27. Alexis
Alexis
Inside the warehouse, a film crew for FlashUp is already present, setting up their equipment. They’re here to shoot some footage for the app, document the process of setup so that viewers will feel connected to the project.
I was nervous about Gabriel’s idea at first, but I’ve gotten used to the cameras and even started to see the value in letting people into the process.
The docket is full today. I have a few meetings lined up with some local designers, smaller artists whose work hasn’t been picked up by a big company yet.
The talent search has been my favorite part of the project so far, meeting people brimming with raw creativity, fresh out of fashion school and not yet disillusioned with the industry.
For once in my life, the work I’m doing feels exciting, impactful. I can only hope that Noelle would be proud of me.
My sister’s shadow looms over so many parts of my life, but for the first time, I don’t feel crushed beneath its weight. Instead, I feel… grounded. Sure of myself.
Toward the end of the day, my phone vibrates with a text from Gabriel.
GAbrIEL: Hey. I gave Margaret the evening off and I’m leaving work early to pick Peyton up from school. You want us to come pick you up too?
A smile creeps across my face as I read, and my heart races a little at the thought of seeing him earlier than I anticipated. I’ve been trying to keep my head on straight, but it’s been hard not to get too attached to Gabriel.
Appreciate this for what it is, I tell myself. It’s amazing, and it’s not going to last forever. Just enjoy it while you can.
I fire back a text.
ME: Sure, that sounds great.
Half an hour later, Gabriel pulls up out front in his four-door Maserati. Peyton is in the back, buckled into her car seat.
“Hi, Alexis!” she calls as I approach the car. She’s beaming from ear to ear.
“Hey, Peyton,” I reply, smiling as I slide into the passenger seat. “What’s got you so excited?”
“Daddy says we’re going to the bookstore today.”
“Oh?” I turn to Gabriel, who smiles serenely as he pulls away from the curb, his eyes fixed on the road. “Is that so?”
“I thought we’d drop in,” Gabriel says. “After all, I just finished the book I was reading.” He shoots me a wink, and I grin.
I can’t believe he actually read that whole romance cover to cover.
“So I need another one. Thought you might need a book haul too, since you go through multiple of those things in a week.”
I laugh. “Okay, that’s an exaggeration.”
“I don’t know about that.” He shrugs one shoulder, his eyes glimmering with amusement.
Gabriel takes us across town to a charming bookstore with an attached cafe. Its large bay windows are adorned with displays of hardcover novels, each propped up with tiny chalkboard signs that list handwritten staff recommendations. Twinkling fairy lights are strung around the frames.
The sign above the door reads Between the Pages, and as we step inside, the scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries mingles with that distinct, comforting smell of books.
Peyton immediately tugs on my hand. “Can we go to the kids’ section first?”
“Of course,” I say, letting her lead the way. Gabriel follows, a quiet smile on his face and his hands tucked into his pockets.
The kids’ section is tucked into a cozy corner of the store, complete with colorful beanbag chairs and a spinning rack full of hand puppets. Peyton sits cross-legged in front of the shelves, a pensive look on her face.
“You looking for something in particular?” I ask her, crouching down to her level.
“I need a book about kittens,” she says solemnly. Behind us, Gabriel lets out a sigh.
“What kind of book about kittens? A story, or—”
“Something that will tell me how to take care of them.”
I shoot Gabriel a grin over my shoulder, then turn my attention back to Peyton. “Ah, I see,” I say, nodding thoughtfully. “Well, we’d better check the nonfiction section.”
It doesn’t take long to find books about cats for Peyton. She grabs a stack of three, and buries her nose in one of them as we wander out of the kids’ section.
“Get as many as you want,” Gabriel says to me as we enter the danger zone—the romance shelves. “Seriously. Don’t hold back.”
“You might regret that,” I say ruefully. “I have a problem.”
He shrugs, smirking. “Well, there’s plenty of room in the trunk.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I scan the shelves, pulling down books one by one as I skim the titles. Gabriel joins me, hovering at my shoulder to read the blurbs on the back covers.
“You should recommend one for me,” he says. “I won’t read as fast as you do, but I finished the Chelsea Norris book, so I need a new one.”
“You liked it?”
“Sure,” he says. “I see the appeal.”
I give him a sly smile. “You see the appeal, huh? What does that mean?”
Gabriel shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “The writing was solid, the characters were interesting… and I suppose the steamy scenes weren’t half bad either.”
I laugh, nudging him lightly with my elbow. “Admit it, you were hooked.”
“Maybe I was,” he concedes, smirking. “But if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it.”
“Oh, your secret’s safe with me. But now the pressure’s on. I have to find you a follow-up that’s just as good.”
He hums thoughtfully, stepping closer to the shelf. “What about this one? I like the cover.” He picks up a book with a bold, eye-catching cover featuring a couple walking along a beach rendered in watercolor.
I glance at it, then shake my head. “I don’t know. If you liked The Fire Between Us, you might want something with a little more drama. That author tends to write fluffier stuff.”
“I can handle fluffy,” he objects. “I want to broaden my horizons.”
I tilt my head, considering. “Okay, fair enough. But if you’re going to read that, you have to balance it out with something angsty.”
“Angsty, huh?”
Reaching up to the shelf above his shoulder, I grab a book with a striking cover that shows dark clouds swirling over a castle turret. “Here. Into the Storm. This was one of my favorites from last year. Think The Fire Between Us, but with even more emotional stakes.”
Gabriel takes the book from me, flipping it over to read the back. He whistles, shaking his head. “A countess, haunted by the ghost of the man whose death she ordered—okay, that’s dark.”
“It’s really good,” I promise. I glance over my shoulder to make sure Peyton isn’t within earshot, then add in an undertone, “There’s ghost sex.”
