“Another gift? More chocolate?” Mitzi scuttled around to see.
“Yes, another gift. No, not chocolate,” Abbey answered in a whisper as she flipped through the pages.
“It’s an old book.”
“It’s a first edition Charlotte Bronte. Jane Eyre. My favorite book. I can’t even imagine what this cost.” She stared at the fragile words in disbelief. The other gifts were nice. She had to have mentioned that Jane Eyre was her favorite book maybe once. He was paying that much attention to what I said? Wow.
“Who keeps sending this stuff to you?” Mitzi gasped excitedly as she ran her fingers along the leather material.
Abbey paused. How do I describe Sloan? Husband? Ex-husband? Only one reasonable answer came to mind. “Just a friend.”
Barker snorted from behind them. “Your friend needs to be more careful. The cost of these gifts could pay your rent for two months. And we aren’t the only ones in this neighborhood who know that.” He gestured outside to the street.
Abbey smiled. She had no worries. She hadn’t been able to shake the black Hummer even before the gifts began arriving. However, she agreed, “You’re right, Barker. I need to put a stop to this.” Abbey gently slipped the book back in the box. Then, she tucked the box under the counter for safekeeping before picking up her ski jacket. She slipped it on, sighing at the incredible warmth it provided. Waving goodbye to Mitzi and Barker, she shut the diner door behind her as she left.
Turning in the opposite direction from her apartment, she made her way down the sidewalk, running through transit schedules in her head. The bus would pick her up at the corner shortly, taking her toward downtown. A couple of subway rides later and…
Abbey sighed. It’d be at least seven-thirty before she reached the penthouse. She’d have to make her surprise meeting with Sloan fast if she wanted to get home before it was too late.
Suddenly, she felt the sensation that she was not alone. Her head shot up in alarm. Beside her, at the curb, waited the Hummer. Gordon smiled to her from the open window.
“Hello, Abbey,” he greeted, his brogue smooth and thick.
“Hello, Gordon,” she returned.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going downtown. I have to talk to…a friend.”
The salt and pepper stubble on Gordon’s chin shadowed his wide grin. “A friend?”
“Yes.”
Gordon laughed and shook his head. “Well, you can take your buses and subways, and I’ll follow you until you reach your friend. Or…” He stepped out into the snowy street. Walking around the rear of the vehicle, he opened the back passenger door. “You can get in, and I’ll drive you to the penthouse. Since we’re both arriving at the same place in the end.”
Abbey stared at him dumbfounded. After several moments, she sheepishly climbed inside, settling into the soft leather seat as he closed the door.
»»•««
Gordon held the elevator open for Abbey as he motioned her in. He followed her inside then, turning to the control panel, pulled a key from his pants pocket. Slipping it into the keyhole, he turned and pressed the button to the penthouse. The machine lurched to life, lifting them up through the floors of the building.
Abbey wondered grimly to herself just how many people held the magical key to Sloan’s apartment. Surprising. I wonder where mine went. I mean, I was his wife. Does his current girlfriend have one? Or girlfriends as the case may be?
“So, how many nights have you been watching me?” she asked him.
“Watching over you, Abbey,” Gordon answered. “Ever since New Year’s Eve. But not just me. Sometimes it’s been Bartholomew. Robert has even taken a few shifts.”
“Oh.” The elevator shuttered to a stop and opened its doors before she could ask any more questions.
Gordon once again held the doors open then escorted her through the vestibule to the frosted glass and steel doors. He yanked one forward. Abbey took a step inside and froze.
There stood Sloan—his powerful, dark, sophisticated, sensual self. The soft lights from throughout the apartment illuminated his silhouette against the black city night and painted the walls of windows behind him. He was distracted by a conversation on his cell phone, his silky deep voice cold and calculating as he negotiated business.
Then, he turned to see who had entered his home and stopped. “I’ll call you back,” he murmured as he stared, pressing the button on the screen of his smart phone to hang up the call.
