Chapter 48
The Strawberry Frappe was empty. All that was left was the sad, slurpy sound of the straw hitting the bottom of the plastic cup. Schlurp.
I stared at the pink residue. Even sugar couldn't fix me today.
I felt like a crumpled piece of paper. A crumpled, suspended, honor-less piece of paper.
I picked up my phone. My fingers were stiff and sore.
I dialed the only number that mattered.
Ring... Ring...
"Aleesha?"
His voice. Deep. Calm. Like an anchor in a storm.
"Gabby..." I whispered, my voice wobbling like jelly. "Can you... can you pick me up? I'm at the cafe. I... I don't have money for a taxi. And my feet hurt. And my soul hurts."
"I am ten minutes away," he stated. "Stay inside."
Click.
He hung up. Of course. He is the King of Efficiency.
Exactly nine minutes and forty-five seconds later, the black Aston Martin pulled up to the curb. It looked like a sleek, dangerous shark in a sea of normal cars.
I walked out of the cafe. I kept my head down. I didn't want anyone to see my puffy eyes.
I opened the passenger door and slid in. The smell of leather and Gabriel's cologne (sandalwood and expensive secrets) filled my nose.
"Hi," I whispered.
Gabriel didn't start the car immediately. He turned in his seat to look at me. His dark eyes scanned my face, cataloging every tear stain, every smudge of mascara.
Then, his gaze dropped.
To my hands.
They were resting in my lap, clenched into loose fists. My right hand—the one that delivered the Fist of Justice to Kevin's face—was throbbing. The knuckles were turning a nasty shade of purple and blue.
It looked like a bruised plum. Huhu.
Gabriel's jaw tightened. I saw a muscle feather in his cheek.
He reached out. His large, warm hand gently took my wrist. He lifted my injured hand as if it were made of fragile glass.
"Who did this?" he asked.
His voice was terrifyingly quiet. It wasn't a shout. It was a whisper that sounded like a knife sliding out of a sheath.
I bit my lip. "I... I did it. To a face."
Gabriel stared at the bruise. He ran his thumb feather-light over the purple skin.
Then, he lifted my hand to his lips.
He kissed the bruise.
Soft. Tender. Lingering.
My breath hitched. The pain in my hand seemed to melt away, replaced by a warm tingle that shot straight to my heart.
"Who was the face?" he demanded against my skin. "I require names, Aleesha."
I sniffled. "It was... Kevin. And his friends. The Back Row Boys."
"Kevin," Gabriel repeated the name like he was memorizing a target coordinates. "And the others?"
"Mark, Jason, and... I think the other one is named Kyle," I listed them. "But Gabby... please... just talk to them? Ask them not to bully Stephie anymore? Tell them it's bad manners?"
I looked at him pleadingly. Gabriel lowered my hand. He looked back at the road. His expression was unreadable.
"I will handle it," he said simply.
He started the car. Vroom.
We drove in silence for a few blocks. The radio was off. No Aerosmith today. Just the sound of the engine and my occasional sniffle.
"Gabby..." I broke the silence.
"Hm?"
"I... I have to tell you something."
Tears started to well up in my eyes again. This was the hardest part. My parents... my promise... my pride.
"I..." I hiccuped. Hic! "I lost my scholarship."
Gabriel glanced at me, but he didn't look angry. "Okay."
"And..." I choked out a sob. "I lost my Latin Honors! I won't be Summa Cum Laude! Or Magna! Or even just a regular Laude!" I covered my face with my non-bruised hand.
"I promised Mommy and Daddy!" I wailed. "They were so proud! And now I am a disgrace! I got a Category 2 Offense! I am basically a criminal!"
I waited for him to be disappointed. Gabriel loves smart people! He hires geniuses like Sean, Marcus, and Luca! He probably hates thugs who lose their scholarships!
But... he didn't scold me.
"Aleesha," he said.
I peeked through my fingers.
He was... smirking?
Yes! The corner of his lip was quirked up! He looked... impressed?
"You wielded a chair?" he asked.
I blinked. "Huh?"
"The report I received," he said (wait, how did he get a report already?!), "stated that you utilized a metal folding chair as a projectile weapon. And a keyboard as a blunt instrument."
He looked at me with a strange gleam in his obsidian eyes.
"Was it effective?"
I dropped my hands. "What?"
"Did it make contact?" he clarified. "Did the chair hit the target?"
"Well... yes!" I sniffled, defending my combat skills. "It hit Kevin's shin! And the keyboard hit the desk and made a loud CRASH! It was chaos!"
Gabriel chuckled. A low, dark sound.
"Excellent."
"Hey!" I pouted, wiping my tears. "Don't bully me! Don't make fun of my breakdown! I am a fallen scholar!"
"I am not making fun of you," Gabriel said, his voice turning serious.
He reached over the console and took my bruised hand again. He kissed the knuckles one more time, keeping my hand in his as he drove with one hand (so cool!).
"Summa Cum Laude is just a title," he said firmly. "It is words on a piece of paper. It does not define your worth."
"But it's shiny!" I argued weakly.
