35. Gabe
35
GABE
Traffic is terrible this evening, and I’m glad I insisted we utilize my driver. The dark tint on the windows blocks out the fading light and the chaos of the city.
Earlier, I’d gotten the courage to ask Kingston to go shopping with me. Given his family connections, he set balls in motion, and now the back of the SUV is filled with fresh new styles that I’m actually excited to wear. Things that feel like me, not just the outfits my normal stylist pulls.
Geek chic , King calls it.
Which is better than Impersonator CEO.
The car rocks over a manhole cover, jostling us. Beside me, King checks his phone for what must be the dozenth time since we left my apartment.
“Everything okay?”
With the divider up and privacy ensured, he nods as he places his phone on the seat between us. “Yeah. Just playing phone tag with Katherine.”
“Ahh.”
“I thought we were past this.” He props his elbow against the door and rests his chin against his fist.
“This?”
“Being on different continents.” Frustration laces his words, and I get it.
He came back to New York for her, thinking that without the distance, some of his problems would be solved. And as annoying as phone tag is, it’s so much worse with someone on a completely different schedule. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt.
“I’ll just be glad when she’s back.” He runs his hands down his thighs.
What’s so urgent? And why does it make him nervous? I don’t know if we’re at a place where I can ask those things. Or rather, could I ask without sabotaging the easygoing camaraderie of the day? The trust we’ve built so far?
We make it home before I starve.
“What do you want for dinner?” he asks as we crowd onto the elevator, our bags at our feet.
He couldn’t resist a little shopping of his own.
“Thai? Pizza? Wings. Let’s do wings.” It’s been way too long since I’ve gotten to kick back, watch a game, and chow down on a saucy little chicken leg.
“Wings it is.”
He’s on his phone as the elevator lifts skyward. I’ve noticed the habit several times now. But again, timing is important. I don’t want to bring up something that will?—
The car jerks to a stop with a grind of metal, tossing me forward on my toes. So many things happen at once.
I slap an arm across King’s chest, steadying him as I brace a hand against the doors. The phone falls from his hand and skitters across the polished tile, stopping between two shopping bags.
The lights flicker and wink out, and a second later, a single bulb casts a blue glow over us.
Alarm floods my veins.
That’s not normal. We’ve never had any hiccups with the elevators in this building. First time for everything, I guess. I take a deep breath and start to ask King if he’s okay, but that’s silly. He’s obviously not okay even when the elevator isn’t freaking the fuck out.
“Well, that was exhilarating,” I murmur, trying to keep things light.
“Uh-huh.”
The man doesn’t sound the least bit convinced.
I look to see what floor we’re at and if there are indicator lights on the panel. I’ve never paid much attention to it before. Funny how you can use something every day and miss the details.
“Looks like we’re between floors,” I say, jabbing the door open button as a test, but nothing happens.
Well, fuck.
I hit the call button. It rings. Once. Twice. Three times. I hit the button again, hoping it disconnects, because we don’t need that sound pinging around the tin can like a pinball.
Beside me, King is pale as a piece of paper. He hasn’t moved. Didn’t pick up his phone. I’m actually not sure he’s breathing.
I turn and step in front of him. “Hey. They’ll get to us. The backup generator kicked on, so I bet if we’re having issues, another elevator is too. And maybe they hit the button faster than I did.”
No smile, no expression at all. He’s still as stone.
“King.”
His gaze finds mine so slowly I swear I’ve gone gray by the time those sea foam green eyes lock on me. The fear there is something I’ve never seen before. Wild, irrational, and carefully banked as if he doesn’t want me to know.
I might not be scared of elevators, but I’ve felt fear like that. Like I wouldn’t make it out alive. It’s a miracle I don’t freak out over small spaces, given the way my brothers liked to lock me in my closet.
They honestly thought imprisonment would make me less of a bookworm and more of a farm boy.
Little did they know, I eventually hid a book and a flashlight in my closet and would happily sit in there to read while they ranted.
I doubt King was locked in a closet as a kid. His family seems nicer and more understanding. Not to mention, someone would probably have heard him screaming.
So this is something else.
What did Alex do for Katherine when she had her panic attack? I have no idea what he told her before he put her in the back seat of the car, but physical contact seemed to have comforted her.
“It’s okay. We’re going to be fine.”
Nothing.
“Would it help if I told you about all the safety features built into elevators these days?”
There’s a slight shake of his head.
Which is probably good because software is really more my speed.
I step closer, right into his space. Toe to toe, he has to tip his chin up ever so slightly. His eyes widen the tiniest bit as if he’s surprised by my sudden nearness.
The space is oddly quiet and somehow loud at the same time. Our breathing is amplified. And I swear I can hear my heartbeat thrumming through my veins.
I reach for his hand, his arm is dead weight, and press his palm against my chest. “Breathe with me.”