Gordon stepped past her to the edge of the foyer that met the living area. With a quick flick of the wrist, he summoned the other occupants. Within moments, Robert and Bartholomew were following him into the vestibule.
“Hello, Abbey.” Robert smiled at her darkly, pausing for a moment to stare her down before slipping from the room, closing the door behind him.
Abbey’s heart thundered in her chest. She was alone with Sloan. He betrayed her. Yet she couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was time for answers. Her stomach twisted at the thought of asking for them.
“I’m glad you’re here. I was running out of gift ideas,” Sloan crooned. “Does this visit mean you’ve accepted my offer?”
“I have some questions first.”
“Of course.” He motioned her forward.
She timidly stepped into the living area. Compared to the opulence of the space and its owner, she in her waitress uniform was certainly the thing that didn’t belong.
Taking a deep breath, she asked quietly, “Why did you lie to me?”
Sloan paused. “I couldn’t have you leave.”
“Why not?”
He didn’t answer.
“You said it wasn’t the money or the visa. Then why? Why couldn’t you let me leave?”
Sloan slowly crossed over to her. He gently caressed her cheek with his fingertips. “I needed to know if there could be something between us,” he answered softly.
Oh wow! Her knees turned to jelly. “And do you think there could be something between us?”
His mouth turned up in a sexy smile as he gazed into her warm, hazel eyes. “I’d like to think there could be.”
Oh, double wow. Abbey’s heart picked up its rapid pace. “Sloan, I’ve been wondering. Did you ever get to a lawyer? I mean, I didn’t. I didn’t have the money. Are we still…?”
She felt his breath on her face as he leaned closer to her. “Married? Aye. We’re still married. I did not get an annulment.”
“You’re still my…” Her voice failed her again.
“Husband. Aye, luv, I am.”
“And I’m still your…”
“My beautiful, wee wife.”
It was all too much—his presence, his confession, and the realization they were still married. Abbey felt the hot rush of tears as a sob caught in her throat. “I can’t, Sloan. I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”
Sloan’s lips tightened to a thin line as he took a step away from her. She felt void from just that little bit of distance. His voice was suddenly cold. “May I ask why not?”
“The second book…was on my laptop…I left…my hand written copies…in the bag. When I went…back to the shop…to get them, the…bag was gone,” Abbey stammered between heaving breaths. “The guy at the…pawn shop wiped…the drive clean. It’s gone.” Her cries quickly turned to hiccups, a trait that irritated her to no end.
She felt his warmth as he enveloped her in his arms. She looked up at him through tear-swollen eyes. His sexy smirk was back.
“Luv, it’s not gone. It’s here.” Sloan gently tapped her forehead. “And here.” He tapped her chest. “We just have to find it.”
Abbey returned his smile. His faith was reassuring.
“So,” he coaxed. “Should we try?”
Abbey silently nodded. Then she frowned. “I still owe Panda my advance. Why did Aubrey agree to this if I still owe the money?”
She didn’t think Sloan’s grin could grow wider, but it did. “Because, luv, I paid it. As soon as we retur
ned to New York from Miami I paid the fifty thousand back to them. It was returned to me a month or so later when the book sales surpassed the royalties. I hoped you would set your pride aside and come back to them when you saw the success our book had. Now, I will send Robert and Bartholomew to your apartment tomorrow to pack your things. And you will resign immediately—”
Abbey stepped back from Sloan and held up her palm to silence him. She swallowed hard to suppress her residual hiccups.
“No,” she began. “I appreciate you getting our contracts back. But it doesn’t erase the fact you lied to me. That, and Michael stealing all my money and running away with my supposed best friend—”
“He what?” Sudden fury blazed through Sloan’s face. She could feel it roll off him in waves.
“Sloan, it’s ancient history. Michael disappeared. I’ve made it on my own. I want to keep it that way. I don’t want to be dependent on anyone. I don’t want to fall like that again.”
