Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
CRICKET
Gabriel looks oddly nervous. In the three weeks I’ve known him, he’s always so smooth, composed, and overall, in control. But right now, standing next to me in his pristine designer tuxedo, I see the drink in his hand, shaking.
“Thank you for inviting me tonight,” I say softly.
My words seem to remind him I’m standing right next to him. Pulling his gaze away from the front entrance of the restaurant, he makes eye contact. “Thank you for coming. I realize this is a little fast to meet my friends. I’m sorry if I put you on the spot.”
I smile as I sip my martini. “It’s not every day I have the opportunity to meet the President of the United States. Any other very important and powerful friends you haven’t mentioned?”
Gabriel smiles. He sets his drink down and flexes his hand. “He wasn’t always the President, Fiona. Once upon a time, he was just Uncle Sal. He invested in my first serious invention—or, more accurately, his wife did. Vienne came from money, and a lot of it.” He makes a disgusted face.
“You think he married her for money?” I force myself to press for more information. I’ve spent at least ten dates with Gabriel, three of which were romantic weekends at the bed-and-breakfast. I’m fabricating a connection, but it doesn’t feel so fake. Do I want to get in his pants? Not particularly. But do I want to know why his smile is so painted on…like he spends his days crying when no one is around? Yes. In fact, I need to know. Because I just don’t see the monster Vienne is talking about. In fact, her vendetta is starting to seem ridiculous.
“No.” Gabriel picks his drink up from the standing table and slams it back in one gulp. “I think they married for love. Anyway,” he says, showing me a sweet, genuine smile. “Did I tell you how stunning you look tonight?”
I hold up two fingers. “Twice already.”
“Well, you do. Actually, funny thing… I don’t think I’ve ever used the word ‘bewitching’ in a conversation before.”
I take another small sip of my drink. “Well, Mr. Lochland, no time like the present.”
Gabriel grabs my martini from my hand and sets it down on the table. Taking my hand in his, he brings my fingertips to his lips. He kisses them each individually in a grandiose show of affection. “Fiona, you look absolutely bewitching tonight. And I apologize I’ve been distracted. You have my attention. In fact, you’ve had my attention since the first moment I saw you in my club a few weeks ago.”
I swear I’m not falling for it… Except then, why is my heart beating so fast? I think it’s the nerves. The adrenaline of knowing you’re a liar.
“Thank you,” I muster out in a whisper.
“Do I have yours?” Gabriel releases my hand, picks up my martini, and hands it back to me.
“Pardon?”
“Do I have your attention?”
I nod in reply.
“Does that mean you’ll finally spend the night with me, tonight?”
Oh, shit. I knew this was coming.
By some miracle, I managed to evade sleeping with Gabriel for almost a month, including three overnight trips together. We agreed to take things slow. The first weekend he didn’t press. At night, I stayed in my room, and he stayed in his. The second weekend we still got separate suites, but he lingered at the door when he walked me to my room. He chuckled when I wished him a good night and told him to sleep tight. The third weekend was trickier. Gabriel only reserved one suite for us, clearly having decided it was time for us to get naked.
I had to feign a terrible wine headache. Gabriel was sweet. He got me a cold compress for my head and rubbed my feet. He apologized several times for going overboard and dragging me to so many vineyards, insisting I sampled all his favorite wines. I shared a bed with him that night, with an imaginary line drawn between us.
Honestly, I should consider sleeping with Gabriel a perk of the job. He is the quintessential definition of sexy. He’s so hot, in fact, his supposed desire to end the world might be forgivable. I’m a killer, a thief, and the daughter of a mob monster. My virtue isn’t exactly an issue.
The problem is…
There’s a warmth I feel when Lance smiles at me. I feel grounded when we laugh together. I can rest in his arms. I’m on fire when he touches me. My mind goes fuzzy when he whispers all the filthy ways he wants me. Once you taste love like that, nothing else has flavor.
Gabriel’s still waiting on a reply, so I rack my brain for an excuse. “Um, I…”
The rest of my sentence, that I don’t know how to finish anyway, is drowned out when the entire restaurant, filled with about fifty or so guests, starts singing, “ Happy birthday to you.”
All eyes are on the entrance as President Baker enters with a beautifully done-up Vienne. Her dress is a bright red and lined with sequins. It makes me a little uncomfortable how closely we match. Gabriel is the one who had my outfit sent to my room when he invited me to this event. It’s a coincidence that I’m dressed up like Vienne’s twin, right? At least her shoes are a matching red, whereas mine are black and strappy.
The surprisingly harmonious singing rips through the restaurant entrance, like a performing choir. Who knew politicians could sing like this? Gabriel places his hand on my back and uses the distraction as an opportunity to pardon himself.
“Will you excuse me for a moment?” he asks.
“Why? Are you okay?”
