8. Wren
Chapter 8
Wren
I stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, gazing at the rain-soaked city below. Car headlights stream like rivers of light through the streets, and the occasional flicker of traffic signals adds a pulse to the city's heartbeat. Reflections shimmer on wet surfaces, turning the night into a canvas of illuminated wonder. I shiver despite the warmth of the room, knowing the dangers that lurk out there.
Moving to the couch, I tuck my legs beneath me and sip my hot chocolate.
“Enjoying your drink?” Gabriel asks, sauntering into the living room from the kitchen with his mug of black coffee .
“It’s delicious. Who knew billionaires could make hot chocolate from scratch?” I tease.
“Just one of my many skills.” He grins, sitting beside me, an arm stretched along the back of the couch.
When he’s close, I feel it all over. And every time I move away from him, the magnetic pull of his presence tugs me back to his side.
But it’s been three days since I told him the reason I fled my house, and he hasn’t touched me since. It’s confusing, this dance we’re doing, and I still can’t figure him out.
His reaction that night was revealing. He wanted to kill Gregory and Jerry. For me. No one has ever had my back like Gabriel. I love how protective he is. I’m starting to love him . But is falling in love a risk I can take? Letting Gabriel in would be like handing my entire future to him and trusting him to take care of it. Can I do that?
My heart stutters as I set my mug down on the coffee table. “Gabriel?”
“Yes, Wren?” He turns slightly toward me, his body language open but cautious.
“Have you ever felt, I don’t know, like you wanted something you shouldn’t?” The words tumble out before I can stop them.
I hold my breath, waiting for his reply. For a moment, he watches me, but I can’t read his expression.His hand moves, brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead, and my whole body leans into that fleeting touch.
“Sometimes, wanting isn’t the problem,” he finally says. “It’s whether it’s wise to act on those wants.”
“Right,” I whisper, looking down at my hands. “Wise.” That’s Gabriel. And me? Not so much. But my heart pounds with the possibility of being reckless for once.
Gabriel downs his coffee—the man’s mouth must be lined with Teflon—and clears his throat. “I, uh, have a surprise for you,” he says, standing abruptly.
“A surprise?” I echo. My heart does an odd flip. I’m not used to surprises, at least not pleasant ones.
He nods and disappears, returning a moment later, holding a garment bag. “For our dinner tomorrow night,” he says, handing it to me.
I unzip the bag with trembling fingers and gasp. It’s a dress. A beautiful, elegant sheath dress in deep red that looks like it’s made of liquid rubies. The fabric shimmers as I hold it up, imagining how it will cling to my newly restored curves.
“Thank you, Gabe,” I whisper.
He smiles. “You’re welcome, little bird. Enjoy your hot chocolate. I have some phone calls to make.”
Little bird. The affectionate term resonates deep within me, kindling new desires and a yearning that has been quietly growing since I stepped into Gabriel’s world. This existence is so different from the one I fled from, and the possibilities seem endless.
“Gabriel?”
He pauses in the doorway. “Yes?”
I open my mouth, then close it again, shaking my head. “Nothing.”
He nods and heads to his office, leaving me with the crackle of the fire, the warmth of my hot chocolate, and the ghost of his touch still lingering on my skin.
The silk hugs my body like it’s made for me, which I guess it was. The dress is bold, a statement I never thought I’d make. But here I am, slipping into the heels that are way too expensive to even look at, let alone wear. They click on the hardwood floor, echoing in the silence of Gabriel’s penthouse.
“Wow.” That’s all he says when I step out of the bedroom, but his eyes speak volumes.
I’m not used to being the center of attention, but as I meet his gaze, something shifts inside me. Fake it until you make it, right? I stand taller, allowing the heat in his eyes to give me confidence.
“You clean up pretty nice yourself,” I tease, trying to match his level of suave and failing miserably.
His laugh is low. “You look amazing, Wren.”
“You sure know how to pick out dresses,” I say, my voice soft.
An unspoken conversation hovers in his brown eyes, one that tells me he sees more than the dress and the woman in it. He sees… me. And every day, with every glance and every touch, he makes me feel like I’m worth seeing.
Ed’s waiting by the car when we step outside. His nod is somehow respectful and mischievous. It’s like he knows something I don’t. Maybe he does.
We climb into the back seat of the luxury car, and Ed drives us through streets sparkling with Halloween lights, the city wrapped in its ghostly best.
Gabriel is greeted like a long-lost friend by the owner of the restaurant—a tall, dark-haired Italian in his mid-thirties called Matteo—and we’re quickly shown to our table in the back.
Gabriel takes control, ordering for us without a second thought. I let him because he knows what I like. But does he know what I want? I glance at him across the table, my heart doing a stupid little dance in my chest. Yeah. It’s him. Nothing else comes close.
