“Be grateful for his generosity, his protection, and his love. He doesn’t give them often. Or easily. He can’t afford to.”
Abbey exhaled slowly. She looked out the kitchen archway to the living room. She needed Sloan. Needed to be in his arms. She knew what she wanted. Tossing the dishcloth into the sink, she trotted up the stairs to the loft.
When she came back downstairs, she found him unmoved, his eyes still glued to the television. The plate on which the sandwich was delivered sat empty on the table beside him. He cradled the neck of the bottle in his fingers, occasionally taking sips.
She sashayed across the floor to his side. He looked up at her. “Yes, Abigail?”
Abbey gently took the beer from his hand and set in on the table next to the plate. Then, she lowered herself to straddle his lap, digging her knees into the cushion on either side of his hips. Pulling her tank top over her head, she buried her lips against his. She felt Sloan’s large, powerful hands grip her thighs to lift her as he broke their kiss.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he purred.
Abbey leaned into him to keep him in place. Her fingers slid against her bare skin along the waistband of her boxer shorts. She pulled free the condom she had tucked there and pressed it against the arm of the chair with her fingertips.
“No,” she whispered breathlessly. “Here. Now.”
»»•««
Abbey woke up before the alarm went off on her phone. Pale streaks of dawn had just started to touch the morning sky. She sighed deeply. I don’t want to get out of bed.
Sloan’s shoulder made an incredible pillow. Stretching her arm across his broad, naked chest, she nuzzled her cheek against the warm flesh. She could feel his slow, steady breath rise and fall beneath her. I really don’t want to get out of bed.
Abbey looked up at Sloan’s face. His features were so perfect—it was like they were chiseled from marble by Michelangelo. His thick, black hair lay rumpled in contrast with the expensive, white cotton pillowcase.
This is the life I want. She didn’t want the book contract. She didn’t want the fame and fortune. She wanted to wake up every morning at his side just like this.
It sucks that our marriage is on paper only. And it was an arrangement he no longer needed now that he had his investment visa. Although it was true that they now had a relationship, it wasn’t permanent. It wasn’t a real marriage.
Abbey gently touched Sloan’s face with her fingertips.
“I wish I could keep you,” she whispered. Watching him for a moment more, she slipped from beneath the sheets.
Abbey silently crept to the master bath to dress. Pulling her soft brown hair into a ponytail, she stared at her image in the large mirror. For a fleeting moment, she considered stripping off her uniform and crawling back into bed. With a sigh, she flipped off the light. Picking up her cell from the end table, she stopped to blow a kiss to her sleeping husband before descending the staircase.
Abbey dropped her phone into her purse then hooked the purse strap over her shoulder. She turned to the door to leave before jumping back startled.
“Are you leaving?” Sloan asked sleepily. He stood on the staircase in a pair of cotton pajama pants, his strong arms crossed over his bare, sculpted chest.
“Yes. I have to go to work,” she replied, her voice near defensive.
He smiled gently. “I know. I would like to throw you over my shoulder, carry you upstairs, undress you, and tuck you back into my bed. However, I know how much this job means to you. I didn’t come down to stop you from leaving,”
In two large strides, Sloan crossed the living room. He tilted her chin and softly pressed his lips to hers.
“I came down to kiss you goodbye,” he murmured. “And wish you a good day at work.”
“Uh-huh,” she grinned dreamily.
“I’ll see you at three o’clock.”
Abbey looked at him, confused. “I don’t get off work until three. I won’t be here until nearly four.”
“I have no meetings this afternoon. I thought I would accompany Gordon when he came to get you.”
She beamed at the thought of an extra hour with him. “That would be nice.”
“Yes, it would,” he agreed. He gently guided her to the door, stopping to kiss her tenderly one more time. “I’ll see you later.”
“Bye,” she whispered.
“Bye.” Sloan held the penthouse door open for her. He didn’t close it until she disappeared into the elevator.
Abbey excitedly greeted Gordon at the curb in front of the penthouse. He held the rear passenger door for her as she jumped inside and settled herself in. She was eager to get this workday over with so she could crawl back into this car, this time with Sloan waiting for her inside.
»»•««
Abbey couldn’t wait to get off work. Nothing could faze her. Between the memory of Sloan’s kiss goodbye and the promise that he would come to pick her up from work, she was floating on a cloud all day.
As the final minutes of her workday ticked off the clock, Barker sauntered into the dining area of the restaurant. His apron was unusually grimy and greasy, a byproduct of scraping the grill clean for most of the afternoon.
“Abbey, answer a question for me, will ya?” he asked.
“Sure. What’s up?”
Barker pointed out the large, glass window to the street. As usual, the black Hummer sat in wait. It had become as much of a fixture in the street as the lamp post it sat beside.
“I’ve gotten used to that thing sitting out there stalking you,” he continued, “but then it picked you up instead of following you as you walked home. Now, it drops you off in the morning instead of you walking here. Where are you going when you aren’t here?”
