But he’s not mine.
And he never will be.
Chapter Sixteen
Gabriel
I stand in the doorway of Mackenzie’s office for a moment, taking the opportunity to watch her unobserved. Her head is bent down low, the ends of her curls brushing her planner she’s hurriedly writing in. She glances at something on her computer screen and back down, hard at work.
My eyes travel south over the emerald green dress she’s wearing today, already missing the one with the front tie closure from last night. When she’d revealed what was underneath, I’d just about lost my mind.
“Gabriel.”
My gaze pops up, not that I’m too sorry she caught me blatantly staring at her. She knows how I feel about her.
And where my mind is after last night.
“Hey,” is all I’m able to manage, getting caught up in the way her dress brings out the green in her hazel eyes, the soft flush on her cheeks. Her expression is slightly unsure, as if she’s worried about how we parted. Sure, I hate this situation we’re in, but I understand where she’s coming from. I don’t have a problem with the “ethics” as much as she does, but that’s because I’ve never considered Serena to truly be my fiancee. This is a business arrangement, nothing more.
Even if I have to sign a marriage certificate.
“What brings you by?” She closes her planner, her fingers flicking the front corner of it. Those same fingers that touched herself.
I cross my arms over my chest, leaning against the doorframe. I need to get my head in the game and stop remembering the hottest night in memory. “You want to go out for lunch? I was in the area.”
She bites her lip, trying to hide a smile from me. “You were?”
“Yeah.” I can’t help the wide grin that spreads over my face. “I mean, my schedule is pretty packed, but I figured I could squeeze you in.”
She leans back in her chair, a burst of pride going through me at how comfortable she looks in it, how well it suits her office. And her.
“And what does this busy day of yours consist of exactly?”
“Oh, you know. Disappointing Dad mostly. Maybe annoying Archer. And then between all that, thinking about you.” Her eyes flick behind me, but I made sure her friend was on the other side of the shop before I said it. “So will you join me for lunch?”
“Well, I am hungry.” She stands, her dress riding high on her legs for a moment before she pulls down the hem, and grabs her purse. Her gardenia scent teases me as she brushes past me on her way out, the shy smile she gives me over her shoulder revving me up.
“Are we taking your car?”
Her and me alone together in the car? Probably not a good idea. “It’s close enough to walk.”
I stick my hands in my pockets so I’m not tempted to reach out and hold her hand, her waist, any place she’d let me touch her, as we start down the sidewalk side by side.
Except she’s not letting me touch her. She made that pretty clear last night. And honestly, it’s for the best. Once my hands are on her, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.
“So what do we have left to do?”
She sidesteps a slow walker, hitching her bag up higher on her shoulder, and replies, “There’s actually not really anything.”
“Seriously? It’s all done?”
“For now. In the days right before, I’ll need to confirm with all the vendors again, but yeah, we checked off everything on our list.”
Great. What excuse can I use to come see her now? I can only ask her out to lunch so many times. “Do you, uh, need help with something else?”
She glances over at me, amusement playing around her pink lips. “Are you bored?”
“Maybe,” I admit, shrugging. “And I like helping with your stuff.”
“Should I hire you as my assistant?” she laughs. “Will you work for minimum wage?”
“I’ll work for free for you.” The words come out more serious than I intended, but she must take my whole offer as a joke, merely smiling.
We walk another block, stopping at the corner in front of the nondescript New York Pizza.
“New York Pizza?” She eyes the place skeptically. “This is where billionaires eat?”
I hold open the door, motioning her inside to the black and white checkered tile floor. “They’ve got the biggest, greasiest slices here. The lunch of champions.”
She tries to order a salad, but I nix that idea right away. “Trust me. Once I’m eating mine, you’ll want some. So you might as well get your own from the beginning.”
She rolls her eyes good-naturedly but agrees, and as we sit down at a rickety aluminum table in the corner with our slices, she moans aloud at the first bite. “Holy crap, this is good.”
“Told you.” I chew my own piece, the cheese hot and melty, pairing perfectly with the sweet tomato sauce.
“Where’d you find this place?” She grabs napkins out of the dispenser to wipe at the grease already covering her fingers.
“I was wandering around one day after meeting at your office and happened upon it.”
“I’m surprised you’d like somewhere like this.”
“What? Because I’m rich, I can’t eat cheap food?”
Her lips curve up. “You could dine on caviar for every meal.”
“Too salty.”
She gives a full smile, the sight of it easing something inside me.
“And besides the good food,” I continue, “they don’t know who I am. It’s a win-win.”
She takes another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Do you hate it when you’re recognized out in public?”
I wipe at my mouth, considering her question. “Sometimes it’s okay. Like when I get special treatment.”
“You’re awful,” she grins broadly, playfully smacking my arm from across the table.
“Just being honest,” I shrug. “But when it’s people whispering right out of range or cameras and phones being raised in my direction, it’s not so hot then. It’s better to be anonymous.”
“What was it like growing up in the spotlight?”
