46. Chapter 46
Chapter forty-six
Gabe
G abe
I don’t know what this woman is doing to me, but I don’t even recognize the me of recent days. Hell, I don’t even know that I want to recognize the me of the recent past. These are the thoughts I have during the chopper ride back to the city, with my hand on her leg or holding her hand every second of the ride. When have I ever needed to touch a woman just to touch her?
By the time we land in the city, I’m ready to have her to myself and naked, but I don’t want a time limit on those desires. Thus why I’m quick to load us into a hired car and head to her apartment.
Once we’re there, Abbie turns to me. “I’ll go up alone.”
“Not happening.”
“Dexter—”
I lean forward and talk to the driver, palming him money and settling that problem quickly. I ease back into my seat. “Dexter now has a babysitter.”
“Gabe—”
“I’ll come around to get you.” I get out of the vehicle and by the time I’m at the opposite side of the SUV, Abbie is outside and shutting her door. “Gabe,” she starts again.
I kiss her. “Abbie,” I say softly, inhaling her sweet floral scent. “Let’s go upstairs so I can fuck you here and then later all over again.”
“I’m not fucking you in my pathetic apartment.”
Pathetic apartment. A telling statement that says she hates where she’s landed in life, and a problem I intend to fix. “You sure about that?”
“Very.”
“Show me how very sure you are.”
She laughs. “You’re crazy, Gabe Maxwell.”
“That’s what I hear.” I lace the fingers of one of my hands with hers. “Let’s go upstairs.” I don’t give her time to object. I start walking. And so, we leave Dexter with the driver, who is once again a victim of Dexter’s charm, though I’m certain one of these drivers will end up dead at some point, but hey. I have a pathetic father who kills to get what he wants. He’ll defend me. The fact that he’s working against me with Abbie drives home my growing hate for that bastard.
“What are your plans tomorrow?” I ask as we step into the elevator of her building, waiting until she punches her floor to pull her close. “Can you come to our office and see what a day in the life of the Maxwell operation is like?”
“Gabe,” she says softly. “I can’t work for you. We’re…”
I arch a brow. “We’re what?”
“I don’t know what this is.”
“What it is, is good. It won’t affect your job, either. I’m not an asshole and the firm is large. You literally could work there and never see me.”
“That would still be awkward.”
“But it won’t be for many reasons.”
“Gabe—”
I settle my mouth on hers, licking past her lips, a deep slide of tongue against tongue that ends with the ding of the elevator and me saying, “Just come to the office with me tomorrow. Consult with us while you find another job. I guarantee you, I can drive your marketability.” I kiss her hand. “You’re coming with me.” I lead her out of the elevator.
“You’re being a bully,” she accuses.
I glance over at her and stop at her door. “I told you. Only about what I want. And what I want is you.” I motion to her keys as she pulls them out of her pocket.
“I want you, too, which is a good reason not to work together.”
“Agree to disagree,” I say. “For now.” I reach for her keys.
She palms her keys. “Don’t say anything about my apartment.”
“I’ve seen it, Abbie. I’ve been here before.”
“I know you’ve seen it but that was fast and—I know it’s humble, but it’s all mine.”
His eyes darken, soften. “Understood. Not one word.” I hold up my fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“Were you a boy scout?”
“Yes, actually. It looked good on college resumes, per my father.”
She hands me the keys. “Aren’t you a boy when you’re in the boy scouts? A young boy?”
“Yes. My father started plotting our college acceptances when we were in diapers.” I give the lock my attention and open the door, shoving it open. “I’m also certain that he planned our funerals before we were born.”
She blinks at me. “I don’t know what to say to that comment.”
“Say you’ll fuck me when we get inside.”
“I’ll fuck you in your apartment.” With that, she enters her own.
I follow her inside to find a modest loft-style apartment, with a cream-colored couch and two chairs sitting in front of a brick wall. Abbie turns and presses her hands to my chest. “Don’t judge. This isn’t your fancy apartment, but it’s not a dump either.”
“I’m not judging. Not before. Not now. You’re the one judging you and it. Stop doing that.”
“I don’t want you to think that I need your money, Gabe. I don’t. I didn’t go after his for a reason. Money isn’t what matters to me.”
“It matters to me,” I say. “I work hard for it and so did you by living in hell with him. You deserved to walk away with something.”
“I did. My freedom. I needed away from him.”
But she doesn’t have her freedom. He’s still coming at her. “You’ll have both soon, freedom and money.”
“What does that mean, Gabe?”
“It means you’ll launch your career again and make your own money.” I caress her cheek. “Pack.”
She studies me for several long beats and then backs up. “I’ll hurry.” She rushes toward a set of black steel stairs and turns to face me at the bottom, seeming to want to say something and then she dashes up the steps.
Her obvious message is wait, but I don’t wait. I stand there, staring up at the railing, waiting for her, all right. As expected, she peeks her head over and then gives me a beautiful smile that has my cock twitching.
That’s it.
I’m not waiting.
I’m across the small room, in pursuit almost immediately. Wanting to know what she didn’t say. Wanting to make sure she packs enough to stay with me a while. I walk up the winding steel steps and enter what is her bedroom with no door. I find her with her back to me, seeming to stare down at the bed. I’d take this as a seductive game, but there is something about her energy, something that says this is not what it seems.
I scan the room, taking in the full-sized bed with navy blue comforter, and Ansel Adams black and white photographs on several walls. There’s a doorway to a bathroom, I assume. Another to a closet. There isn’t much else, not even a dresser.
Abbie still hasn’t moved and I approach her, laying my hands on her arms. She twists around to face me. “Gabe,” she whispers.
I look down to find her holding a velvet ring box. I frown. “What is that? What’s wrong?”
She opens it and shows me a diamond solitaire that I know from my mother’s similar ring must be a cool half a million dollars. “What are you showing me?”
“My ring. This was my wedding ring.”
Unease slides through me. “Are you telling me you didn’t leave with nothing?”
“I’m telling you that I gave this back to him. It was on my bed. He was here and the message is clear, don’t you think?”
My blood runs cold. He’s telling her and me that’s she’s his and he’s not going to let her go. He’s dangerous. My jaw sets hard. And he doesn’t know how dangerous I can be.