I take a deep breath, my chest expanding beneath his fingertips. His eyelids shutter, and he follows my lead. In and out. One slow, steady breath after another.
“That’s it.”
We stand, still and silent, little sounds from the building crowding in. Breathing in and out, together. Slowly, it must be a full minute, if not two, before his shoulders begin to relax and are no longer tucked up around his ears like a turtle. His hand softens beneath mine, even pressing tighter to my chest, as if he relishes and needs the connection.
It’s hard to wrap my brain around. From the moment Kingston strode across Pierce Montgomery’s back patio, locking lips with Katherine, I’ve seen his innate confidence. He carries himself like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
But I guess we all have our secrets and hangups.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, his voice low, softer than I’ve ever heard before.
And wrecked. Absolutely wrecked.
I’m reminded of the boy I was when I left home. Of who I was when I first met Alex. I would never want anyone to feel like that. Like a shell of a person.
“You’ve got this. Let me try the call button again.”
This time, someone answers. The deep voice fills the car, telling us to sit tight.
I start to ask for details, but the connection is severed. The single overhead light goes out.
King’s sharp inhale is loud, echoing off the metal panels.
“Talk to me,” I say into the dark. It’s pitch black now. I use my free hand to turn on the flashlight on my phone.
“Can’t,” he stammers.
“I don’t believe that. You climb light poles with your bare hands and jump across alleyways like you’re Spider-Man.”
He gives a little huff.
“Do you remember the first time you met Katherine?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Me too. She had me at a total disadvantage.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his tension rising again. His shoulders lifting, muscles tensing.
I type a quick message to the head of my security detail and also my housekeeper. Someone must know what’s going on.
Letting going of King’s hand, I cup his shoulder, massaging the stiffness away. He trembles like a frightened bunny, and I hate that he’s so scared. I’ve never given the elevator a second thought, but seeing this and feeling his anxiety, I realize just how much he loves Katherine.
No one who has this much trepidation over elevators would willingly put themselves through this multiple times a day for anyone they didn’t absolutely adore.
I send another text, this time to my assistant, then return my attention to the panicked man shaking beneath my palm.
“She has this wild ability to see the bigger picture,” I say. “Like a chessboard. All the pieces. All the possible moves. And then I open my mouth and she proves to me why I’m wrong. It’s fucking amazing. That first day in the Winter-Farmington boardroom, I thought she was a tiger. Forget the fucking Wolf of Wall Street. She was all of twenty-two and sharp as a samurai sword.”
“That’s Kat,” he agrees, voice rough.
I look around at the bags scattered on the floor. A small fortune in clothing and not a single bottle of water among them. I’m not used to feeling useless. Or conflicted, come to think of it.
“What can I do, King?” I whisper, starting to feel desperate.
How long has it been? Why is no one getting us out of here? And what happened to the backup generator?
I lick my lips and swallow back the frustration.
“Keep talking to me,” he whispers, voice rough.
Hah. That’s easy enough.
I manage a full two or three minutes of idle chit-chat before my phone buzzes in my hand. My security team is downstairs prying answers out of management and maintenance.
Should I tell King the fire department is here? That might freak him out more.
“What is it?” he asks.
Okay, time to fib. “You know how sometimes you get a grand idea and you’re so sure it’s going to work out but then someone tells you all the things that are wrong with it? I mean, that’s what I pay my legal team to do, but...” I add a little eye roll for good measure.
His fingertips flex against my chest.
I take that as a good sign, coasting my fingers along the side of his neck and rubbing soothing circles with my thumb.
“They’re finding your plot holes,” he murmurs, more lively than he has been since the elevator car halted.
“Hmm.” I like that. My plot holes. I’ll try to remember that the next time one of my team shoots down an idea.
He frowns. “What?—”
Falling silent, he tips his head, listening.
I hear it, too.
Water dripping.
He stumbles a step, knees giving out, and I grab him with both hands, phone tumbling between us.
It sounds like rain in the elevator corridor. What the hell?
“This doesn’t make sense.” He shakes his head, his panic clearly increasing.
I jab the call button again. “Let’s have a seat.”
He’s still shaking his head, losing himself to his panic. I’ve never watched anyone hyperventilate before, but with the way he’s gasping, I’m sure he’s on the verge.
No one answers the call. Hell, the light doesn’t even come on. But I’ve gotta keep my cool.
“Okay?” I say. “Before you fall down.”
I massage his shoulders, hoping my touch grounds him. He presses his other hand against my chest, not to push me away, more like clinging. Connecting.
He stares at my lips. I’m not sure if he’s still zoned out or not.
“We can call Katherine if you want. Or, you know, I met the chief of police once,” I offer, trying to think of all the high-ranking officials I’ve met over the last decade.
When I fall silent, we hear the water. No longer a drip, now a stream. Is the roof leaking? It wasn’t raining earlier.
“Fuck it,” he bites out.
Rocking forward, his lips slam against mine.