Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
He found her in her suite at the Monarch, curled up on the couch with a glass of wine and a book. She looked up when he walked in, tucking the key she’d given him into his back pocket, and the hope in her eyes nearly broke him.
“Hey.”
Gabriel crossed the room, then took the wine glass from her hand and set it on the table.
“Come with me.”
She laughed. “And hello to you, too.”
He pulled her to her feet and led her to the bedroom. “Tie me up.”
One brow lifted, clearly intrigued. Then she frowned. “Gabe, are you sure?”
“The scarves in your closet.” He was already pulling his shirt over his head, toeing off his shoes. “Tie my wrists to the headboard. Tie them tight.”
“Really?”
“Trust me.” He caught her face in his hands, then kissed her hard, the kind of kiss that had her moaning and him hard and ready. “Trust me,” he said, his voice rough.
For a moment, she just looked at him, her nipples hard under her thin tee. Then she nodded once and crossed to the closet.
Gabriel stripped off the rest of his clothes and lay back on the bed, arms stretched above his head. His heart pounded. Every chatty little instinct screamed at him to stop this, to take control, to protect himself.
He beat the little fuckers back.
Bella returned with two silk scarves, and although she bit her lip as she bound his wrists to the bed frame, her hands were as steady as a surgeon’s.
“Too tight?”
He shook his head.
She tested the knots. Tugged. Then sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him. “This is new to me. I mean, I liked it when you used to tie me up, but we never...” She trailed off, gesturing to his naked body, laid out like a present for her.
“Equal opportunity bondage.”
She grinned. “I like it. But,” she added, tilting her head. “Why?”
“Hello? I’m naked and tied to your bed.” He glanced down at his rock-hard cock, then saw her grin when she followed his gaze.
“Fair point. We’ll have the debriefing after I have my way with you.” She shimmied out of her leggings, then straddled him, still in her tee. “If you need me to stop?”
“Stillwater. I say that, you stop.”
“Yeah,” she said, her voice soft. “That works.” Then she bent forward and kissed him, gentle but intense. At the same time, she started to rock her hips, rubbing her bare cunt against his abs.
“Oh, holy fuck,” he murmured, then drew in a breath that was more like a gasp.
“Close your eyes,” she whispered. “I’ve got you. Just let yourself go.”
He didn’t need much persuasion. The knots were tight. She was safe.
And damn, but this felt good.
Her hands stroked his ribs, moving up slowly, as those hips kept undulating. A brush of her thumb against his nipple.
Then she pulled off her shirt and bent forward, starting slow as she pressed kisses along his jaw, his throat, the ridge of his collarbone.
Her hands traced the scars on his chest—the bullet wounds, the burns, the map of everything he’d survived.
And Gabriel lay there, bound and helpless, and let himself feel it.
She rose up, now sliding her hands higher, finding his shoulders, teasing the soft skin of his neck, so vulnerable there.
The beast woke up.
It prowled through his chest. Snarling. Straining. His wrists jerked against the ties, twisting at the waist as her hands clung to his shoulders, his head whipping sideways and back as every nerve screamed at him to break free, to fight, to take control before something terrible happened.
But the bonds held. And Bella kept touching him. Kept kissing him. Drawing a line with her tongue down his torso, teasing his cock in a way that had him wanting to scream in fear and desperation, even while crying out in absolute, pure pleasure.
“It’s okay,” she murmured over and over. “I’m fine. I’m safe. And so are you.”
She bent forward again, her breasts brushing his skin as her lips teased his nipples.
As her mouth closed over his, hard and demanding.
As she rocked her hips so that her ass stroked his cock until he wasn’t sure anymore if this was torment or pleasure, heaven or hell.
All he knew was that he wanted her. That he needed her.
That maybe—just maybe—this was working.
When she finally stripped off the rest of her clothes and straddled him, he nearly lost his mind.
“Stay with me,” she breathed, sinking down onto him. “Right here.”
“Izzy.” Her name tore out of him.
“I’ve got you.” She started to move, slow and deliberate. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
The beast howled.
He opened his eyes, saw her dual-colored ones, and arched completely off the bed, straining toward her, pushing against the bonds.
Lust and fear and desire and need all mixing together like a whirlwind inside him.
