Chapter 20
The sun was hitting my eyelids. Bright. Warm. Annoying.
I groaned, scrunching my nose. I tried to burrow deeper into the softness of the pillow, but my brain was already booting up.
System Online. Status: Married. Current Location: The Cloud Bed. Physical Damage: Left Arm (Ouchie).
I blinked one eye open.
Habit took over immediately. I rolled to my left, expecting to see the empty, cold expanse of the King-sized mattress where my husband usually isn't.
Empty.
"Typical," I mumbled, my voice raspy with sleep. "Gabby the Ghost."
I rolled onto my back, stretching my limbs like a starfish. My hand flopped over to the right side of the bed.
Thump.
It hit something.
Something solid. Something warm. Something that felt suspiciously like a human bicep.
I froze.
My brain did a little buffer wheel. Loading... Loading...
I turned my head slowly to the right.
There he was.
Gabriel.
He wasn't gone. He wasn't in the office. He wasn't conquering the stock market.
He was here.
And he wasn't wearing a suit! He was wearing... pajamas!
Well, technically they were black silk pajama bottoms and a gray t-shirt that hugged his chest muscles in a way that should be illegal, but still! Casual wear!
He was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, his head resting in his hand.
And he was looking at me.
His obsidian eyes weren't scary today. They were just... watching. Like he was observing a rare species of hamster waking up from hibernation.
"Hi!" I squeaked.
My face split into a massive beam. I couldn't help it! He was here!
I sat up—carefully, minding my sore arm—and stretched my arms wide.
"Good morning, Husband!" I chirped.
Gabriel blinked slowly. "Morning."
"Why are you here?" I tilted my head, my messy hair probably looking like a bird's nest. "Usually, you vanish! Like Batman! Poof!"
Gabriel's lips twitched. Just a tiny fraction.
"I live here," he answered dryly.
"Well, yes," I giggled. "But you usually live in your office. Or in the scary car. Or in the casino. But today you are in the bed! It is a miracle! Did you lose your job? Did you get fired from being a billionaire?"
"No," he said. "I am taking the morning off."
"Off?!" I gasped. "Voluntarily? Are you sick? Do you have a fever?"
I reached out to touch his forehead, but before I could, a furry missile launched itself onto the bed.
"WOOF!"
Primrose!
She bounced onto the mattress, her tail wagging so hard her whole body wiggled. She scrambled over Gabriel's legs (he didn't even kick her off! Green flag!) and attacked my face.
Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.
"Ack! Prim! No kisses! Morning breath!" I laughed, trying to shield my face.
She licked my nose. She licked my ear. She tried to lick Gabriel, but he gave her a Look, and she wisely decided to stick to me.
"Okay, okay!" I pushed her gently aside.
I looked back at Gabriel. He was watching us. He looked... calm.
Unlike last night, when he was cold and dismissive about my stab wound, today he looked different. Softer? Or maybe just less jagged.
He sat up. The movement was fluid and graceful.
He shifted on the mattress until he was sitting right next to me, his knee brushing against my thigh under the duvet.
Zap.
Electricity! Even through the Hello Kitty fleece!
"Give me your arm," he said.
"Huh?" I blinked. "Why? Do you want to hold hands? Because I am totally down for that!"
"The bandage," he said, nodding at my left arm. "It needs changing."
"Oh." My smile faltered a little bit. "Right. The robot attack."
(I decided to stick to the robot story. Or the cat story. Anything but the Syndicate story because I didn't want him to worry).
I slowly extended my left arm.
Gabriel took it. His large hand engulfed my wrist. His fingers were warm.
He didn't just grab it. He held it like it was made of glass.
With his other hand, he reached for the first aid kit that was sitting on the nightstand. (When did he get that? Was he planning this?).
He opened the kit. He took out scissors.
"Hold still," he murmured.
He began to cut the old bandage. Snip. Snip.
I watched him. His focus was intense. His brows were furrowed in concentration. He peeled the gauze away with such terrifying precision that I barely felt it.
The wound was exposed. It looked... icky. Red and angry.
I hissed through my teeth. "Sssst."
Gabriel stopped immediately. His eyes flicked to my face.
"Does it hurt?" he asked low.
"Just a sting," I whispered. "Like a bee kiss."
He didn't say anything. He took a cotton pad and soaked it in antiseptic.
He dabbed the wound. Dab. Dab.
He was so gentle. This man, who has hands big enough to crush a melon, was treating me like I was a porcelain doll.
