Chapter Twenty-six
Mikkel
“Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.”
~ James Baldwin
I hadn’t heard much from Abigail since this morning, and it had been eating at me all day. The silence gnawed at the edges of my thoughts, a constant reminder of the unease I couldn’t shake. I kept wondering if I’d pressured her into coming or, worse, if the invitation had scared her off completely.
Even before that, the last few days had been restless. I couldn’t stop replaying what I’d told her at the beach, questioning whether it changed how she saw me or if it would put a strain on our relationship.
I’d texted her seven times already, but there was no response—a silence that wasn’t like her. I almost asked Azzaria if she’d heard from her, but she and Dillon were preoccupied in the backseat, lost in their own world. Interrupting them didn’t feel like an option.
The gala was in full swing when I arrived in an all-white Brioni tuxedo, paired with a black bow tie and polished leather shoes. I moved through the crowd, shaking hands with donors and posing for photos under the blinding flash of cameras. I’d forgotten how much I hated all of this—the forced smiles, the empty pleasantries. My thoughts were miles away, glancing at my phone for a reply from Abigail that never came.
Finally breaking free of the small talk and photo ops, I decided to leave. A Chipotle bowl, flowers, and chocolate cake might cheer her up, or at least give me a reason to check on her.
As my hand reached for the door, I spotted her, and every coherent thought vanished. The air thickened, and I couldn’t breathe. She was pure elegance, a force of nature , seizing every part of my mind. Nothing else mattered—she consumed me completely.
The deep green dress she wore hugged her like it was made just for her, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away. It was as if the color had been chosen to make her skin glow, and every step she took left me in awe. Her collarbones were exposed, and the neckline framed her so perfectly, offering just enough of a glimpse to make my heart race.
But it wasn’t just the dress. It was her , the way her green eyes sparkled with excitement, as if daring me to get lost in them. She was a goddess, and I was just a man lucky enough to breathe the same air as her. I felt like the world stopped spinning the moment our eyes met. And her hair, styled in an updo with loose strands softly framing her face was nothing short of perfect.
She looked like a poem the universe wrote to keep me alive.
Our eyes locked, and I immediately closed the distance between us, drawn to her like a magnet.
“Your beauty is unrivaled, baby,” I whispered, my hand gently cupping her cheek, careful not to ruin her flawless makeup.
“And you’re incredibly handsome,” she replied softly. “I thought I’d surprise you.”
“Thank you, Red,” I said, warmth spreading at her surprise. “I started to worry when you weren’t responding, but consider me surprised. ”
She smiled, eyes softening as she rested a hand over mine. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” she murmured, her voice a soothing melody. “I kept going back and forth, then Azzaria called with a plan, and… here I am.”
Her gaze flickered to my neck, and her smile deepened. “You really do wear it all the time.”
I shifted my collar, giving her a better view of the chain, then held up my wrist to show her the bracelet. “Of course I do, baby.”
Her fingers brushed over the fine silver, a quiet reverence in her touch, before her eyes lifted back to mine.
“I can’t get over how amazing you look. This dress, your face, your hair, your body…” I trailed off, unable to contain my admiration as my hand instinctively found her hips, drawing her closer.
“Don’t move your hands,” she whispered, her breath hot against my ear as she leaned into me. “I like them right there.”
Fuck.
I kissed her, our lips colliding in a fiery embrace. Hands roamed, bodies pressing together as she tangled her fingers in my hair, pulling me closer. The taste of her was intoxicating, each kiss deeper than the last. She melted into me, perfectly in sync, until footsteps broke the spell. Reluctantly, I pulled away, struggling to ground myself.
“Mikkel Suarez,” a familiar voice broke through the haze of desire, and I turned to see Alex standing there in his burgundy tuxedo, a sheepish grin on his face.
Frustration flickered, but I quickly composed myself, though the warmth of the kiss remained on my lips.
“Alexander Williams,” I replied, my voice slightly strained as I tore my gaze away from Abigail’s and turned to face him.
“You gonna introduce me, Suarez?” He asked, walking closer to us.
“Alex, this is Abigail. Abigail, this is Alex,” I introduced, trying to maintain a composed demeanor.
“Ah!” he remarked, his eyes lighting up. “The famous Abigail I hear so much about.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” she chimed in, her cheeks flushed with color as she attempted to regain her composure .