“That neighborhood is dangerous,” he warned, his voice deep.
“It was before, and it will be when I return. I’ll be okay,” she assured. “You haven’t had your posse looking out for me the entire time I’ve lived in Brownsville, have you?”
He glared at her silently, his hands clenched on his hips.
Abbey continued, “Thank you for the offer to move into your beautiful home. But no. I’m agreeing to write a second book with you.” She took a deep breath. “Nothing more.”
She could tell by the way his eyes glanced away he understood everything she meant. There was a cold silence between them for several moments.
“Shall we start tomorrow?” Sloan proposed.
“Sure,” Abbey agreed. “I’ll take the subway and get here—”
“Nonsense,” he interrupted, irritation evident in his brogue. “Gordon will pick you up after you finish work, just as he will take you home tonight.”
There was danger in his voice. She had pushed him as far as he could go before his Irish temper reared its ugly head. It was time to concede. “Of course. Thank you.” Abbey shuffled her feet. “It’s getting late. I should be going.”
Sloan silently strode across the foyer to open the door for her. She followed. Stopping short before crossing the threshold, she looked into his eyes, seeing the storm brewing within them. She timidly touched his chest.
“Thank you for everything, Sloan. I appreciate it.” She pressed a soft kiss on his cheek before slipping out the door and walking across the vestibule to the waiting elevator.
»»•««
Three o’clock on the dot. Abbey’s shift was over, and Gordon was waiting for her across the street from the diner. She hoped he didn’t mind if she was few minutes late as she grabbed her duffle bag and the box from under the counter, hurrying into the diner restroom. She didn’t want to spend the entire night in her uncomfortable uniform.
A few minutes later, she emerged in a soft cashmere sweater and a pair of faded jeans. Quickly tugging on her jacket, she gathered her things. Then, she rushed out the door to the waiting Hummer with her customary wave goodbye.
By the smile on Gordon’s face, she could tell he didn’t care about the wait. As she approached, he held his closed hand out to her.
“Sloan forgot to give this to you last night,” he greeted. He opened his fist to reveal her elevator key.
She took it with a smile. “Thank you.”
Abbey slipped into the vehicle, sighing as she collapsed into the seat. Before long, they were dodging the busy New York City traffic, weaving between cars amidst the noise of the city. The scenery that passed by was hypnotic. She felt her eyes grow heavy.
Suddenly, she was startled awake by Gordon shaking her shoulder. She smiled sheepishly as she accepted his hand to help her out of the Hummer.
Abbey realized quickly why Gordon gave her the key as she journeyed alone through the lobby of Sloan’s building and into the elevator. She glanced back at the older gentleman, who gave her a soft smile. I’m going up alone. I have unlimited access to Sloan’s home. Pushing it into the control panel and flipping it to the side, she pressed the button for the penthouse.
She smoothed her sweater under her unzipped jacket. Then, she jammed her hands into the pockets of her jeans. She had told Sloan they were business partners and nothing more. I need to stop primping for him.
Abbey stepped into the apartment. It was empty. She slipped her ski jacket off and set it in a chair then started to look from room to room to see if anyone was home.
She halted as she noticed a laptop on the end table. Sloan must be here somewhere. He had been working in the living room. Abbey admired the laptop. It had a steel-like cover that glimmered in the lamp light of the room.
By the size of the computer, it had the largest screen on the market. She had been researching upgrading to one just like it before…well, before everything fell apart. A leather messenger bag rested against the leg of the end table.
Knowing she shouldn’t, she reached out and ran her fingers across the metal. The surface was surprisingly cool. Maybe Sloan wasn’t home. No one had used it in a while. He certainly had great taste in computers, just like he had great taste in everything else.
“It’s yours,” a voice greeted her quietly.