"Gabriel?" I whispered.
"Hmm."
"About... about Thomas," I started nervously. "You know? The guy? The one who... accidentally hurt me?"
Gabriel's hand paused for a micro-second. Then he continued cleaning.
"Yes," he said.
"Did you..." I bit my lip. "Did you talk to him? Like I asked? Peacefully?"
Gabriel applied a fresh square of gauze. He taped it down smoothly. No wrinkles. Perfect.
"I handled it," he said.
"Handled it?" I tilted my head. "Like... you had a meeting? Did you use a PowerPoint presentation to explain why stabbing people is bad?"
Gabriel looked at me. His eyes were dark, but not angry.
"Something like that," he said. "He understands the consequences of his actions now. He will not bother you again."
"Really?" I beamed. "That is great! Thank you, Gabriel! You are a very good negotiator! Diplomacy is key!"
I frowned slightly. "Wait. You didn't... punch him, right?"
Gabriel finished the bandage. He ran his thumb over the tape to secure it.
"Of course not," he said.
"Phew!" I exhaled. "Good. Because violence is never the answer! Unless it is against a cockroach. Then violence is okay."
Gabriel looked at the fresh bandage. He seemed satisfied.
He didn't let go of my arm immediately. He held my wrist for a second longer, his thumb brushing over my pulse point.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
He could definitely feel my heart racing.
He cleared his throat. Ahem.
He looked away, staring at the wall.
"You can..." he started. He paused. He looked uncomfortable.
"You can call me Gabby."
...
...
WHAT?!
My jaw dropped. My eyes popped out. Primrose stopped panting.
Did I hear that right?
"Gabby?" I squeaked. "You... you permit it? The nickname? The forbidden name?"
Gabriel—no, Gabby—looked pained. He looked like he was swallowing a lemon whole.
"If you must," he muttered. "It is... acceptable."
"OMIGOSH!"
I clapped my hands together. Smack!
"Gabby! Gabby! Gabby!" I chanted. "It's official! We are on a nickname basis! This is a milestone! This is Level 2 of Marriage!"
I was so happy I couldn't contain myself. My body moved on its own.
I leaned forward. I puckered my lips.
Kiss attack!
I aimed for his cheek.
Gabriel flinched.
He jerked his head back, his eyes widening slightly. It was a reflex. Like he expected me to bite him.
I froze mid-lean. My lips were still puckered in the air.
Oh.
He flinched.
I pulled back slowly. I felt a little sting of rejection. Just a tiny one.
He really doesn't like affection. Or maybe he thinks I have cooties.
"Sorry," I whispered. "Overexcited. Too much energy."
Gabriel looked at me. He looked... guilty? No, Gabriel doesn't do guilt. He looked frustrated.
"It is..." he started, then stopped. He ran a hand through his hair.
I decided to compromise.
"Shoulder!" I announced.
I leaned in again, but this time I aimed lower. I pressed a quick, loud kiss onto his pajama-clad shoulder.
Mwah!
"There!" I grinned. "Safe zone! No flinching allowed on the shoulder!"
Gabriel stared at me. He looked at his shoulder. Then he looked at my smiling face.
He let out a breath. His shoulders relaxed.
I sat back against the headboard, pulling my knees to my chest.
Since we were having a Moment—a calm, bandage-changing, nickname-approving Moment—I decided to be brave.
I decided to ask The Question.
The one that had been eating my brain since the night he came home smelling like a brewery.
"Gabby?" I asked softly, picking at the duvet cover.
"What."
"Can I ask you something? About... the other night? When you came home drunk?"
Gabriel stiffened. The wall came back up. "I told you I was working."
"I know," I nodded. "But... when I hugged you... well, when I smelled you..."
I looked up at him through my lashes.
"You smelled like perfume," I whispered. "Not my perfume. My perfume is Strawberry Delight. This was... Midnight Seduction or something. It was heavy. And musky."
Gabriel went perfectly still.
"And," I continued, my voice trembling a little. "You tried to... you know... do the deed. But then you stopped. And you looked mad at yourself."
I took a deep breath.
"Do you..." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Do you have a girlfriend? Or... a mistress? Is she the one who smelled like musk?"
Gabriel stared at me. His mouth opened slightly, then closed.
He looked genuinely stunned.
"A mistress?" he repeated.
"Yes," I nodded sadly. "Rich men have them! It is a statistic! I read it in Forbes... or maybe Cosmopolitan. But if you do... you have to tell me. Because I don't want to be the sad wife waiting at home while you are with Musk-Lady."