But he couldn’t fight. Couldn’t take control.
Could only surrender to the sensation, to her, to the terrifying vulnerability of being completely at her mercy.
And somewhere in the white-hot center of the pleasure, something broke open.
Not the beast. Something older. Deeper. The wall he’d built in that cabin five years ago, the one that said vulnerability meant death. It cracked. Crumbled. Let in light. Not completely gone. Not yet. But finally fading.
And when that white hot pleasure ripped through him—when his entire body exploded with his release—he knew that this was it. Not a cure, but a path. A well-lit path to lead him back to his Izzy, and to the man he’d buried deep inside himself.
She untied him afterward, pressing kisses to his lips, his chest, his wrists. Then she curled against his side, her head on his chest.
“How did you know?” she finally asked.
He pulled her closer, pressed his lips to her hair.
“Travis,” he said. And then, slowly, haltingly, he told her everything. The conversation. The realization. All of it. “I’m not cured,” he said. “Not yet.”
“But it’s a path,” she said, her choice of words making him smile.
“Will you walk it with me?”
“You know I will.” For a moment, she was quiet, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “I love you.”
“I know.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you, too.”
They lay there in the quiet, wrapped around each other, breathing together. And for the first time in years, Gabriel’s mind was still.
His phone shattered the silence.
He tensed, old instincts surging. But Bella’s hand pressed flat against his chest, grounding him.
“It’s just the phone. And it might be important.”
With a groan, he reached for the damn thing, then sat up the second he saw Leo’s name on the screen.
“You’re on speaker. I’m with Bella. What’s up?”
“We found it.” Leo’s voice was tight with controlled excitement. “The three-hundred thou that got funneled to Dekker and Webb to finance their little party. The one that supposedly traced back to Bella. We know who really owned it.”
“Tell me,” Gabriel said.
“Two entities co-owned the account. Bella’s trust fund and another entity set up to look like a corporation only to skirt some tax laws.”
“What was it really?” Bella asked, holding tight to his arm.
“A twisting web of shell companies on top of shell companies, the whole thing set up twenty-six years ago in Isabella’s name, but with Sterling Hart buried down deep, the grand master of all that corporate bullshit.”
“And you can prove all of this?” Gabe asked.
“Hell, yes. And more. Five days before you left on your Aspen trip, someone walked into a branch bank in Manhattan and withdrew three hundred grand in cash from that account. The teller even remembers. Hell, that much cash, a woman alone. Not something that happens often. She showed ID, signed the paperwork. Everything checked out. As far as the bank was concerned, she was Isabella.”
Beside him, she squeezed his hand. “And I’m betting you’ve found proof of who it really was.”
“I’m just that awesome,” Leo said. “I had a buddy hack the archive to pull the security footage. We lucked out that the policy was to retain it all on a hard drive.” Leo paused. “It’s not Isabella. Similar build, similar features. But it’s not her.”
“Who?”
“Mina Panov.”
“That bitch,” Bella snapped.
“Yeah, well, can’t argue there,” Leo said. “And we know she’s been fucking Sterling on and off for at least five years. And guess whose account got fifty-K richer that same week?”
“Send us everything,” Gabriel said.
“Already done, but here’s the problem—Sterling’s in the wind. Mina, too.”
Gabriel shut his eyes, tamping the fury down. “Of course he is. The bastard’s been planning this for years. He’s not going to stick around and wait for us to nail him.”
“I’ve got people on it,” Leo said. “He can’t hide forever.”
“Fine.” Gabe forced the fury and frustration back down. “I’ll check in with you later.” With a groan, he hung up, then turned to Bella.
For at least two minutes, she said absolutely nothing. Then she laughed—sharp and brittle. “My whole life,” she said. “I’ve never been his daughter. A tool, that’s all. Just someone he can manipulate at his convenience.”
“Gabriel cupped her face. “You’re here. I’m here. And we’re going to take him down. Justice, I promise. Not vengeance.”
She flashed a sideways smile. “Honestly, I’m okay with a little vengeance.” Then she kissed him—fierce and wild and desperate. When she pulled back, her eyes were bright.
“He can’t hide forever,” she said. “We’ll find him. And then we’ll finish this.”