Chapter 5
KATHERINE
I step back into the boardroom, chin up, a little swing in my hips.
If Gabriel is going to end things, I’m not going to let him see how fucking bad that’s going to pierce my heart.
Geez, I need to think about something safer. Something that doesn’t make my eyes water and my lungs dangerously close to hyperventilating.
Placing my satchel on the corner of the table, I pivot on the leather soles and cross my arms loosely beneath my breasts.
His gaze skims down the length of me, and there’s a little twitch in his jaw. Good.
So many people are an open book to me. Their desires, obvious. Their tells, easy to discern. But Gabe might as well be a Murder, She Wrote episode. Other than that momentary interest, he’s unreadable. Which makes me pull my shoulders down and back.
He shuts the door, and my heart stutters.
This feels like a trap.
We’re closed in here. Not just with him, but with all the feelings and the memories and the dreams. The ceaseless questions—
He turns my way. My pulse skitters at the intense blaze in the blue depths of his eyes. He closes the distance between us, and I back up, ass hitting the edge of the table.
Swallowing again, I realize just how defensive I must look. Dropping my arms, I lace my fingers and keep my expression carefully neutral. Despite the way my stomach swishes back and forth like a dinghy in a hurricane, I force the words out. “What did you want to talk about, Gabriel?”
He huffs. “So, it’s Gabriel now?”
I don’t reply to that, simply lift a brow and wait. It’s an old tactic. Make your opponent talk by waiting them out. Always make them show their cards first.
“First, I was willing to make an insane donation if there were any murmurings of voting you out.”
My silly heart lifts at that. He was?
I’m surprised he thought of it. That his thoughts went in that direction. That he’d come up with a contingency plan. Still, I’m not ready to read too much into his words. I can’t. Words without actions…
I gave in so easily the night after the auction. Falling into the pent-up emotions and the charisma and letting it all go to my head. Even now, it’s hard to keep my hands still when all I want is to slide them beneath that sharp suit jacket and feel the heat of him. All those lean muscles.
“That’s generous of you.”
His lips twist, and he does this side jerking motion with his chin, as if he’s stretching his neck because he’s uncomfortable.
“It’s the least I can do, Princess.”
My body reacts instantly to the name. Just like earlier, there’s a wild combination of longing and aversion. “Don’t—”
“Don’t?”
“Don’t call me that,” I say. But what I really want to add is, don’t make me feel like you still care. Like I have a place in your life when you’re pulling away.
“Okay.”
That’s it?
Okay?
No fighting for it? No sharp comment. Just an easy acquiescence.
It takes every bit of bitter determination to stay standing when my knees feel like they could give out. Like my whole body just wants to dissolve into the carpet and forget this whole month ever happened.
Except I never want to forget that King and I finally got out of our own way. I never want to forget the way Alex stepped up, strode into my life, and became the tower of strength I needed.
“What do you want, Gabriel?”
He steps even closer, and my body comes alive at his nearness. Why am I so connected to him? It’s like he breathes, I breathe. He blinks, I blink.
I lean back against the table, hands dropping to close over the edge.
I fully expect him to mirror my movement.
And even though he doesn’t actually close the distance, doesn’t brace his hands against the polished tabletop, he does lean in a little closer.
Staring down at me with those ocean blue eyes, so full of emotions.
The longing inside me feels like a drug.
The ultimate high.
“I messed up, and I’m sorry.”
Good grief. Does he have to give me that sheepish puppy dog look while he delivers that? I’m a total sucker for it, apparently.
But I can’t be. I just… can’t.
“Apology accepted,” I say as coolly as possible. “If that’s all—”
“That’s not all. I’ve messed up multiple times, and I have a lot of apologizing to do—”
“You’ve apologized. I’ve accepted. We’re good.”
The muscle flexes in his jaw again, and heavens help me, that shouldn’t be so dang sexy. I shouldn’t feel the least bit of desire at all. He literally kicked me out of his townhouse. How much empathy can I offer and remain whole?
He drops his gaze and shakes his head. When he looks up at me from beneath those dark lashes, my stomach clenches tight.
“I knew you were going to ruin me. I just thought it would mean completing your grandfather’s work.”
Ice pick meet heart. I suck in a sharp breath and look away. I just can’t stare into those eyes and not drown.
“I’m saying this all wrong,” he says, sighing. “Earlier, what you heard me say about the B-rated movie. I spoke poorly and should have clarified. We’re not the B-rated movie.” He waves a finger between us. Gosh, I love his hands. The blunt tips of his fingers, even the shape of his nails.
Focus, Katherine.
“The plot with your mother… that’s what I meant. You’re…” His voice fades, and I can’t help myself. I have to look at him. “Amazing.”
His gaze drops to my lips, and my body screams ‘yes!’ My heart lifts, and my lungs suck in a hopeful breath. But I force every inch of me to take a chill pill.
“You told me to get out, Gabriel. Now you… what? Want me back? Make up your mind.”
I’m not going to make this easy for him. Because it’s exactly my tendency to do that. Smooth the way. Make excuses. And maybe a week ago, I would have. The dazzle and lust had been strong enough to make me lose my head.
But things are different now.
He’s held himself aloof for so long.