“You’ve got my brother in a tailspin,” Alex remarked with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’d say you added color to his rather bland world, but I’m not a poet, I’m a pilot.” He turned to me. “I came to check on you since I heard you were taking a breather about thirty minutes ago.”
“I’m good.”
“Oh, I can definitely see that,” Alex said with a knowing grin. “Let’s get inside. Dillon’s going to speak soon.”
With a resigned sigh, I reluctantly tore myself away from Abigail.
“You okay, mi amor ?” I asked, and she nodded, leaning in to kiss me again.
“I’ll see you inside,” she said, and I watched as she swayed her hips while walking ahead of us.
Alex’s unrestrained curiosity couldn’t be ignored. “You two f–”
“No,” I replied, trying to deflect his probing. “And never ask me that again.”
“You could’ve fooled me,” Alex joked, his tone lighthearted.
“Whatever.”
We made our way to the table, and I quickly scanned the room. Everyone from our group was present, except Dillon and Azzaria. Before I could ask where they were, Ronan leaned in, his voice low and casual. “They just stepped out to meet donors and Azzaria told us to keep an eye on her friend, Abigail.”
I leaned closer to Ronan. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
He raised an eyebrow, but followed me without question as I stepped away from the group.
“What’s up?” He crossed his arms, his usual cool and collected demeanor in place.
I hesitated for a beat, running a hand down my face. “What do you know about anxiety?”
He blinked, caught off guard. “I have some knowledge, but it’s not my area of expertise. I can get in touch with one of my psychiatrists if you need it.”
“Please do,” I said, my tone sharper than I intended. I softened it with a sigh. “Ask them if they can recommend any resources or books about dealing with anxiety and self-image.”
Ronan studied me for a moment, before sipping whatever was in his glass. “You really like her, huh?”
“I do,” I admitted without hesitation. “But I don’t know much about mental health, Ro. I don’t know how to help her, how to… be there the way she needs me to be. I’ve tried the blogs, but they don’t give me enough information.”
Ronan’s smirk faded, replaced by something softer, more genuine. “I’ll make sure you get what you need,” he promised. “She’s lucky to have you, you know.”
“You know I don’t believe in luck,” I said, shaking my head. “But, I’m the lucky one.”
Ronan gave me a knowing look and nodded. “I’ll reach out to them tonight.”
“Thank you.” I nodded, then turned my focus to Abigail, unable to think of anything else. I watched her pace, agitated but laughing. Her glass was nearly empty—third one already—as she sipped, her gaze darting around like she was fleeing something.
Before I could make my way over to her, Arnoldo slid up beside me with a drink, likely gin, in hand. “I see you’ve got your eyes on your redhead.”
“She’s far too beautiful for me to look away, Reyes.”
“I just got saved from the worst night of my life.”
I raised an eyebrow. “?Por qué?” 57
He smirked. “Maybe age is catching up to me, but when Dillon called while I was with two blondes, I was relieved for the excuse to leave.”
My brow furrowed. “ You turned down sleeping with someone?”
He nodded, his tone serious now. “Yeah.”
I stared at him, trying to wrap my head around it. “ You? Turned down two blondes?”
Arnoldo chuckled softly, the edge of disbelief still evident in my voice. “Yeah, man.”
I raised an eyebrow, the surprise still lingering in my voice. “Rough day, Reyes?”
He took another sip of his drink, his expression turning a bit more serious. “You have no idea. Is your sister here?”
I looked at him, confused. “No. Why?”
He sighed, a hint of something unreadable in his gaze. “Just curious. Thought I saw someone else here who might have been her.”
My brow furrowed slightly, but before I could respond, my attention was already pulled back to Abigail.
“Excuse me,” I muttered, turning away, trying to push aside the odd feeling creeping up on me.
She was standing by a booth, looking slightly distracted. I stepped closer, my voice low and concerned. “You okay, amor ?”
“Mikkel.” She glanced up, her face brightening with a smile. “I’m okay, just looking at the different displays.”
I stepped closer, my eyes narrowing slightly as I noticed how measured and unsteady her voice sounded. “Are you nervous?”
She hesitated, then answered with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Why would I be?”
I raised an eyebrow, glancing at her empty glass. “Because that’s your fourth glass of champagne in twenty-eight minutes.”
Her gaze flickered to me, surprise flashing across her face. “You’ve been watching me?”
She grabbed another glass from a passing waiter and took a gulp.
