Chapter 3
Iwipe the sweat from my brow and glower at the display on the treadmill.
Usually by mile two I’m counting the tenths until I can breeze down to a walk. Today, I’m cranking up to go for three. Four. Five miles.
Hell, maybe I’ll run on this stupid machine until I collapse. It would give the guy beside me something to do besides stare at my ass.
Today’s visit to the building’s gym has been less about working out my body and more about purging the demons from last night.
Kind of funny that I’ve been struggling to write a book for months when my life is a freaking soap opera.
My latest lead about Dad proved to be another dead end. Other than the fact that Rob Carnegie is a gin snob and an intimidating asshole, I got nothing new from the man. Not that I expected him to blurt the entire story, but a hint that could lead to a clue that could lead to, well, a lead would have been nice.
My impromptu make-out session with a hot stranger hadn’t even led to a satisfying end. Cian bought me a drink and told me about his rising career in the music industry, but ultimately, I went home with nothing but a lecture from Pedro about the perils of hooking up with attractive musicians.
At mile three, I decide against dying on a treadmill today and wind it down instead.
The air is cool on my sweaty body as I make my back to the penthouse. By the time the elevator slides open at my floor, I’m dreaming of a shower and a quiet day on the couch.
With Mom across the country at some editorial photoshoot, I have the entire place to myself. After last night’s adventure, a day of mindless binge watching is sounding pretty damn good.
I drop my bag by the door, turn the corner to the kitchen, and stop cold.
With coffee in hand, a naked man stands at our window, his gaze fixed through the wall of glass.
“Oh, come on. Seriously?” I mumble.
His blond hair is wet and wavy as if he stepped out of the shower and bypassed a towel. Or a robe. Or any shred of modesty.
From his chiseled shoulders and back, to an ass that looks hand-crafted by an artist, the guy’s perfect body makes him look more carved marble statue than actual human being.
Even the intricate tattoos covering his back seem designed solely to keep my eyes glued to him. A bow and arrow intertwines beautifully with what appears to be a harp, creating a layered image that would likely be even more stunning up close.
It’s annoying how much I’m suddenly longing to do just that—especially since his stance is commanding, like he owns the place.
Then I remember I’m probably ogling one of Mom’s conquests.
Ugh.
“Maybe put some pants on after fucking my mom?”
The guy spins around, and I gasp.
“What are you doing here?” I ask at the same time he says, “You’re Celeste’s daughter?”
His shocked expression is quickly replaced by a flash of irritation, like I’ve somehow ruined his plans for the day. As if it’s unthinkable that I’d stumble upon him in my own house and be anything other than elated.
A smirk slips over his perfect lips. He starts toward me, and my mouth goes dry. If the rear view was art, this one should be illegal.
“Hey. Nice to see you again. I’m Aden Ward, a friend of Celeste’s,” he tosses my way.
“This is…” I stammer, unable to find my words. I shake my head.
He’s just another guy. Even worse, he’s one of her guys. Snap out of it, Gabi!
“I don’t care who the hell you are. You’re in my house. Can you at least wear clothes if you’re going to invade my privacy?”
I tear my gaze away to yank open the refrigerator door. My body seems to recognize the moment he joins me in the kitchen.
Still naked.
And now distractingly close.
I steal a glance over my shoulder then go back to searching for milk.
God, I hate how he’s just standing there all cocky and self-assured.
“You never told me your name,” he says.
“I can’t. I’m not covered under the NDA Mom probably made you sign.”
The corner of his mouth lifts when I take another peek. “Sure you are. Article three, paragraph two.”
I hate that I have to fight a smile of my own at his joke. “Yeah? Well, my name is irrelevant. In just a few minutes, I’ll be ‘the daughter of the woman you fucked who walked out on this conversation’ and you’ll be ‘another blond with the big dick.’”
He snorts a laugh. “Well, I’d rather be the blond with the big dick than the blond with the little dick. Was he here recently? Did you give him the same warm welcome and once-over?”
Our gazes lock. He’s enjoying this.
I’m still trying to recover from inadvertently complimenting his dick when I notice the way his eyes are sparkling. Memories of the strange effect in the club come flooding back.
Now, though, it’s clear it’s not just the lighting. They actually seem to shift from green to blue to hazel then back to green.
“I take that back,” I say, tilting my head. “You’re the blond with the weird eyes. Why do they keep changing color?”