“I do. I was an idiot,” he utters, sounding contrite. “We both know that. But… I want a chance.”
I huff a laugh so I won’t cry. ’Cause really, I feel like crying again. You’d think I’d be cried out by now, but I’m not.
I lick my lips. “You just said I ruined you.”
There’s a split second of silence where the tension thickens between us.
Around us. Like a warm blanket coiling tighter, drawing us together.
My heartbeat accelerates. I shouldn’t want to pepper a kiss at the corner of his mouth, soak in the scent of him, feel the softness of his dress shirt beneath my fingertips.
But I do.
Get it together, Katherine.
“In the best possible ways.”
I shake my head and press my fingers against the ache between my eyes. “I’m so confused.”
“I was, too. But I’m not anymore.”
“Really?” I don’t know why hearing that admission brings my walls down a bit. Probably because, since I’ve known him, he’s seemed brilliant and sure of every decision he’s made. Every idea that rolls off his tongue has been brain-powered and dissected. Even the ideas I didn’t agree with.
“Yeah.”
“We weren’t a mistake, Katherine. The night of the auction—”
I blink up at him, heart in my throat, waiting, mentally crossing my fingers. For what? That he gets this right? I’m not even sure what ‘this’ is. Answers? An apology? He’s already apologized.
“The days after, every day since… none of it has been a mistake.”
“I’m going to disagree with you there. I could have done without the whole kidnapping part.”
He sucks in a sharp breath. “That morning…”
My brows lift ever so slightly as I wait for him to continue. He apologized on the boat, but…
“I wish I had kept my head.”
I wish he had too. In that moment, I knew what was going on in his mind. How could I not? And I’d been willing to let him say his peace and get it off his chest.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
“I was willing to fight for you.”
The words soak in, and his chin comes up.
“Was?”
How can a single word hold so much hope and so much fear at the same time? And why do I feel the weight of it like a sandbag around my shoulders?
Lifting my right hand, I press it to his chest. His heart thuds against my fingertips, and he takes a speedy step back, shaking his head. “No touching—”
“Wha—”
“I told myself no touching until I earn your trust again.”
He backs all the way to the wall, leans against it, and shoves his hands in his pockets as if he needs to be shackled to stay away from me. That and the way he looks like he’s about to come apart at the seams are rather flattering.
The cool tech tycoon mask is gone now, and there’s a jerkiness to his movements that wasn’t there earlier. And now that he’s drawn a line in the sand, the perverse part of me wants to cross it. Wants to feel him against me, around me, beneath me.
“You said ‘was,’” he prods.
“I knew what you were thinking. At least, I assumed I did. That I was a liar like my grandfather. But I didn’t think anything I could say would change the story in your head. And, well, the longer it went, I figured you’d sort yourself out if I just stayed quiet.”
“You were right. By the time I stopped running, my brain was clear, and I was kicking myself when King found me.”
It’s nice to know I wasn’t totally off base. Nodding, I say, “I should have said something.” Anything. Who doesn’t protest their own innocence? Me, apparently.
“And not let me get away with my shit?” He gives me that dazzling, devilish smirk that makes my stomach swoop.
“I don’t think you were in a position to hear me.”
He looks away. “How’d you get to be so smart?”
“I pay attention.”
He skewers me again with those soulful eyes, and I feel him trying. Trying to connect and overcome, do better and be better. For me. For us.
But there’s still a part of me that wants to walk away and take a breather. To make sure that this isn’t about staying in the circle.
He can be with King, separate from me. I’m not going to stop them. The heart demands what it demands.
“You really do, don’t you?” Then he shakes his head. “Alex doesn’t want me anywhere near you and—”
“He said that? When?”
“At your dad’s place. The night we got into it. And he’s right. I know I need to earn your trust again.”
Well, that makes my knees give out. I lean more heavily against the conference table, all the signs in my body pointing to the fact that I’m losing the battle to stay detached. Apparently, my lady bits have no desire to protect my heart.
“So I’m telling you that I know I fucked up.
” He advances again. Two steps. Two steps that make it feel like we’re dancing.
A gorgeous, choreographed historical number with big skirts and delicate footwork.
The barest of touches of a gloved hand. The swell of anticipation.
“I fucked up when I held what your grandfather did against you. You’re your own person—”
“And I deserve the chance to make my own mistakes.”
He smiles, and cute crinkles form at the corners of his eyes. “I like that. I’ve already made several. The guilt’s been eating me alive.”
That wipes away all the lovey-dovey romanticism from my eyes. “Guilt?”
He nods and takes another measured step. “It started the instant King and I watched you disappear into that SUV and be torn away from us.”
“You didn’t have me kidnapped.”
“No. Never. But I put it all into motion.”
“I don’t follow.”
“If I hadn’t been so hell-bent on buying out Cort, your mother never would have gone off the deep end.”
“Oh, Gabe…”
He won’t look at me now. Instead, he glares a hole through the carpet between our feet.
“I saw an opportunity, and I took it.” He rolls his shoulders, not in a defensive way, but like he’s trying to get comfortable with his truth. “I thought it would make something in me whole. Fix something or heal something.”
“Did it work?”
He lifts tortured eyes, jaw tight. “Not even a little bit.”