“It’s hard to look at anyone else when you’re here,” I murmured, my voice low but firm. “But don’t change the topic.”
Stepping closer, I found her hand, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She swallowed the rest of the champagne, and I took the glass, setting it on a nearby table. “I’ll be by your side all night. And trust me, no one in this room even comes close to your level.”
She held my gaze, and for a moment, I saw her walls crack just a little. “I needed to hear that.”
Before I could say another word, Lewis Baker—one of Dillon’s old partners—appeared, sliding into her space with that same cocky attitude I’d seen too many times before. His eyes dragged over her in a way that made my skin crawl.
“You look like you could use a drink, or maybe some company,” he said, clearly trying his luck.
My hand went straight to her hip, pulling her against me in one smooth motion. “Wrong woman, Baker,” I said, my voice cold as I stared him down.
“Oh, uh, didn’t know she was taken,” he stammered before retreating.
“How’s your wife?”
He shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting between me and Abigail, his earlier bravado gone. “She’s good,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Really good.”
I didn’t blink, my gaze still locked on him. “Glad to hear it.”
He cleared his throat, taking a small step backward.
“Anyway, I, uh… I should probably get back.” He chuckled nervously, looking for a way out. “Nice to see you, Mr. Suarez.” His voice cracked slightly as he nodded, turning on his heel.
I watched him walk away, his pace quickening like he couldn’t leave fast enough.
Once he was out of sight, I turned to Abigail, half expecting her to scold me for being so possessive. Instead, she looked up at me with a soft glint in her eyes.
“You know,” she said slowly, her voice dropping to a sultry tone, “your whole possessive thing is hot.”
I blinked, not expecting that response. “Yeah?”
She grinned, stepping closer so that her body was flush against mine. “Totally. ”
I tightened my grip on her waist, pulling her closer. “Good to know, mi amor. ”
She smiled up at me, but then her eyes drifted toward the displays. “I want to go see those,” she said, her voice soft but insistent, pointing toward the art pieces and sculpture garden nearby.
I nodded, guiding her toward the displays, taking in the luxury around us—priceless paintings hanging on the walls, limited-edition jewelry catching the light, and a collection of haute couture gowns on mannequins.
However, I had to pull away briefly for photos with the guys. Abigail chose to stay behind, not comfortable with the attention. When I returned, I saw her with yet another glass of champagne.
Sighing, I tried to take it from her, but she pulled it away, flashing me a defiant look. “I’m fine, Mikkel.”
As if on cue, Ronan showed up with a fresh bottle of champagne, and I almost snapped at him. I suppressed it, offering Abigail water with each glass she drank, but it barely helped.
By the time Azzaria stepped up, she asked, “Has she been at it all night?”
“From the moment Ronan brought the bottle over.”
“Stay with her till I’m back, please?” Azzaria asked. “I need to change these heels.”
“The car’s parked around the back and the doorman has the key.”
“Thanks, Mikkel.”
Abigail, now clearly feeling the effects of the alcohol, leaned in closer, her words slurring slightly.
“You’re a really great guy,” she murmured, her gaze unsteady as she searched my eyes.
“Thanks, Red.”
“I m-mean it,” she insisted, her voice softer now. “You make me feel good about myself.”
Warmth spread through me at her words, unexpected but hitting deep.
“Hey, you know what?” she slurred, swirling the last remnants of her drink in her glass, watching the liquid slosh lazily.
“What, baby?”
“I think… I think you’re like… like a puzzle.” She nodded emphatically, as if she had just unraveled some profound truth. “One of those really hard ones with a thousand pieces.”
I chuckled. “And what kind of puzzle are you?”
“I’m… I’m one of the simple ones.”
“Nope.” I shook my head, studying her. “You’re more like a painting. One of those abstract ones that catches your eye, and you can’t stop thinking about it—you don’t want to stop thinking about it.”
Her brows furrowed. “That sounds complicated.”
“You’re worth it.”
Her laughter faded, replaced by something quieter, more contemplative. “You mean that?”
I swallowed hard, nodding. “I mean it.”
A beat of silence passed before she whispered, “Do I really make you see color?”
The question made me pause. Then it hit me—Alex’s words from earlier, about how I was bland before her.
Brushing a loose curl from her face, I murmured, “You are the color, Red.”
Her breath hitched, and her eyes widened slightly, like she hadn’t expected me to say something like that. But it was the truth. From the moment she walked into my life, everything was brighter, bolder— alive .