I finish my first slice and start in on my second. “Dad didn’t really hit it big till I was… I don’t know, eleven? Twelve? And I never fully understood what a major figure he was until I got put in prep school.”
“Did the kids there give you a hard time or something?”
“Nah. They were all in the same boat as me. Absurdly wealthy or celebrity parents. Redmond Prep only takes the best of the best,” I mock, recalling their stupid school motto. “Or rather, the richest of the rich.”
“You should’ve told my mom about all the celebrities’ children you went to school with.”
“You seemed annoyed enough as it was with her fawning over me.” That night at dinner, every time her mom had asked about someone famous, Mackenzie’s nose had wrinkled. I don’t think she was even aware she was doing it, but I couldn’t stop looking at her, waiting for the next time it happened.
“I wasn’t annoyed. More… frustrated with certain things.”
“Like?” I roll my hand in a give me more gesture.
She sighs, tearing off a piece of crust from her pizza to pop in her mouth. “Now don’t get me wrong, that night was amazing. But it had this whole boyfriend meeting my parents for the first time vibe that left me a little off center.”
I lean back in the cheap folding chair, rubbing a hand over my jaw. Had I overstepped my boundaries that much? “I didn’t mean-”
“No, I wanted it to be that kind of night. That was the problem.”
The easygoing camaraderie that’s surrounded us so far today shifts, tension filling the air.
“Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?” I finally ask when I can’t stand the silence any longer.
“You mean last night?”
“Yeah.”
A hint of pink touches her cheeks as she glances down at her nearly finished plate. “What do you want me to say?”
&
nbsp; I reach my hand across the table, tilting her chin up to look at me. “I hope you’re not embarrassed for one.”
“No,” she quickly assures me before pausing. “Okay, maybe a little. I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“Got yourself off in front of a guy?”
She peeks around, although there’s no one close enough to eavesdrop. “No.”
“I thought it was incredibly hot.” Her face heats further, but I swear it’s not my intention to discomfit her. “Hey. You never have to feel ashamed about what we do together. Or guilty,” I add when she opens her mouth to interrupt.
She gives a small smile at being caught out.
“And I was serious about when we can do it again. Even if it’s something not as…” Hot. Explosive. Mind-blowing. “Intense.”
“It did get pretty intense, didn’t it? I swear, I only meant for the flirting thing to be light-hearted.”
I stare at her hands, crumpling her napkin over and over, wishing I could reach out and take them in my own, soothing her. “I think we just can’t help but be intense. Our chemistry’s too strong.”
She bites her lip, nodding in agreement. “From anyone else, I’d say that’s a line, but you’re right.”
Warmth spreads through me hearing her admit that. Something unlocked between us the other day at that birthday party, freer with our words than ever before.
She takes the last bite of her pizza, a glob of sauce dotting the corner of her mouth.
“You’ve got-” I motion to the area on her face, but she seems to have a knack for missing it every time she tries to wipe it away. “Here.” I reach across the table and thumb away the sauce, cupping her chin slightly for just a moment.
“Are you going to do that every time I get food on my face?”
“You’re a messy eater,” I shrug. “And I’d kiss it away if I could.”
She glances down, a wide smile spreading over her face she can’t hide. I don’t think she realizes how much I ache to kiss her again, how hard it was last night resisting touching her. That primitive urge to make her mine beats steadily within me, a constant presence I’ve been unable to shake over the last few weeks as we’ve become closer.
But I can’t. She outright asked me not to.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out, Vivian’s name up on the screen. That can only mean one thing - Dad wants to see me.
I open the text and sure enough, Dad is requesting a meeting with me ASAP. Apparently, his schedule is only open for the next thirty minutes.
I text Davis asking him to come pick me up and stand, gathering our plates and napkins. “I have to go. Dad’s summoning me.”
She nods, understanding on her face. “Better not be late then.”
Twenty minutes later I’m outside Dad’s office, releasing a deep breath before opening the double doors, his blue gaze piercing even from across the room.
“How many times am I going to pull you in here?” he barks.
“Hi, Dad. It’s great to see you too.” I bare my teeth at him in a poor imitation of a smile as I sprawl into the visitor’s chair, the hard back digging into me uncomfortably.
He turns his computer monitor toward me, photos of me and Mackenzie up on the screen. What the-
“Care to explain?”
A montage of me and her out and about in the city fills the display. Holding the door open for her as we left one of the wedding venues we didn’t choose, exiting the town car as we went to meet the minister who’ll officiate the ceremony, even one from barely an hour ago as we were walking to get pizza.
Does someone have a P.I. on me or something? Or are the paparazzi just that desperate for material?
I reach over his desk and grab the mouse, scrolling up on the page, the headline reading, Could this mean the end of Bishop and Montague?
I glance up to find the URL on The Manhattan Herald’s website. Well, no wonder. I swear to God, someone on their staff must have it out for me there.
The brief paragraph below is pure speculation and tabloid fodder.
We have little to no photographic evidence of the heirs to two tech fortunes as a couple, but Gabriel seems to find plenty of time to spend with his new lady friend.