Abbey spun to find Sloan standing behind her. He must have been in his office. He was dressed in business attire, wearing perfectly tailored, black slacks that hung from his hips. The sleeves of his linen dress shirt were rolled to his elbows. It was unbuttoned, revealing a hint of his sculpted chest. She actually felt herself swoon.
“I can’t accept a gift like this.”
“You need a workspace, don’t you?”
“A pad and pen would suffice really. It’s a children’s book, not a New York Times Bestseller. This is overkill.”
“Abigail, I don’t comprehend the word overkill. Nothing is too much or too good for you.”
Abbey went mute. She couldn’t object—she did need something to eventually type her new book on. And it was certainly better than the desktops at the public library. She glanced at the doors that led to his office. His desktop would have worked too. Just saying.
“The leather bag is for you to take it with you,” he continued.
“I can’t take it with me. I’ll get mugged if I’m seen with it in my neighborhood.”
“How do you expect to work then?”
“I’ll keep it here. If I come up with something, I’ll put it on paper and type it later.”
Sloan watched her in silence for a moment then nodded. He reached into the pocket of his slacks, pulling something rectangular out. “I want you to carry this, at all times. It’s non-negotiable. I want to know I can reach you when I want you.”
Abbey took the object from his hand and looked at it. It was a smart phone, just like the one he used. She studied it for a moment. She had read a story in a newspaper left at the diner just the other day. This model had been released last week, and it had caused frenzy. Supplies ran out instantaneously. People who had gotten them were selling them online for thousands of dollars. It was also reported that the data plans were astronomical.
“I can’t accept this, Sloan,” she objected. “It’s too much.”
He stared deep into her eyes. “Non-negotiable.”
She was speechless. Sloan continued, “I took the liberty of downloading some apps and programming a couple of numbers under your Favorites..”
She laughed to herself. He programmed my speed dials? What are they? Sloan’s home phone, Sloan’s cell phone, and Sloan’s assistant’s cell phone? Does Sloan have an assistant?
Abbey tapped the screen until she reached the list of speed dial contacts. Her breath caught in her throat. She was correct. The number one slot was his cell phone.
But the contact connected to the second spot read “Mary.” Abbey pressed it, finding her home number in Iowa. Tears pooled in her eyes as she looked up at him.
“I have work to finish, Abigail,” he sai
d softly. “Why don’t you dial number two while I do? I’m sure your mother would love to hear your voice and know you’re still alive.”
Without another word, he walked into his office, closing the French doors behind him and leaving her alone. She took a deep breath before pressing down on the button and hitting send.
Chapter Nine
Abbey was on the phone with her mother for more than two hours. There was crying. Abbey started hiccupping at least twice. Mary began to book a flight home for her daughter. It took a lot of convincing to make her shut down the travel website and turn off the computer.
Abbey sat quietly as her mother yelled. The letter every other week that Abbey dropped in the mail wasn’t enough. Mary called every law enforcement agency in New York City with no luck. Abbey worried her sick. She never felt so terrible in her life. I never wanted to hurt Mom. I didn’t want to burden her either.
Abbey recounted the past six months to her mother. She realized, after her tale was over, that she had glossed over Sloan’s lie and spent most of her time dwelling on Michael’s theft and betrayal. Even more amazing was that her mother didn’t call her out on the discrepancy.
As she finished the call, promising to do so more often, she heard the French doors open. She watched as Sloan strode from his office with his wool trench coat in hand. He left without a word. Abbey told Mary she loved her, said goodbye, and hung up.
She glanced around the empty penthouse. She was alone—no Sloan, no henchmen. Her eyes rested on the end table and she smiled. There had been no Christmas for her this past year. Grabbing the laptop, she plugged the cord into the wall. Then, she plopped onto the sofa and opened the screen as she powered it up. It looked like she would be celebrating tonight.
Abbey was in awe. This computer was no hand-me-down from Sloan. It even smelled brand new. The processor was insanely fast. It was loaded to the hilt with programs from word processing to voice recognition software to systems she didn’t recognize or understand.
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