Nervous energy builds inside me, and I tap my foot under the table. His stern glance cuts right through me, and I drop my gaze, stilling my fidgeting. But I can’t help the smile that curls my lips. This game, this push and pull between us, is addictive.
“Wren,” he says, his voice a blend of amusement and warning.
It sends a thrill down my spine, and I bite my lip to hold back a giggle. He’s enjoying this as much as I am, I can tell. That thought alone is enough to keep a smile on my face for the next year.
But then I start to fidget again as we wait for our food, not content to simply watch the other diners. My leg bounces, and Gabriel leans toward me.
“Behave, little bird,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.“Or I’ll take you home and put you over my knee.” His voice is a soft growl that wraps around me like velvet ropes.
I freeze, my heart hammering in my chest. He leans back, casually picking up his glass of water as if he didn’t drop a bombshell into my lap and detonate it.
My thoughts are a whirlwind. Does he mean… spank me? The idea sends an electric thrill through me, and for the life of me, I can’t stop imagining what that would be like. His hand. On my skin. It’s all I can think about, and I’m suddenly very aware of the chair beneath me. Heat pools in my core. I shift slightly as wetness spreads over my panties.
Holy crap. I can’t believe this is happening.
The rest of dinner passes in a blur. I’m sure each bite is delicious, but my appetite is now for something else entirely. All I want is Gabriel. The dessert arrives, and it’s a decadent chocolate lava cake that melts on my tongue. But it’s not him. It’s not enough.
“Ready?” he asks after the server clears our plates .
“Yeah,” I breathe, standing quickly.
He’s right there, helping me into my coat. The chill nips at my cheeks outside the restaurant, and I’m grateful for its warmth.
Gabriel helps me into the car, his hand steady on my back. I slide into the seat, hyper-aware of every point where his fingers lingered. The door shuts with a soft thud, encasing us in the quiet luxury of Ed’s driving.
“Thank you for dinner,” I say, trying to find normalcy in the whirlpool of my mind.
“Did you enjoy it?” Gabriel asks, the corner of his mouth quirking.
“Very much so,” I reply, though part of me, a very big part, wants to add, But it wasn’t the only thing I wanted to taste tonight.
The car glides through the streets, and the city lights streak past us like falling stars. All I can think about is the distance closing between us and whether the night will end with a kiss or a spank.
We take the elevator up from the underground parking lot, and the doors slide open to Gabriel’s penthouse, an expanse of dark wood, marble floors, and soft lighting that still takes my breath away.
He helps me off with my coat, his fingers brushing my bare shoulders and sending a shiver down my spine. I’m hyper-aware of his proximity, of how much I’ve come to crave these small touches.
“You were very good over dinner,” he says, hanging up my coat. His voice is low, almost a purr that vibrates through me.
I tilt my head, feigning innocence, but my voice holds a boldness I never knew I possessed. “How good?”
“Good enough that you won’t be getting that spanking for fidgeting,” he replies, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
My cheeks heat in relief and something that might be disappointment. I flash him a smile, feeling daring as I turn my back to him.
“Can you unzip me?” My voice comes out breathier than intended.
There’s a pause, a heartbeat or two when everything hangs suspended in time. Then his hands land on my shoulders, warm and steady.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for, little bird,” he murmurs, an edge to his voice that sends a thrill right through me .
A sigh escapes me as his lips brush my ear. I lean back into him ever so slightly. “I think I do, Daddy.” The words are barely a whisper, a tentative step into this new realm between us.
His hands clench on my shoulders. Not moving to the zipper. Not pulling away. Simply holding me like I’m precious. And at that moment, surrounded by the luxury he’s brought me into, all I can focus on is the man behind me and the palpable tension wrapped around us like a satin ribbon.
“Gabriel.” His name is a plea, an admission of desire. I wait, my heart pounding, wondering if he’ll cross that line we’ve been toeing for weeks.
His hands move, his fingers trailing down my arms and landing on my waist, sending tiny electric shocks across my skin. It’s like he knows exactly how to make me quiver without even trying.
“I don’t think you’re ready for this, Wren. You’re young. You need someone… your own age.” His voice is a low rasp laced with restraint.
Is he testing me? Making sure this is what I want?
I exhale raggedly, turning my head to look up at him from beneath my eyelashes. “What I feel for you has nothing to do with age.” I’m so far out of my depth here. I’ve never even kissed a man. “I’ve finally found somewhere that I fit. With you. I want this new beginning with you, Gabe. I don’t want to face the shadows alone anymore. I just want?—”
My words die as his hands slide higher, brushing the sides of my breasts in a way that’s anything but accidental. My breath hitches, and I’m suddenly painfully aware of how close we are, of how easy it would be for him to make me his.
He leans in, grazing his teeth over a sensitive spot on my neck. “I know what you want because it’s what I want. What I’ve wanted from the moment I saw you. I want you to be my little girl.”