Gabriel shifted. He turned his whole body toward me.
"Aleesha," he said firmly. "Look at me."
I looked at him.
"There is no mistress," he stated. "There is no girlfriend. I do not cheat."
"But the smell!" I argued. "It was there! My nose is very accurate! I can smell bacon from three blocks away!"
Gabriel cleared his throat. He looked uncomfortable again.
"I was at a... establishment," he said carefully. "A casino. It was crowded. A woman... brushed against me. That is all."
"Brushed?" I narrowed my eyes. "Like... shoulder bump? Or... clingy brush?"
"Accidental contact," he lied (I think he lied, he looked shifty!). "It meant nothing. I removed myself from the situation immediately."
I studied his face. He looked serious.
"Really?"
"Yes."
I let out a breath. "Okay. I believe you."
I fiddled with my fingers.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"For what?"
"For... not giving you what you want," I said, gesturing to the space between us. "The heir. The... Baby Lucian."
I looked down at my Hello Kitty pajamas.
"I know I am supposed to be an Asset. I know I signed the contract. But... I get nervous. And scared. And I cry. And it makes you mad."
I looked up at him.
"But I don't want you to go to bars," I blurted out. "Or casinos! Or anywhere where women smell like musk and 'brush' against you!"
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because!" I huffed, my face turning tomato red.
"Because I have a crush on you!"
There. I said it.
I covered my face with my hands. Peeking through my fingers.
"A huge crush!" I muffled. "Like... massive! You are handsome! And smart! And you saved my curry! And you fixed my arm! So I am jealous! Okay? I am a jealous wife! I am possessive!"
Silence.
Oh no. I made it weird.
I slowly lowered my hands.
Gabriel was staring at me. He wasn't scowling. He wasn't rolling his eyes.
He was just... staring. Intensely. Like he was trying to solve a very complicated math equation and the answer was 'Pink'.
He blinked.
He nodded. Just once.
"Noted," he said.
Noted? NOTED?!
"Is that it?" I asked. "Noted?"
"Yes," he said. He stood up from the bed.
"Go shower," he commanded.
"Huh?"
"Shower," he repeated. "And get dressed."
He walked to the closet. He opened the door. He stood there for a second, looking at the explosion of colors in my section.
He reached in and pulled something out.
He tossed it at me.
It was my favorite dress. The Baby Pink Sundress with the Ruffles.
"Wear this," he said.
I caught the dress. I looked at it. I looked at him.
"Pink?" I asked. "You want me to wear... pink? Voluntarily?"
Usually, he looks at my pink clothes like they are radioactive waste.
"Yes," Gabriel said. He wasn't looking at me. He was looking at his watch. "Pink."
"Where are we going?" I asked, hopping off the bed. "Is it a business meeting? Do I need to bring a notepad? Should I bring onigiri?"
Gabriel turned to face me. He put his hands in his pockets.
He looked... almost smug.
"Clause One," he said.
My brain spun. Clause One? Contract?
Loading...
Clause 1: Ice cream dates. At least once a week.
"No way!" I screamed. "An Ice Cream Date?! A real one?! With you?!"
"Go shower," he said, hiding a smirk (I saw it! He smirked!). "Before I change my mind."
"GOING!"
I sprinted to the bathroom. Zoom!
★
Twenty minutes later, I was ready.
I wore the pink dress. I put on my white sandals. I put a white ribbon in my hair. I sprayed myself with Strawberry Delight (take that, Musk-Lady!).
I walked out to the living room.
Gabriel was waiting. He had changed too.
He wasn't wearing a suit.
He was wearing... jeans. Dark wash denim jeans. And a black polo shirt. And... white sneakers.
He looked like a catalogue model for "Rich Dad on a Weekend."
My heart did a somersault. Flip!
"You look casual!" I noted. "It is weird but I like it!"
"Let's go," he said, opening the door for me.
We went down to the garage. But instead of Sean driving the Tank, Gabriel walked past the SUV.
He walked to a sleek, silver sports car. A convertible.
"Whoa," I breathed. "Is this a Transformer?"
"It is an Aston Martin," he corrected.
He opened the passenger door.
"Hop in."
He drove. He drove!
Usually, Gabriel sits in the back and looks at stocks. But today, he was driving with one hand on the wheel, the wind blowing his dark hair. He looked so cool. Like James Bond, but with more tattoos.
We drove through the city. The sun was shining. The wind felt nice on my face.