He shifts uncomfortably, but the teasing smile returns quickly.
“Seriously. Just tell me your name.”
Something in the tone of his voice makes me flustered. I squirm beneath his appraisal.
“Gabriela, but everyone calls me Gabi. Or even Gabs if we’re really close. Which I guess is just Rachel and Pedro these days. Not that you know them or will ever meet them or… whatever.”
I wince at my overshare and try to shake off the nerves.
I go back to preparing my coffee.
Just last night I was eye-fucking this guy in the club, imagining doing all kinds of filthy things to him. Today I find out that he’s my mom’s boyfriend.
And he’s here.
And she’s not.
And he’s not wearing any clothes.
And I know I shouldn’t want him, but somehow, I still do.
All of this is so surreal.
If my internal war registers on my face, Aden doesn’t acknowledge it.
Instead, he straightens and reaches out his hand again, as if he wasn’t completely naked.
“Nice to meet you, Gabi.”
I hesitate then decide what the hell, we’ve come this far.
A bolt of electricity fires through my palm and up my arm when my fingers connect with his. The sensation makes me flinch. But it’s not painful. It’s… pleasant. Really pleasant and unexpected.
I look up into his eyes, which are sparkling again amidst his twin look of surprise. He withdraws his hand quickly, and I can’t help but wonder what in the world my mother dragged home this time.
What the fuck!?
I pull my hand from Gabi’s and resist the urge to flex my fingers.
Schooling my features, I study the exquisite girl from the club last night and try to make sense of what just happened.
It’s not unusual for me to feel a connection when I touch someone—especially with a human I find attractive. Usually, it’s a gentle warming, hardly perceptible to the human. It makes them feel safe, uninhibited, aroused.
But in the year that I’ve been trapped in Slate City, the connection has never been this strong. I’m at a loss for how to explain it.
I decide redirection is the best course.
“Gabriela. That means God’s bravest woman. I think it suits you. Of course, given our current circumstances, maybe I should call you Gabi? Or even Gabs?”
“Given our current circumstances, Gabriela works just fine.”
“You sure? That could get awkward since your mom said I could stay for a while.”
My cocky grin is back.
So is her scowl.
“I know you think this is some windfall for you,” she clips out. “But just a heads-up, you’re probably the twentieth boytoy she’s brought home in the last few months. She’s not going to marry you no matter how good you are in bed.”
A smile drifts over my lips. She’s tenacious, I’ll give her that.
“Yeah? Pretty sure my bedroom skills are the only reason I’m standing here.”
Her immediate blush is excellent. The drop of her gaze to my dick, even better.
She frowns, then mutters something to herself before turning to grab a sugar bowl.
I can’t help but laugh as she pretends she’s not rattled by this magnificently absurd situation. However, her expression has been a constant flux between irritation, intrigue, and arousal, giving her away.
And she doesn’t even know what we just did in my head in the shower.
I probably shouldn’t show my amusement, but it’s impossible not to with her bold attempt at indignation.
Last night she stole my attention in a way I rarely experience when I saw her with Cian on the dance floor. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I still can’t, but it’s different now that I know she’s Celeste’s daughter.
This development means any thought of visiting her bed is out. Not that she appears to have any intention of inviting me.
I lean against the counter and cross my arms as I watch her huff around the kitchen.
Her attraction is evident. I felt it last night and I feel it again now. I just can’t tell if she’s upset that I’m here or that I’m here for someone else.
“My point is, whatever my mother made you believe is bullshit. You’re just another distraction to her.”
A fresh smile lingers on my lips. “So I should return the engagement ring I bought?”
Her eyes go wide, then narrow when she sees I’m teasing her.
There are no illusions about why I’m here.
To use and be used in a futile chase for happiness… that’s the real human experience.
Gabi’s clearly not interested in the reality of who I am. That’s fine. Even her mother doesn’t know much about me, which is exactly how I want it.
No one gets access to the real Aden Ward. My truth is a catastrophe for everyone involved.
Gabi clings tightly to her indignation as she scans me again, but I can tell the heat flooding her delicate veins is more than anger.
“Whatever,” she mumbles while helping herself to the coffee. “For future reference, there’s a single serve machine over there. You don’t have to brew a full pot.”
“So sweet of you to assume there will be a next time. I must be special.”
She rolls her eyes and pushes past me toward another hallway. “Just maybe wear some underwear, okay?”