“How the hell do they even call themselves journalists?” I ask aloud. “They’re hellbent on destroying me.”
“You’ve done that just fine on your own.” He swings the monitor back toward him, that vein in his forehead making its appearance. “I wanted you photographed with your fiancee, not the wedding planner.”
“I’m doing what you told me to. I’ve been working with her planning this wedding every step of the way. You have proof right there.”
“What I have here is you looking at her like you want to fuck her.”
I mean, yeah, I’m smiling at her in a few of the photos. And yeah, I do want to fuck her. But he shouldn’t be able to infer one from the other.
“So you threaten me if I don’t take this seriously, and then when I do, I still get lectured?” I ask, ignoring his comment.
“Ms. Sweet is the help. Don’t forget it.”
My blood boils, but I keep my face expressionless. “People are more than just their professions.”
His gaze burns brighter. “Are you only saying that because you don’t have one?”
Low blow, Dad.
“I’m not in the wrong here. Serena was a few feet ahead of us in one of those photos, right out of frame. They’re spinning this how they want.”
“Then wipe that infatuated look off your face next time you meet with her.” He turns the computer monitor back toward him, giving me a level gaze. “It’d be a real shame if no one were to hire her again because they thought she was messing around with you.”
My heart stills. Is he threatening her?
I draw on every past instance of pretending his words don’t affect me. Otherwise I might reach over this massive desk and throttle him. If he senses the slightest hint there’s something real between us… I don’t know what he’s capable of doing. I can’t deny what my face is like in those photos, but at least I can set the record straight.
“Mackenzie’s job is her number one priority. She’s a model of professionalism and-” I swallow, this next part hard to admit, even if it is the truth. “And she’s made it very clear she’s not interested in risking that for a relationship with me.”
He studies my face, but at this point, I have no idea what’s on it. He must see my sincerity, though, because he finally nods. “Don’t fuck this up, Gabriel. Montague can still pull the plug if he wants on this buyout. It doesn’t go into effect until after you’re married.”
I stand, making my way towards the door. “Message received.”
Now it’s just a matter of listening to it.
Chapter Seventeen
Mackenzie
“Hi, honey.”
“Hey, Mom.” I balance my phone between my ear and shoulder as I continue typing up this invoice for Danielle I never finished earlier.
“Well, your dad and I are finally back in our normal routine after our little jaunt out to see you the other week.”
“That’s good.” I suspect Danielle will try to haggle with me about this, but there’s no way I’m letting her get away with not paying for all the extra work we did for her.
“We just had the best time, especially when Gabriel got us those Broadway tickets.”
Wait. He never told me he did that for them. I thought they bought those themselves the night after we all had dinner together.
“And that Chez Alexandre’s,” she gushes, enunciating the silent z in chez. I cringe at her butchering of the French language. “So fancy. Maybe Gabriel can set you up with one of his friends.”
Ugh, here we go with setting me up with someone. “Yeah, maybe,” I mutter, hitting send on the invoice.
“You haven’t met anyone, have you?”
It’s the neverending question, asked at least every other phone call, and
one of the main reasons I don’t contact her as often as I should.
“I-” I automatically start to say no, then blurt out, “I kind of have.”
I still can’t get last night out of my head. How in sync we were, how connected I felt to him. He was right when he said it was incredibly hot - and we didn’t even touch each other. If it’s that good with our clothes on… No, no. I shouldn’t think like that. But how can I not revel in the memories?
And then today’s conversation at lunch proved again how easy, how natural it is to be around him…
“That’s wonderful,” Mom practically shrieks in my ear. My phone drops to my desk at the loud noise and I cautiously pick it back up once the screeching ceases.
“No, wait. Don’t get too excited. It’s… complicated.”
“Okay,” she says, her voice returning to a normal pitch. “But tell me about him.”
I shrug helplessly, knowing she can’t see me, and swivel my chair toward the outside window, the one with the decal on it Gabriel got for me. “He’s charming, kind, handsome.”
“Like a Disney prince?” she laughs.
A little dirtier than anything I’ve seen from Disney, but I keep that to myself. “Yeah, but he has some family issues he’s dealing with. I don’t think-” I take a deep breath at the sudden sting of tears that threatens. “Things aren’t going to work out between us.”
“Honey, I can’t remember the last time you said you were interested in someone.” I hold the phone a little closer, needing her soothing tone right now. “Fight for him if you can.”
At the cost of everything I’ve worked so hard for? No, that’s… not possible. I just received another email inquiry for a wedding planner this morning who heard about me solely because I’m planning Gabriel’s wedding. I’d burn all the bridges I carefully built by rejecting this opportunity.
“I’ll think about it, Mom.”
She happily continues chattering about our neighbors back home - who’s running for town council and a budding romance between the high school principal and local locksmith. I don’t bother reminding her I moved away eight years ago to escape all that, dissatisfied with the minutiae of small-town living, craving the hustle and bustle of a big city.
Resisting the Billionaire Page 16