I looked at him.
"Are we really going for ice cream?" I asked, just to be sure.
"Yes," he said.
"Will you eat some?"
"No."
"Will you watch me eat some?"
"Yes."
"Creepy, but okay!" I giggled.
We arrived at Scoops of Joy.
Gabriel parked the expensive car right in front, probably illegally, but nobody tells an Aston Martin what to do.
We walked in.
The shop was bright and colorful. It smelled like waffle cones.
"Order whatever you want," Gabriel said, leaning against the counter. He took out his black card. The heavy metal kind.
"Can I have three scoops?" I asked.
"Have ten," he said.
"I love you!" I blurted out.
He glared at me. "Aleesha."
"Sorry! I love... the card!" I corrected.
I ordered a massive sundae. Strawberry, Vanilla, and Chocolate. With sprinkles. And a cherry.
We sat at a small round table by the window.
I ate happily. Nom, nom, nom.
Gabriel sat opposite me. He had an espresso (boring!). He watched me eat.
He didn't look bored. He looked... focused. He watched me lick the spoon. He watched me get a little bit of foam on my nose.
He reached out with a napkin and wiped my nose.
Gentle.
My heart hammered.
"You are messy," he murmured.
"It is part of my charm," I grinned.
Ding-a-ling!
The shop door opened.
"Aleesha?"
I froze mid-bite. That voice! Like a harp!
I turned around.
Standing there, holding a cup of mint chocolate chip, was Eli.
Angel Boy!
He looked amazing. He was wearing a beige sweater (even in this weather? Fashion icon!) and khaki pants. His hazel eyes lit up when he saw me.
"Eli!" I shouted, waving my spoon. "Hi!"
I stood up. "What are you doing here?"
"Getting ice cream," he laughed, walking over. "Citrus sorbet was out, so I got mint."
"Citrus!" I clapped. "That is your scent! I told my husband about it!"
I froze.
Husband.
I slowly turned to look at Gabriel.
Gabriel was... sitting. But he wasn't relaxed anymore.
He was sitting very straight. His legs were spread wide. His arms were crossed over his chest. His biceps were bulging against the black polo.
And he was staring at Eli.
If looks could kill, Eli would be a puddle of mint chocolate soup on the floor.
Gabriel's eyes were narrow. His jaw was clenched. He was radiating dark, "I-will-buy-this-building-and-evict-you" energy.
"Oh!" I realized. Introductions!
I gestured to Eli. "Gabriel, this is Eli! The one I met at school! He smells like sunshine!"
Gabriel didn't blink.
I gestured to Gabriel. "And Eli, this is... Gabby. My husband."
Eli's smile faltered for a second. He looked at Gabriel. He looked at the tattoos peeking out from Gabriel's sleeve. He looked at the terrifying aura.
"Husband," Eli repeated. "Oh. I didn't know you were... married."
"Happily," Gabriel said.
His voice was a growl. Low. Threatening.
Gabriel stood up.
He towered over Eli. He stepped into Eli's personal space.
He extended his hand.
"Gabriel," he said.
Eli looked at the hand. He looked a little nervous. But he was polite!
"Eli," he said, taking Gabriel's hand.
They shook.
I watched.
Gabriel squeezed. I saw his knuckles turn white. I saw the tendons in his arm pop. Eli winced. His smile turned into a grimace. He tried to pull his hand back, but Gabriel held on.
"Nice to meet you," Gabriel said, staring dead into Eli's eyes. "I hear you smell like citrus."
"Uhh... thanks?" Eli squeaked.
Gabriel finally let go.
Eli rubbed his crushed hand. "Well! Nice meeting you both! I have to... go! My ice cream is... burning! I mean melting!"
He backed away. "Bye Aleesha!"
"Bye Eli!" I waved.
He ran out of the shop.
I sat back down. I looked at Gabriel.
He sat back down. He looked smug. Like a cat that just ate the canary.
"That was nice!" I said, digging back into my sundae. "You shook his hand! You are making friends!"
Gabriel took a sip of his espresso.
"He has a weak grip," he stated. "Inefficient."
I giggled. "You are impossible."
I looked at him. My scary, jealous, pink-dress-buying husband.
"Hey Gabby?"
"What."
"I really do have a crush on you."
He looked at me over his coffee cup. His eyes softened. Just a tiny bit.
"Eat your ice cream, Wife," he said.
But I saw it.
Under the table, his foot nudged mine.
And he didn't move it away.