Chapter 16
Gabriel
I walk into the Millionaires and Gentlemen’s Club, which isn’t particularly crowded tonight. No surprise—it’s the middle of the week.
Cornelius Grey is chatting with a group of businessmen while I scan the room for a young woman who might take my mind off this nagging thought for a while.
Sweet. Blonde. She won’t do.
Also sweet, long dark-brown hair.
She’s the right type, but her blonde curls don’t match Kimberley’s. Hasn’t Cornelius hired a single redhead?
“I know that look,” he says, coming over with a glass of whiskey. I take it and sip.
“Restless. Searching. Nobody fits your type?”
“Honestly, no,” I reply.
“What are you looking for?” Cornelius smirks and adds, “This stays between us, of course. No matter how crazy. You’re one of my most valued and closest confidants here.” He probably says that to everyone.
“Natural red curls. Freckles.” Maybe that will distract me.
“Ah. The Irish type.”
“Scottish. But I’m not going to be too picky.”
“I know someone. From Ireland. Sweet. A little sassy. Wild. Want me to call her?” he asks.
I hesitate. It feels wrong, but…
“Can she come here?”
“I’ll arrange it.” Cornelius takes another sip, pulls out his phone, and turns away to have a quiet conversation while I keep scanning the room.
Beautiful women are everywhere, each one more stunning than the last, and yet I can only think of one.
“Room 701. In thirty.” Cornelius looks pleased. “Bring me a small bottle of saffron sometime. That’s red, too.”
“Only the best.” I nod, grateful, and leave the lounge to head to the room.
The key is waiting for me in the lobby. Everything runs smoothly, as one would expect from Cornelius Grey.
I step into the large room with a double bed and bathroom. A cozy hotel room that leaves nothing to be desired: modern, clean, discreet. A well-stocked minibar with all kinds of exquisite delicacies: chocolates, wine, champagne, whiskey.
Condoms and toys ready.
I stand at the floor-to-ceiling window. The heavy curtains had hidden London’s light show; now thousands of colorful lights dance in the night to the heartbeat of the city—a rhythm I’d gladly follow if not for the longing for a woman who’s been turning my head for weeks.
Maybe her stand-in will give me what I need tonight to create some distance. Distance from the thought of following my heart while my mind tries to warn me.
There’s a knock at the door.
I hesitate, set my glass aside, and open it to the young woman standing there in a tight black dress. Sweet freckles scatter not only across her face but also down the inviting line of her décolletage. Natural red curls spill loosely over her shoulders as she looks me over with dark eyes.
“Cornelius didn’t exaggerate,” she purrs, smiling broadly with full lips. Yes, she resembles Kim a little, but they’re fundamentally different. Kim is angelic and delicate. This woman is feline—wild, impulsive, greedy, clearly more dominant.
“My name’s Caroline. And you’re Gabriel? That’s a really hot, unusual name.”
She moves with elegant moves, knowing exactly how to use her charms. A sway of the hips here, a glance over her shoulder there, a flutter of lashes that would normally captivate me—if my heart weren’t with someone else.
But maybe I’ll forget Kim if I spend the night with her.
Maybe she’ll stop haunting my mind.
Maybe my heart will finally rest.
It's worth a try.
I close the door and watch Caroline set her black handbag aside and glance around curiously. Her long, slender legs are inviting; she seems to float in her heels. Everything about her is meant to delight the male eye—yet… I’m not interested. That has to change.
“I want to be honest,” I begin.
“Let me guess: you’re in love with a woman who looks like me?
” I don’t need to say much to confirm it.
“I thought so. Someone specifically asking for a woman like me—that doesn’t happen often.
Lucky for you I was in town. I’m not in London very often.
Only a few days here and there. Tomorrow I fly back to Dublin. But I come over now and then.”
She comes closer, smiling knowingly, seductively. I stand still, feeling my whole body resist.
“You’re so tense, Gabriel. Come, sit down.” Her hands trail across my chest. For a moment, I remember Kim touching me like that. I close my eyes before looking back at her.
“That bad?” She gently takes hold of my tie and pulls me toward the bed. I follow as she steps backward, keeping her eyes on mine.
“I’m here for you, Gabriel. But we don’t have to do anything you’ll regret later. We can talk. Or just sit. I can listen. Kiss you. Turn off the lights. I can play a role for you. You can give me another name. Whatever you want. However you want. Tonight, I’m all yours.”
At the edge of the bed, I cup her cheeks in my hands.
My thumbs brush over her skin. How I’ve longed to do that with Kim.
Not just hold her—but touch her face. Kiss her.
Throw her onto the bed. Push up her dress.
Make her come. Again, and again. Through the dark night.
Minute by minute. Hour after hour. Until dawn, when the light kisses London awake and rouses it from its deep sleep.
How I would have loved to do it—with her.
Not with this woman, lying next to me now, while I haven’t closed my eyes at all. I never would have thought sex could feel so empty.
This isn’t what I want.
No—this isn’t what I need anymore.
And I know what that means: I have a problem.
One that can’t be easily solved with money.
Or with another woman.
Or with the pathetic attempt to trick my heart.