. There’s sounds of a scuffle. The rumble of a man’s voice and Olivia’s reply. “It’s all I have right now. I can… Stop. Don’t. I won’t…”
I slam the door open against the wall. There’s no one in the tiny kitchen-living room combination. The echo of a slap. I’m across the room in two strides. In the even smaller bedroom, a man with a worn tee shirt barely covering his beer belly has one hand wrapped around Olivia’s upper arm. She’s crouched beside the bed, one hand cupping her cheek, her eyes wide and frightened as she stares at him.
“You,” I grate out through clenched teeth. “Get your fucking hands off my woman.”