Chapter 8 - Gabriel #2
I fully expected to feel rage, or at least the jealousy my mother had been such an expert in. Here was my Alpha, lusting after someone else. An Omega, who could fulfill him in ways I never could. A woman perfectly designed to play on my every insecurity.
Surely there was a pang in my chest, but then I thought of little Bridget, the sweet smell of her in my arms, and the overwhelming need I’d felt to protect her.
Her brilliant smile and slightly awkward manner.
She wasn’t some harpy trying to steal my Alpha.
She was a beautiful, delicate creature that I felt drawn to, if in a different way than Andrew.
I’d never been with a woman, though I knew Andrew had. I could appreciate a beautiful woman, but the desire to go any further than a flirtation, or one drunken kiss at a nightclub in Milan, had never struck me.
“I need you to respond before I go insane,” Andrew said, drawing me from my thoughts. His arms were still around my waist. “I’m sorry. I just thought I should be honest.”
“Thank you, amore. For your honesty.” My thoughts were getting tangled in my head, stuck between my native language and English.
A bit of my frustration at being unable to express myself must have pulsed down the bond because Andrew gripped me a little tighter, remorse flowing freely.
“Non ce l’ho con te, mi amore. I am not angry.
I am just… surprised. At not being angry. ”
“You’re not?” He tilted my face up to meet my eyes. His green eyes were fierce and sad.
“No,” I said truthfully. “Bridget is lovely. I am not surprised you are attracted to her.”
“I would never act on it.”
I patted his cheek. “I know mi amore. Lucky for you, I can feel here how much you love me.” I tapped my finger on my chest. “I admit, I am also drawn to her.”
The bolt of lust from Andrew was so immediate that I had to laugh. “Not like that,” I admonished. “But I do like her. And I worry about her, having no one to protect her.”
“What are you saying?” Andrew asked, a bit of hope in his eyes.
“I am saying…” I tried to find the right words. “I would be happy to get to know her. And maybe something could happen. But you keep your cock to yourself, or I will cut it off.” I gripped him roughly through his trousers, and he hissed, desire spiking down the bond again.
“Mmmm, I do like it when you’re jealous,” he growled.
I squeezed him tighter, and he sucked in a rough breath. “Quando torniamo a casa, ti scoperó,” I promised darkly. He must have understood the intent, if not the words, by how he hardened in my palm.
I released him with a smile.
We arrived fashionably late at the historic hotel where the gala was being held, far from the rather industrial part of town where the clinic was located. After we checked our coats, we were shown to the glittering ballroom, already full of the city’s wealthiest people.
The twist was that, since Dr. Davis specialized in sports orthopedics, there were plenty of other professional athletes besides the usual gray-haired crowd.
Andrew nodded politely to Arturo De La Rosa, who’d undergone shoulder surgery with Dr. Davis then won the French Open the following year.
He was the reason we’d initially consulted with Davis.
I felt Andrew’s frustration and jealousy and redirected him before he could really brood. “Where is the bar?”
The bar was at the far end of the room, past the tables set for a plated dinner and a gleaming hardwood dancefloor.
It was rare that anyone danced at these events, but it wasn’t unheard of at the end of the night if the drinks were strong enough.
The room was a spectacle in itself. It was long, with soaring painted ceilings featuring frescos clearly inspired by my home country.
Graceful arches lined each side of the room.
On the right-hand side were a series of huge, two-story windows with billowing white curtains, while on the left, there were four balconies, hung with the same diaphanous fabric.
Three chandeliers, heavy with crystal, hung in a line and bathed the room in warm light.
“Dr. Davis is putting your money to good use,” I teased Andrew as we made our way to the bar. He was only stopped once, by a man with thick white hair and a red face, who told Andrew it was ‘a damn shame’ about his knee.
“We’re all rooting for you, son,” the man said. I had never seen him before in my life. I could feel Andrew’s frustration boiling right under the surface.
“Thank you so much. Have a lovely evening,” Andrew said and shook his hand.
When we were far enough away, I leaned to whisper in his ear. “Who was that?”
“I don’t know. Someone who thinks their patronizing bullshit is something I’m dying to hear,” Andrew said. “But I’m here as a favor to Patrick, so I can play the game for one night.”
I bit my tongue before I could ask why ‘Patrick’ was worthy of favors at all. Andrew didn’t need to be antagonized when he was already so on edge.
He ordered us cocktails — an Old Fashioned for him and a negroni for me — then turned to survey the room. There was a sense of anticipation in the bond; we were both on the lookout for Bridget.
I needed to see her again to confirm she was alright after leaving the room so suddenly.
But there was also a part of me that wanted to see whether she was as beautiful as I remembered.
It was hard to be threatened when I could physically feel Andrew’s love and desire, but perhaps I wasn’t as sanguine as I’d thought back at the apartment.
After an interminable dinner where Dr. Davis asked for more funding to research breakthrough treatments and two more cocktails, we’d finally reached the schmoozing portion of the evening.
Andrew was drawn into conversation with a group of elderly women who asked me to take a photo of them. That was when I spotted her.
Bridget was standing alone, holding an empty glass of champagne, on the side of the room, directly below a balcony. She was looking up toward the ceiling, and I got the sense she was just pretending to admire the architecture to pass the time.
“I will be right back, amore,” I murmured to Andrew, leaving him in the clutches of the women who were now asking for tips on their tennis games. I wanted a chance to speak to Bridget alone, so I skirted the edge of the room to sidle up beside her.
“Ciao, carrissima.” She jumped slightly in surprise. I handed her a full glass of champagne, took the empty flute from her hand, and deposited it on a passing waiter’s tray. “You look splendid tonight.”
She did. Her dress was a pastel blue that complimented her eyes, with sheer long sleeves and a flowing skirt that brushed the tops of her knees. With her blonde hair flowing loosely around her shoulders, she looked like an ice princess.
“Oh. Hello. Thank you, so do you.” She went to take a sip of champagne, then seemed to think better of it. “I, um, didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
“Andrew is always being invited to these events. He is good at charming the old ladies out of their money.” I pointed to where Andrew was still surrounded by them. To his credit, he looked fully engaged in the conversation.
I turned back to Bridget and placed a hand on her elbow. “I do not want to make you uncomfortable, but I have been worrying about you. Are you alright?”
Bridget blushed even brighter red. She tapped her fingernail against the glass. “I’m fine. That was… embarrassing to say the least. But I appreciate you both, um, helping me.”
“Of course.” I didn’t push for any more information about why her mother had caused such a powerful reaction. “You are unbonded, yes?” I asked instead, even though I knew the answer.
She looked wary. “Is that a problem?”
I laughed. “No, you misunderstand me. That is the only explanation for such a beautiful, scientific genius such as you to attend this event alone.”
Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and she smiled. “I didn’t realize I liked flattery so much. Feel free to keep complimenting me.”