She blinked, searching my face, her heartbeat quickening against me. Then, looking down at her hands, she blurted, “I’m a chronic overthinker. I over analyze every look, every word, everything. My brain doesn’t know how to shut up sometimes, and it’s exhausting.”
I shifted closer, my voice steady. “Let me silence the voices, then.”
She froze, eyes wide, like I’d just spoken a language she didn’t understand.
“What?”
“I mean it.” I smiled a little, softening my tone. “If your mind won’t stop running, I’ll quiet it. I’ll be there to make sure you feel peace, even if just for a moment.”
Heat rushed to her face. “T-that’s not how it works, Mikkel.”
“Why not?” I reached for her hand, my thumb brushing over her skin. “You tell me what’s going on in your head, and I’ll take it from there. Every worry, every fear, everything.”
She gulped the remaining alcohol, her eyes glassy with tears. “I always thought I was too… intense for anyone to want to stay.”
The words hit hard. I squeezed her hands, lacing our fingers together. “They were too dull for you.”
A hesitant smile curved her lips, but uncertainty lingered. “Sometimes I feel like I’m too much… or that I burn too brightly.”
“You were, and still are, more than enough. And even if you do burn brightly—that’s okay, too.” My forehead rested against hers. “I’d rather drown in your light than live in the dark without you.”
She inhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around mine. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but no words came.
Instead, she reached for the champagne bottle.
I caught her wrist gently, my fingers brushing her pulse. It was quick, fluttering—whether from the alcohol or something else, I wasn’t sure.
“That’s enough for tonight, baby.” My voice was low, coaxing. “Let’s get you home.”
Abigail pouted. “Bu–”
“You’ve had enough.” I stood, pulling her up with me. “Come on.”
She nodded, a sleepy smile playing on her lips as she leaned into me for support. After retrieving the keys from the valet, I helped Abigail into the car, where she quickly drifted off to sleep.
By the time we reached her apartment, she stirred just enough to show her ID before we headed upstairs, but it wasn’t long before her head lolled against my shoulder again .
I pressed a kiss to her temple. God, she had no idea what she did to me.
Fumbling through her purse, I finally found the swipe card and keys buried beneath lipstick tubes and crumpled receipts. With a sigh of relief, I unlocked the door and guided her inside, steadying her as she stumbled slightly.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
“Let’s get you to bed, Red.”
She sank on the edge of the mattress, heavy-lidded but still holding on.
“I saw something beautiful at the gala,” she murmured.
I crouched beside her. “Yeah? What was it?”
Her lips curled into the softest smile. “A necklace. Gold, with these tiny diamonds. It caught the light… like it was glowing.”
“Whe—”
She yawned, her lashes fluttering shut. “It was so pretty…” The words faded as sleep pulled her under.
“Red?” I called out but it made no sense, she was out like a light.
Carefully, I helped her lie down, gently removed her makeup and dress, then tucked her under a soft blanket. One by one, I pulled the pins from her hair, watching her curls tumble free. I let my fingers glide through them—slow and reverent—massaging her scalp before slipping on her silk bonnet.
By the time I returned with water and Tylenol, she was still fast asleep.
I kissed her forehead, savoring her peaceful expression, before slipping out to meet a visibly irritated Dillon at the gala.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Nothing, just… tired.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. Let’s go.”
I wanted to push, but the look in his eyes told me everything. Whatever it was, it had to do with Azzaria.
The car ride was quiet until he finally glanced at me .
“So, you and Abigail…?” His eyebrow lifted slightly, curiosity flickering in his gaze.
I nodded. “Yeah, but I haven’t officially asked her to be my girlfriend yet. I’m working on the details.”
Dillon smirked. “Happy for you, Suarez. Though I’m offended I wasn’t the first to know.”
I laughed. “That’s exactly what Arnoldo said.”
“Of course he did.” He chuckled, shaking his head. Then his expression softened. “Happiness looks good on you.”
I swallowed hard. “Thanks, brother.” I met his gaze, my voice quieter. “It looks good on you, too.”
He sighed, and for the first time tonight, his shoulders didn’t look so tense.
When we reached his building, I helped him out of the car, then headed home, already reaching for my phone.
Me: I’ll come see you in the morning.
I stared at the message for a second before locking my phone.
Morning couldn’t come fast enough.