"Loyalty," Gabriel countered, "is rare. To defend a friend... to stand up against a mob... to wield a weapon when you are outnumbered and afraid..."
He squeezed my hand gently.
"That is valuable, Aleesha. Far more valuable than a GPA. You fought for your territory. You fought for your people."
He looked at me with intense pride.
"You are my Little Warrior."
My heart did a somersault.
Little Warrior.
It sounded so much better than Violent Thug.
"Really?" I whispered. "You're not mad I lost the free money?"
"I have enough money to buy the university and turn it into a parking lot," Gabriel said dismissively. "Do not worry about the tuition."
I giggled through my tears. "Okay. No parking lots. But... thank you, Gabby."
I squeezed his hand back. Maybe being a warrior isn't so bad. Even if my hand hurts.
★
When we got home, Gabriel went into full caretaker mode.
He led me to the bedroom. He sat me down on the edge of the bed.
"Stay," he ordered.
He went to the bathroom and came back with a first aid kit and my skincare bag.
"Give me your hand."
I extended my purple paw.
He cleaned it with something cool. He applied a soothing gel that smelled like mint. He wrapped it lightly in a bandage so I wouldn't accidentally bump it.
"There," he murmured.
Then, he stood behind me. He picked up my hairbrush.
He started combing my hair.
Stroke. Stroke.
It felt so nice. I closed my eyes, leaning back against his legs. He was so gentle, detangling the knots from my "chair-throwing rampage" hair.
"You need to wash your face," he noted, looking at my tear-stained cheeks.
"I can't!" I lifted my bandaged hand. "I am disabled!"
Gabriel sighed. He sat down in front of me.
He took out the cotton pads and the toner (the one I bought him!).
"Close your eyes."
He cleaned my face. He put on the moisturizer. He even patted it in gently, just like I taught him! Tap tap tap.
"You are a very good nurse, Gabby," I mumbled, enjoying the pampering.
"I am a logistician," he corrected. "I am maintaining the asset."
"Asset shmasset," I stuck my tongue out. "You just like touching my face."
He didn't deny it. He just pinched my cheek lightly.
"Do you require a shower?" he asked, standing up. "I can... assist you. Since you are 'disabled'."
My eyes snapped open.
Shower?
With Gabriel?
Naked?
I looked down at my tummy.
I had consumed a Large Strawberry Frappe. With extra whip. And a croissant.
I felt... bloated. Like a pufferfish! My tummy was not flat! It was a happy, squishy frappe-baby!
And Gabriel has abs! He looks like a Greek statue!
If he sees me naked right now, he will see the bloat! He will see the frappe belly! He will bully me!
NOPE!
I shook my head vigorously. "No! No no no! I am good! I will shower alone! I have... uh... a technique! One-handed technique! Ninja skills!"
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? You might slip."
"I have grip socks!" I lied. "I am fine! Stay here! Don't peek!"
I grabbed my pajamas and scurried into the bathroom, locking the door. Click.
Phew. Crisis averted. The frappe belly remains a secret.
★
I came out of the bathroom smelling like vanilla soap and wearing my favorite oversized t-shirt. My hand was wrapped in a plastic bag (my innovation!) to keep the bandage dry, which I now removed.
Gabriel was already in bed. He was wearing his reading glasses (so hot!) and looking at his tablet.
I climbed in.
I didn't stay on my side. I rolled over.
I rested my head on his chest.
Gabriel put down the tablet. He took off his glasses.
His arm wrapped around me, pulling me closer. His hand stroked my hair.
The room was quiet. Safe.
But my mind was still loud.
I thought about Stephie. Alone in her room. I thought about the video. The 30,000 views. I thought about the promise.
"Gabby?" I whispered against his shirt.
"Hm?"
"Do you think... do you think Stephie will be okay?"
Gabriel's chest rose and fell.
"She is resilient," he said. "Tomorrow is a new day. Everything will be fine."
I bit my lip.
"You said that before," I reminded him softly. "When we were eating pizza. You said Sean deleted it. You said it was gone. You promised it was handled."
I felt Gabriel stiffen slightly.
"But we failed," I whispered, a fresh tear leaking out. "Sean failed. You failed. And I failed her."
It hurt to say it. Gabriel is perfect. He never fails. But this time... the bad guys won.
Gabriel didn't speak for a long moment.
His hand stopped stroking my hair. His heart beat steadily under my ear. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
The silence stretched.
Then, he spoke.
His voice was different. It wasn't the soft, comforting husband voice. It was the voice of the man who wielded a red pen like a sword. The voice of the King.
"I underestimated the enemy," he admitted calmly. "It was an error in calculation."
He tightened his arm around me. It felt like a vow.
"But Aleesha," he murmured, his lips brushing the top of my head. "I do not make the same error twice."
He took a deep breath.
"This time," he promised, dark and absolute. "I will not fail. And those who laughed... will weep."
I shivered.
It sounded scary.
But as I closed my eyes, listening to his heartbeat, "scary" felt exactly like what we needed.
"Okay," I whispered. "Go get 'em, tiger."