Chapter 12
Gaby was elbow-deep in case files when a brisk knock cut through her concentration.
A courier stood in her doorway with three stacked boxes and two garment bags, all stamped with the elegant black-foil crest of Maison Revaud.
Her jaw dropped. She couldn’t afford to breathe the air in that boutique, one of the most exclusive in Miami.
“There must be a mistake.”
“Are you Gabriella Flores?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Then there’s no mistake.”
He set the items inside and disappeared down the hall before she could ask a single question.
Gaby approached the pile cautiously, half-expecting it to disappear or worse, strike. She tugged the ribbon loose and lifted the lid. Inside, layers of cream silk paper edged in black concealed whatever waited beneath.
She peeled back the layers then sucked in a breath. Almost afraid to touch it, she lifted the crimson silk dress. It spilled over her hands—cool, fluid, indecently gorgeous. Not just a dress but a statement.
“That is going to look incredible on you.”
When she looked up, Cari leaned in the doorway, sunglasses perched in her hair. She stepped inside and ran her fingers over the fabric.
“Rhys has excellent taste,” she said, admiration in her tone. “Is this for the Costa Rica sting?”
Gaby blinked, unable to decide which piece of startling information to address first. That Rhys selected her clothes or that Cari had just casually called the álvarez op a sting.
“You know about the mission?”
“I know a little. Dev only tells me what I absolutely have to know, but I needed details to orchestrate the auction. And I assumed you weren’t going to let the man who took the bait waltz out without a follow-up.”
Gaby winced. “You assumed better than me. I made a bit of a scene when I thought we were letting him slip through our fingers.”
Cari’s expression softened. “With what you have at stake, I think you were justified.” Then, brightening, “Can we tear into these packages? I’m dying to see the rest.”
They undid ribbons and tossed the packing aside.
Inside were light, flowing pieces clearly chosen for heat and movement: a pale gold wrap dress with a daring slit, a sea-green sundress that would glide over her curves without clinging, and a soft ivory jumpsuit that looked both effortless and expensive.
Shoes followed: strappy leather sandals, sleek neutral heels, and a pair of flats perfect for travel.
Nestled among them on velvet-lined trays were slender gold chains, a cuff set with a single diamond, small earrings that caught light without demanding attention.
Nothing gaudy. Nothing unintentional. Every item spoke of wealth, taste, and status that álvarez would notice. It was a little overwhelming, especially since everything was in her size. No one had asked, and she hadn’t thought to offer.
“How do you know Rhys picked these out?” she asked, unable to stop herself.
“I have several clues. A, he’s a dom. B, he’s got European class. And exhibit C.” She held up a crimson lace thong to match the gown. “Dev says when he runs an op, Rhys doesn’t skimp on the details. Apparently, that includes underwear,” she added dryly.
A sudden jolt ran through Gaby. She wasn’t ready for how intimate this felt, or how much it echoed the way he’d touched her last night, or how her body reacted.
No. She couldn’t do this. Not now.
“I need air,” she whispered, whirling and practically bolting for the door.
“Wait. I was teasing,” Cari called, all humor fading.
Gaby whirled back, covering her warm cheeks with trembling hands. The room felt too small, the air too warm, and every breath tasted like last night’s unfinished tension. “It’s not you. It’s… everything.”
Cari studied her, clearly debating her next move. Then she pulled out her phone. As she typed a quick message with notable speed, she announced, “Dev can survive lunch without me.”
“Oh, please. Don’t cancel for me.”
She dropped her phone back into her bag and looked at her, sympathy and understanding in her gaze. “Honey, you had a pile of couture delivered to your desk. Hand-picked by a man who clearly wants you.”
“He doesn’t,” Gaby said automatically, hating how thin her voice sounded.
“Of course he does,” Cari countered, sounding convinced. “Why he’s denying himself, and you, is the question. Everyone is talking about it.”
“Everyone? Dear God,” she groaned, closing her eyes.
Cari shook her head and clucked her tongue. “This is worse than I thought. And why I canceled the husband for an urgent girls-only lunch.” She looped her arm through Gaby’s. “Let’s get you out of here.”
They headed toward the exit together. As they reached the front lobby, the elevator opened, and Emily and Alec stepped out.
After taking them both in, Emily’s smile vanished. “What’s wrong? You two look like you’re escaping.”
“Nothing so dramatic,” Cari assured her. “We’re just heading out for lunch. Sometimes the testosterone levels in this suite can get to a girl."
She nodded in full understanding. “I’m starved. I’ll go with you.”
“Sweetheart,” Alec drawled. “We just came from a cake tasting.”
“Bad cake doesn’t count as lunch,” Em quipped.
“Unimpressed with this caterer, too?” Cari asked sympathetically.
Emily sighed. “Looks like I might have to make my own wedding cake and cater my own reception.”
“That’s not happening,” Alec stated firmly. “It’s our day, and I want your focus on me and making memories, not worrying if we’re going to run out of champagne and hors d’oeuvres.”
