Chapter 12 Alice
CHAPTER TWELVE
ALICE
It’s crazy how fast life can get flipped upside down and inside out—in a good way.
A month ago, if you’d asked me what I’d be doing on a random Thursday morning, I’d have said, “Same old, same old routine. Go to work, come home, eat alone, and watch TV alone. Get up the next day to do it all over again.” Now?
I wake up in a king-sized bed with the world’s hottest man wrapped around me like a weighted blanket, and if I’m very lucky, he wakes me up with some inventive combination of his mouth and his hands before our alarm even goes off.
My alarm buzzes at six-thirty, and I groan, trying to burrow deeper into the crook of Gabe’s arm.
He’s always awake before me, even on days when we stay up way too late watching trash TV or doing things that are much better than watching reality TV.
He’s lying there, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling with a look that is somehow both intense and completely at peace.
I wiggle closer, press my nose to his chest, and inhale that perfect blend of aftershave, laundry detergent, and something that is just pure Gabe.
“Good morning,” he rumbles, not moving, but his arms tighten just a little.
“Morning,” I mumble with my voice muffled against his skin. “Why didn’t you go for your run this morning?”
Three or four days a week, he gets up at the ass crack of dawn to run five miles with his security crew. Personally, I think he does it just to torture them, but I keep my theory to myself.
“You were wrapped around me like a fucking anaconda.” He smirks down at me. “I didn’t want to move and wake you up.” Melted. Right there on the spot.
“That was very considerate of you, Mr. Mercer.” My hand drifts down under the covers to cup his rapidly hardening cock. Just because I can.
Gabe groans and rolls on top of me, pinning my arms above my head.
“Considerate is my middle name.” He winks at me.
When I roll my eyes, he tickles me until I squirm and pretend to fight him off, but he always wins.
Always. And the way he looks down at me—like he can’t decide whether to devour me or worship me—makes my heart do stupid things every single day.
Eventually, we make it out of bed, mostly because we don’t want to be late for work. We have a morning routine that we rush through most days because we “hit” our version of snooze way too many times.
Every morning, Gabe drives us to work instead of using the limo because I asked him to. Each day, he helps me into the big black SUV while his security crew gets into another SUV and follows us to The Mercer Group.
Gabe parks at the curb a block away from the office and lets me get out so our coworkers don’t see me getting out of his vehicle. Of course, one of his bodyguards also hops out and follows close behind me. I’ve kinda gotten used to my mostly invisible shadow, but the situation still feels crazy.
The days go by in a blur. I bury myself in admin work and spreadsheets and endless meetings, but it’s not the same as it used to be. The highlight of every day is getting a text from Gabe reminding me it’s time to escape for the day.
After work, we head home together. Sometimes we pick up takeout, and sometimes we cook together in his absurdly fancy kitchen.
I never realized how sexy chopping vegetables could be until I watched Gabe Mercer manhandle a chef’s knife and then feed me slivers of red bell pepper straight from the cutting board.
Most nights, we eat dinner in front of the giant TV, sprawled on his couch with our legs tangled together.
He makes fun of my obsession with reality TV, but I catch him getting weirdly invested in the shows.
When he glances down at me, runs his fingers through my hair, and kisses the top of my head like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him, I thank my lucky stars for the day I spilled my coffee all over him.
Weekends are my favorite. Saturdays are for sleeping in. Gabe plays on his phone or just stares at the ceiling while I cuddle up next to him until I’m ready to get out of bed.
On Sunday mornings, he’s up before the sun, going for his run, making coffee, and reading business news on his phone, while I slowly wake up by drinking coffee from Gobble Me Up and preparing myself for the day ahead.
We do laundry together. We go grocery shopping and come back to his apartment to meal prep for the week. It’s all so normal and routine.
By the time Sunday night rolls around, I’m already dreading Monday—not because I hate my job, but because every weekend brings me a little closer to something terrifying and wonderful.
I’m so in love with Gabe that I barely know what to do with myself.
The only problem is, I have no idea how to tell him.
It’s a dumb fear. If I’m being honest, Gabe is the most all-in, go-big-or-go-home man I’ve ever met.
When he wants something, he doesn’t just go after it—he devours it.
He’s already woven me into every part of his life.
My toothbrush is in his bathroom. My favorite brand of yogurt is in his fridge.
There’s a copy of my apartment key on his key ring, even though I only go back to my own place to grab clothes for the week and to water the half-dead succulent on my windowsill.
Still, I hesitate. Not because I don’t want to move in with him, but because I’m a big ol’ chicken.
I want him to make the first big move.
