Chapter 18 #2
Then, without a word, he handed off the weapon and walked away.
Georgina let out a low breath. “What. Was that?”
“You think his parents missed that?” Naomi whispered.
Isabel’s tone was sharper. “You think Gage’s parents did?”
“They’re waiting to see what Gage does next,” Georgie murmured.
Bea’s blood was roaring in her ears. Everyone was watching now.
She looked toward the far end of the course. Gage was already moving. The crowd didn’t part. He made them. That kind of control didn’t wait for space. It took it.
His jaw was set, his walk surgical. Like the entire world had narrowed to this one task: reaching her.
When he did, the air cracked.
He reached for her hand. She gave it. No wavering. He leaned in, lips brushing just beneath her ear, a place only he knew, and her knees nearly gave. “Let’s go.”
It wasn’t for show. It wasn’t for them. It was for her. He was steadying the floor beneath her feet.
She went.
RAFAEL
Rafael didn’t stop walking until the crowd dissolved behind him. Until the sounds softened, blurred by distance.
He moved with purpose, not haste. Men like him didn’t run from what they started.
He’d seen her face yesterday. Walked into the cellar. Known immediately it was Catherine who’d made her look that way.
He still had no right to fix it. But he could remind her, and anyone watching, that he gave a damn.
A shadow broke off from the trees.
Laurent. Hands in his pockets, smeared in mud. “Well,” he drawled. “That was subtle.”
Rafael said nothing.
Laurent studied him. “Five bullseyes and a direct hit on the girl. Bien joué.”
Still, no response.
Laurent glanced back toward the field, where Gage had already collected Bea.
“You just made every person on that lawn realize Gage King has a problem.” He issued a smirk. “Or an ally.”
This time, Rafael answered. “Both.”
He hadn’t shot off to start a war. Just to make sure no one forgot who else had firepower.
And who he’d use it for.
The knock on her door came at 4:04 p.m.
About the time Bea had almost stopped analyzing the way Rafael had looked at her.
She opened the door, expecting olives. Or a polite reminder to dress appropriately for the black-tie dinner, in case she forgot.
Instead, it was Gage—unfortunately no longer in tactical gear, but still walking with the gait of a man who’d earned something on the battlefield. She had a feeling she knew exactly how he wanted to be rewarded.
“It’s not time to go down yet.”
“I know.” He stepped inside.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to come in.”
He didn’t respond. Just turned the lock.
Click.
That was not the sound of restraint. That was the sound of a woman panicking because she was about to be ruined against furniture that might be heritage listed. “You’re definitely not supposed to lock the door.”
“I’ll be gone in ten minutes,” he said. “Twelve, if you don’t cooperate.”
“What does that mean?” Her breath caught as he moved toward her.
“It means”—his voice lowered—“I’m here to collect my prize.”
“From me?”
“That’s right.”
“Can I give you an IOU?” she asked, lips twitching.
He followed the smile.
“We’ll get caught,” she whispered.
“No, we won’t.”
“There are rules.”
“I’m aware.”
She was against the edge of the antique writing desk now. Gage’s hand landed on the wood beside her hip, his body not quite touching hers, but every part of her felt him. Her legs had lost structural integrity. Her moral compass was on fire. “There are grandmothers, Gage.”
“They don’t have good hearing.”
“I have it on good authority these ones do.”
“So you’ll have to be very quiet.” His other hand found her waist. Drew her toward him.
She should say something rational. Circumspect. Something other than yes, please. “Isabel said no sheet-shaking.”
“We’re not near the bed.”
“Naomi said—”
“I don’t take orders from Naomi.”
Of course he didn’t. He looked like the intersection between victory and a war crime she’d commit twice.
Her resolve wore thin as his fingers brushed the bare skin at her hip. “Gage…”
“There are at least five things we can do in nine minutes,” he said, voice husky. “Do you really want to waste them negotiating?” His other hand slid to the small of her back. Her spine arched in response.
No, she didn’t. Not even a little bit.
Barely five minutes after Gage left, another knock sounded at her door.
Bea’s heart jumped.
Please not again. If he came back, they were going to get arrested. Or expelled from the venue. Or married.
She cracked the door open—
And was promptly shoved aside by Georgina, Naomi, and Isabel storming in like they had a warrant.
“Congratulations,” Georgina said. “You’re back in black.”
Bea blinked. “What?”
“Rafael,” Isabel started, “just executed a beautiful performance with a weapon. For you.”
Naomi flopped onto the bed, looking delighted. “Yesterday Catherine tried to tank your valuation. Today Rafael delivered a heat-seeking display of elite marksmanship. And then Gage escorted you off the field like a wolf with his mate in his teeth.”
Bea dropped into the chair, wincing. “They’re not going to duel at dawn or something, are they?”
“Of course not.” Georgina scoffed. “Rafael’s not suicidal. He’s not challenging Gage.”
“It wasn’t a love declaration. But it was helpful.” Isabel perched on the arm of the chair. “It was a reputation correction. Rafael made it clear you’re not invisible to other men. Gage made it clear you’re his. Put together? Your stock is surging.”
“This isn’t how this weekend was meant to go,” Bea muttered.
“You know what it costs to be unforgettable? Two billionaires.” Naomi cackled.
They called it a win. And she saw how it was. She’d been raised, not wrecked. But she didn’t feel elated. She felt exposed.
It was the kind of power you didn’t ask for, but couldn’t give back.
Bea exhaled. “Let’s pray something even better happens at the ball tonight.”
Georgina raised an eyebrow. “Better than being the center of a billionaire bidding war?”
“Like a meteor. Or a power outage,” Bea suggested. “Or maybe the vineyard just sinks into the sea.”
Isabel smirked. “Don’t tempt fate.”