“I agree. It should be a celebration of you two, not work,” newly married Cari proclaimed. “Since you’re coming with us, we can problem-solve over quesadillas and margaritas.”
“I have to work this afternoon,” Gaby interjected.
“So do I, but I’m going anyway.” Emily turned to Alec, rose on tiptoe, and kissed him quickly but with warmth and easy affection. Alec smiled, completely besotted, thumb tenderly brushing her jaw.
Gaby’s heart wrenched at the love they shared unabashedly—a reminder of everything she wasn’t allowed with Rhys.
“Have fun,” Alec said. Then he glanced at the trio and frowned. “Just not too much. Maybe I should tag along to keep you out of trouble.”
“No need. I’ve still got my shadow,” Cari said, glancing at her watch. “Rafe is on today. He went to gas up the Durango while I stayed safe here. He should be back any minute now.” Her phone pinged. She glanced at the screen. “Speak of the devil. He’s waiting for me out front.”
Emily beamed up at her fiancé. “See. No worries. Rafe won’t let us burn the city down.”
“Why doesn’t that reassure me?” Alec muttered, stepping aside as the women swept past.
As they filed into the elevator together, Gaby felt relieved she wasn’t alone.
She’d told herself she needed air, but what she really needed was something to take her mind off last night, off Rhys choosing silk and lace that would hug her body, and off the mixed messages he was sending that wrecked her equilibrium.
And she couldn’t think of a better distraction than Cari’s energy and Emily’s dry humor.
They were both with dominant men, much like Rhys.
If they couldn’t distract her, maybe they could at least offer some advice on how to survive.
***
At a quiet, off-the-main-drag Mexican restaurant a few blocks from the office, they claimed a shady table in the high-walled courtyard tucked beneath a riot of bougainvillea. Instead of margaritas, they ordered iced tea and barely glanced at the menus.
Rafe lingered at a table near the entrance, pretending to scroll through his phone while scanning reflections in the glass.
Gaby hesitated to ask, but her curiosity won. “With Enzo out of the picture, why do you still have a shadow everywhere you go?”
Cari gave a small, tight smile. “You can take the family out of the girl, but not the girl out of the family. It never quite lets go.”
She didn’t elaborate about what family; she didn’t have to.
“You’re still in danger?”
“Just because Vinny’s doing time in Otisville and Enzo is dead doesn’t mean they stop,” Cari said with resignation.
“They’re in disarray without a leader, but one could emerge.
Or they could fade into the ether. Dev’s words, not mine.
Either way, he’s not prepared to let his guard down. Now, if ever.”
Gaby exhaled slowly. “I guess that makes sense.”
“It’s annoying,” Cari corrected lightly. “But he’s the expert, and almost always right.”
“Also annoying, I’m guessing,” Emily teased.
Cari smiled, less tight this time. Then she leaned forward. “All right, Gaby. It’s your turn to spill. Tell me how you really are. Rhys has had you in training every night this week. That can’t be easy.”
“I wouldn’t call anything with Rhys easy,” she muttered.
Emily stirred her drink thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed. It’s so unlike him.”
Curiosity slipped past her guard. “How do you mean?”
Emily rested her chin in her hand. “When Rhys guarded me, he was always relaxed. Dry humor. Unshakable calm. But, with you? He’s wound tight, like he’s bracing for impact.”
“You don’t know the half of it. One minute he’s smoldering hot, the next, he’s freezing me out.”
“Something happened in his past,” Emily speculated. “I’d bet money on it. I asked Alec if Rhys has ever been married or had a serious relationship, girlfriend, or long-term sub. He said not that he knew of, but that it wasn’t our business.”
“Leland said the same thing,” Gaby murmured.
“I think you’re on to something, Em,” Cari said, nodding. “He’s never been serious about anyone at the club, until…”
“I broke him further,” Gaby said, shoulders slumping.
“No. He was cautious long before you came along,” Cari assured her. “He’s holding back for a reason. We just need to find out what that reason is.”
Gaby nearly groaned. “I can’t. Not now. I’m trying to focus on the mission. It’s personal enough. And now I have to play the role of”—she lowered her voice to finish—“Rhys’s sex slave.”
Cari and Emily exchanged a silent look. Then identical slow grins.
“What? Why are you smiling?” she demanded.
Emily raised a perfect brow. “You might accomplish more than one mission in Costa Rica.”
Cari nodded sagely. “Forced proximity does interesting things to people.”
“Especially,” Emily added, the sly smile reemerging, “when there’s chemistry simmering just under the surface.”
“Oh no,” Gaby muttered, dropping her face into her hands.
Cari laughed. “Oh, yes.”
Emily leaned in, eyes sparkling. “The real question is how long can Rhys keep denying it’s there.”
Her heart thumped painfully. “This isn’t helping.”
It absolutely wasn’t.
Nothing did.
And that was the problem.