“Yes.” He flashes me a clipped smile, like he’s annoyed I’m questioning him. “Restroom.”
“Okay.” I nod.
“Should I bring you another when I come back?” Gabriel nods toward my nearly empty martini.
“Please.” My brows furrow as I study the peculiar tense expression he’s wearing.
“Extra filthy, right?” Gabriel winks, then reaches out to smooth the wrinkles between my brows. “Relax. You’re safe. I’ll be right back.” He wraps his hand around the back of my head and brings my lips to his. Instead of the peck I was expecting, he kisses me hard. I’m so taken by surprise I don’t have time to pull away before his tongue slips in my mouth.
With that, he’s off, disappearing down the hallway that leads to the restrooms. Gabriel thinks I was apprehensive about being left alone in a room full of strangers. Quite the contrary—I was trying to figure out what the hell spooked him. His phone didn’t ring. It had to be the President’s arrival, which doesn’t make sense. Obviously, they are on good terms if he was invited to a personal birthday party. Gabriel even opted to bring a date.
This Gabriel mystery is making less and less sense.
“Well, you two look chummy.”
My heart nearly surges out of my chest when I hear his voice. I can’t hide my surprise at Lance’s sudden appearance next to me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I gasp out, as the last remnants of my drink spill over my glass. I have to pause to catch my breath because, holy shit, Lance in a tux has my heart thumping and the heat rising to my cheeks. I forgot what a perfect specimen he really is.
“I’m Vienne’s security.”
I scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I hiss. “Her security guards have their own security guards. They’re covered. You’re here checking up on me.”
“Well, should I be? It’s been weeks. No one has heard from you.”
“I’m undercover. You’re not supposed to hear from me.” I speak through a soft smile, trying not to tip off any onlookers that we’re bickering. “What’re you implying?”
“Exactly what I said…that you two look chummy,” Lance says, facing forward, not looking at me. His jaw is clenched, and he looks shaky and pissed off. The earmarks of jealousy bubbling to the service. I feel the immediate urge to comfort him.
“I’m on a mission.”
“You know, he’s dangerous, unhinged, and isn’t right in the head.”
I scoff. “According to who? Vienne? You’re drinking the Kool-Aid. Maybe you should start questioning who the real villain is. Gabriel isn’t a monster. He has a whole world that uses him, his wealth, and his intelligence. If he’s unhinged, it’s because he was driven to the edge.”
“ Wow, ” Lance says, pairing it with a humorless cackle. “You deserve a fucking Emmy, Cricket,” he bites out.
“Thank you. Good acting means I’m doing my job.”
“Not for him.” Lance finally looks at me, his piercing stare full of fury. “ For me. Ten fucking years of a flawless performance, and I ate that shit up. If you loved me like I love you, no way you could look at another man like that. No way you could kiss him like—”
“Lance, he kissed me. ”
“This time,” Lance says. “What happened at the bed-and-breakfast?”
“How do you even know about that?” I seethe.
Lance holds my gaze with unblinking eyes. “Answer me.”
I can’t. Not here. I want to tell Lance that as soon as I’m done with my mission, we can move forward. When Gabriel goes back to his life, and I go back to mine, I’ll start patching the holes with Lance. We can still try at our happily ever after.
“Am I interrupting?” Gabriel says from behind me, making me jump.
After one more glare in my direction, Lance slaps a showman smile on his face. “Not at all. I’m part of the First Lady’s security detail this evening. I’m just making rounds, ensuring everyone is comfortable.”
“Ah, I see. I can read right between the lines. Don’t worry, we have an invitation.” Gabriel smiles and holds out his hand to shake Lance’s. “I’m Gabriel Lochland, and this is my plus-one.”
I want to melt into a human puddle and slip right through the wooden floorboards. I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my life, standing in between the man I love, and the man I’m trying to seduce.
Gabriel sets my fresh drink down on our table.
“Let me guess,” Lance says, “extra filthy?”
“With two extra olives. Fiona’s favorite,” Gabriel adds nonchalantly.
“Fiona?” Lance asks. He looks at me, and I know exactly what’s on his mind. I gave Gabriel my real name, but it’s not because this is real. I have to explain…
Lance pulls the plastic spear from my drink that holds the two fat olives. “You don’t mind, do you, Fiona? ” He pops the first olive in his mouth, then chews slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.
I close my eyes and suck in my lips. “Not at all.”
“Have a good evening, folks. Enjoy the party.” Lance storms away, making a beeline to the exit.
Shockingly clueless, Gabriel wraps his arms around my shoulders. “Secret Service is getting a little rude, don’t you think?” He shakes his head and laughs. “Must be the stress. Hang tight, sweetheart.” Gabriel holds up two fingers at a passing waiter. “I’ll summon a few more olives.”