“Ghost sex,” he repeats, his eyebrows lifting as he gives me a dubious look. “Is that… like, a genre staple?”
“Not generally. But I swear, it’s done really well.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” He adds the book to his stack. “Anything else I should grab?”
“If you can find anything by her, my all-time favorite author is Lila Hart,” I say, scanning the shelves for a familiar spine. “Her stuff will just… wreck you.”
“And that’s a good thing?”
“Oh, you’re new here,” I say affectionately, patting his arm. “Yes. It’s a good thing.”
Eventually, I spot the book I was looking for. The Art of Falling. I pull it off the shelf with a triumphant grin. “Here it is. If you’re going to read Lila Hart, this is the one to start with.”
“That’s a long book,” Gabriel says, hefting it and glancing at the back cover.
“Yeah, she gets pretty wordy. But I promise, by the time you’re on chapter three, you won’t even notice. You’ll wish it was longer.”
Gabriel flips open the front cover and hums in surprise. “Oh, hey. Will you look at that?” He flips the book around to show me the title page, adorned with a signature in black ink. “Signed copy.”
I gasp, reaching out to touch the page like it’s made of gold leaf. “Are you serious? Oh, my god. A signed Lila Hart?”
He grins, seeming to enjoy my excitement. “Is that rare?”
“Pretty rare,” I say eagerly. “I don’t have one.”
“You do now, sunshine.” He tucks the book into his stack. “And I can’t wait to read it.”
By the time Gabriel heads to the register, he’s laden down with at least ten novels, not including the three cat books Peyton carries as she follows in his wake. I hang back, perusing the shelves a little longer as Gabriel checks out.
I slowly wander around a display table, reading the blurbs on the backs of the debut novels gathered there. I’m broken out of my reverie by someone tapping me on the shoulder.
“Alexis! Hey! Long time no see.”
My heart drops instantly as I recognize the voice. It’s Travis.
I stiffen, my body tensing instinctively. Right now, he’s possibly the last person I want to see.
I turn slowly, forcing a smile as I face him. Travis stands there a few feet away, looking exactly the same as he always does: polished, confident, and with that too-perfect smile that makes me feel uneasy. I’ve never been able to trust it.
“Travis,” I say, keeping my tone cool, trying to sound politely disinterested. “Hi. What are you doing here?”
“A little gift shopping,” he tells me, stepping closer to the display table, closer to me.
He makes a face, as if gift shopping is the worst thing in the world and everyone knows it.
Then the grin slips back into place. “I take it you’re here for personal reasons, eh? Always knew you were a big reader.”
“Um… yeah,” I say, tentatively shifting away from him.
Travis notices it, his gaze trailing my movement, although he doesn’t seem to care much. He steps closer anyway, as if to assert his place in the conversation. He chuckles lightly, like his intrusion on my personal space is somehow funny.
“You like those romance novels, right? The steamy ones.”
I hum in response, not wanting to get dragged into a conversation. I want to make this as brief as possible.
“Yeah, I remember now,” he says. “I always wondered if that meant anything about how you’d be in bed. Like, you read so much smut, you must be a total freak, right?”
I gape in shock, feeling my blood run cold at his words. My first instinct is to turn and walk away, but I’m frozen to the spot, unable to move. “Th-that’s n-not—”
“Oh, lighten up,” he tells me. “It’s a joke.”
Before I can respond, I feel a sudden shift at my side.
It’s Gabriel, holding a thick paper bag filled with the books he just purchased.
His presence is an immediate comfort, and instinctively, I press myself closer to him as his sharp eyes scan Travis, then drop to look me over as if reading the situation.
He seems to understand what’s happening at once.
“You need to back off.” There’s nothing friendly in Gabriel’s voice. His posture is intimidating, his body language radiating authority, and there’s no mistaking the warning in his tone.
Travis doesn’t seem fazed at first, his smile still present, but there’s a flicker of something darker in his eyes. “What’s the matter? You don’t want to let Alexis have a little fun with an old friend?”
Gabriel’s jaw tightens. “Whatever this was, it didn’t seem like she was having much fun.”
I’m frozen, torn between gratitude and unease as Travis’s smirk falters, his mask of charm slipping just enough to reveal the frustration beneath. A scowl twists his features. It looks more natural on his face than the plastic smile he usually wears.
“Wow,” he sneers. “Real knight in shining armor, aren’t you? Is this part of your arrangement too? She gets a fucking bodyguard?”
Gabriel’s hand rests on my side. “Seriously. I’m not going to say it again. Back. Off.”
Travis’s gaze drops to me, and I press closer to Gabriel.
Then he huffs and turns on his heel, his shoulders stiff with barely suppressed anger.
He stalks away, disappearing into the bookstore’s tight corners and high shelves.
As soon as he’s gone, I breathe out, trying to loosen the uncomfortable constricted feeling in my chest.
Gabriel watches him go, his hand staying firm at my side until Travis turns the corner. Only then does he glance down at me, his brows drawing together. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice quieter now as Peyton steps up beside us, her nose still buried in one of her new books.
I nod. “I—I think so.” I look up, meeting his gaze. “Thank you.”
“Of course. You don’t have to thank me. You shouldn’t have to deal with someone like that.” His gray eyes shift in the direction Travis disappeared, and his brow furrows, a shadow flitting across his face. “That asshole needs to get it through his head.”
“What?”
Gabriel’s arm pulls me closer, tighter. Firm, but not harsh. “You’re mine,” he says simply, the words low and deliberate. A shiver goes through my body at the possessive edge in his voice.
You’re mine.
The implication is clear, undeniable. It’s a declaration. A claim.