So, I wait.
And in the meantime, I live for the little moments.
After a month, it’s like my old life never existed. Gabe is my home base now. I don’t know how I ever managed without him.
One night, we’re making dinner together.
I’m at the stove, stirring risotto, and Gabe is hovering behind me, arms wrapped around my waist. He keeps nuzzling the back of my neck, distracting me so badly that I keep forgetting to stir.
The risotto is on the verge of burning, but I can’t bring myself to care.
“Smells good,” he says, voice low in my ear.
“I’m trying to cook, you know.” I giggle, leaning back into him. “Don’t you have some billion-dollar merger to worry about?”
“Later,” he murmurs, kissing the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. “This is more important.”
I try to play it cool, but I’m melting. Every single time.
“You’re going to make me burn dinner,” I protest, but I let him lift me onto the counter anyway.
He crowds in close, so tall and broad that he blocks out everything but the heat of his body and the look in his eyes. “Let it burn. That’s what pizza delivery is for,” he says, and then he kisses me, slow and deep, like he’s got all the time in the world.
We don’t even make it to the bedroom that night. We wind up on the kitchen counter while my dinner sits forgotten on the stove.
This is what my life is now. And I want it. I want all of it, forever.
Later, after we clean up, he gives me the world’s best back massage on the couch while we watch Below Deck. I lie there with my head in Gabe’s lap, staring at nothing and trying to figure out how to ask for more.
He runs his fingers through my hair, slow and gentle, and I swear I can feel him thinking. He’s quieter than usual tonight, like he’s got something on his mind. I want to ask, but I’m scared to break the spell.
Instead, I stretch, press my cheek to his thigh, and mumble, “You know, I could get used to this.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just keeps stroking my hair, almost like he’s memorizing everything.
“You’d better,” he says finally, voice so soft I almost don’t hear it. “I’m never letting you go.”
“Good, because here with you is where I want to be.” The “L” word sticks on my tongue for a second, and I take a deep breath, ready to tell him, when he pulls me up into his lap and beats me to the punch.
“I love you.” He stares into my eyes. “I’ve loved you from the first moment you spilled coffee down the front of me.”
“I love you, too.” The words roll off my tongue. It’s like the world pauses. He just stares at me, eyes so dark and intense my knees actually go weak, and I have to fight the urge to burst into happy tears like a total lunatic.
Instead, I do the only thing that makes sense—I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him as hard as I can. He hauls me onto his lap like I weigh nothing, hands gripping my hips, and crushes his mouth to mine. I could kiss this man forever and never get tired of it.
Gabe finally pulls back, breathing hard, his forehead resting against mine. “You’re my everything, Alice. You know that, right?”
I nod, grinning like an idiot. “I’m obsessed with you, in case it wasn’t obvious. I’m ready to discuss cohabitation now.”
He lets out a low, dangerous laugh. “There’s nothing to discuss. You’re here with me, and I’m never letting you go.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
“So, do you want a big fancy wedding or a small courthouse ceremony?” he asks like he’s asking what I want for breakfast.
“Uh…” I lean back and stare at him. “I think you skipped a step here.”
“Oh. Right.” He sets me back on the sofa and walks out of the room.
What? I wonder what in the world is happening when he comes strolling back in.
He drops to his knees in front of me and takes my hand in his.
“I’m crazy about you. In fact, I can’t fucking live without you.
” He slides a stunning diamond ring on my finger. “Alice. Will you marry me?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Gabe blinks at me, like he can’t quite process what I just said. Then he bursts out laughing and pulls me off the sofa, straight into his arms. “You just have to push my buttons, don’t you?”
“What can I say? Pushing your buttons is the highlight of my day,” I tease, grinning at him because I can’t help myself. He’s still kneeling in front of me, but the look in his eyes is so achingly real I almost lose my nerve and start crying.
No way I’m going to ruin this moment by bawling like a baby.
I clear my throat and go for it. “I absolutely want to marry you. More than anything in the world.”
He doesn't hesitate for even a second. "Thank God," he breathes, his voice rough with emotion, and his eyes gleaming like polished amber. "I was thinking I'd have to kidnap you and hide you away on some private island until you changed your mind."
"Hold up." I sit back, shaking my head, feeling the weight of the diamond catching the soft lamplight as my hand moves. "Was the private island thing really an option?"
"For the honeymoon." He smirks at me, that devastatingly handsome half-smile that always makes my stomach flutter like I've got a thousand butterflies in there. His thumb traces slow circles on my palm, sending tingles up my arm.
That definitely sounds like a plan to me.