She shuffled her feet uneasily. “I’ve been staying with a friend.”
“What kind of friend?”
Abbey looked at him confused. “What do you mean?”
Barker sighed. “Abbey, you’re a good girl. I don’t want you getting mixed up with the wrong crowd. If you need money, I can schedule you more hours or give you a raise. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”
“No, Barker. It’s not like that.”
“Then you won’t mind me meeting your friend.”
She stared at him silently, dumbfounded. He pointed at her purse. “I know you can reach him. I watch you text when you don’t think I’m looking. Invite him in here.”
Abbey exhaled slowly in protest. Then, she reached in and pulled out her phone. Quickly tapping on the screen, she dropped it back into her bag.
She watched out the window in horror as the back door of the Hummer opened and Sloan stepped out. He was cool sophistication in his Armani suit as he strode across the street to the diner. Abbey glanced up at Barker, his dark face skewed in immediate dislike. A pit formed deep in her stomach. This meeting is not going to go well.
Sloan opened the door and stepped inside. “Is everything all right, Abigail?”
“Yes. Everything’s fine. I just wanted to introduce you to—”
Barker thrust his hand under Sloan’s nose. “Barker Jones.”
Sloan looked from Barker to Abbey. A smile spread across his face. He took Barker’s hand in his and shook it. “Sloan O’Riley. Pleased to meet you.”
Barker stared at Sloan evenly. “Where you from, Sloan?”
Abbey gaped at Barker. Where the devil did that come from?
“Belfast, Northern Ireland, sir.”
Barker stared at him for a moment more. “Sloan O’Riley? Not the same Sloan O’Riley who dropped a huge amount of cash on the Museum of Art and the New York-Presbyterian Hospital’s Burn Unit? To the tune of millions of dollars?”
“Yes, I am, sir. They are two organizations dear to me.”
Her heart fluttered, lovesick. Sloan, my Sloan, a philanthropist?
“What business are you in, Sloan?” Barker demanded.
She wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor.
“I’m an arti
st. I broker art—my own and other artists’. I also invest in real estate. I own two buildings—one in San Francisco and one here in New York City.”
Barker glared at him warily. “How do you know Abbey?”
Sloan smiled proudly at her. “Along with being a businessman and an artist, I’m also an illustrator, primarily for children’s books. I was assigned as Abigail’s illustrator for her first book. Now we’re working on a second one.”
Barker turned toward Abbey. “You wrote a children’s book? You never told me.”
“Well,” she stammered, “things got derailed a bit.”
“However, with our second book, we’ll be back on track,” Sloan assured. “Right, luv?”
“Yes,” she squeaked.
Sloan extended his hand to Barker again. “It was a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Abbey watched as the two men coldly shook a second time. Sloan winked at her. “I’ll wait for you in the car, Abigail. Take your time. Come when you’re ready.”
“Okay,” she replied quietly.
Abbey and Barker stood silently until the door closed behind him. Then, Abbey turned and glared at Barker. “I’m going to go unless you have more questions,” she quipped.
“One more question,” he replied. “When were you going to tell me he’s your husband?”
Abbey spun at him. “Wait…how…” She laughed. “The rings.”
“That. And the way he looks at you. He stared at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him.” Barker pulled a glass from under the counter then turned to fill it with Coke. He set it in front of her. “Now, tell me. Why are you waiting tables here when you’re married to him?”
In the empty restaurant, Abbey poured her story out to Barker. Unlike what she told her mother, Abbey left very few details out for him. She encompassed everything—her letter from Panda, Sloan’s lie, Michael’s proposal, and her hasty marriage to Sloan to secure his green card. She told him of both men’s deceptions that led to her flight and the ugly downward spiral that followed. All she left out were recent events, namely the fact that she was now sleeping with Sloan. There were just some things Barker didn’t need to know.
She waited quietly for his response. He could not possibly approve of a man who lied to her, controlled her, and then coerced her in about a dozen different ways, even if all of it was for her own good.
Barker stood silent for a moment then cleared his throat. “I think you’d better be going, Abbey. He’s waiting.”
“That’s it?” she asked incredulously. “No ‘stay away from that man’? No ‘that man is trouble’?”
He smiled at her gently. “That man could buy this city block and the five surrounding it with just the change in his pocket. And yet he called me ‘sir.’ He treated me with respect. And like I said the way he looked at you…”
Abbey stared at Barker, confused. “How did he look at me?”
“Like you’re the only thing in his world. And with the money that man has, he pretty much owns the world.”
She blushed hot red, even though she was certain Barker had no idea what he was talking about.
He cocked his head toward the door. “Get home to your husband. And have a good day off.”
Abbey gathered her purse. Before she left, she gave Barker a quick squeeze. Then, with a wave goodbye, she skipped across the street to the waiting Hummer.
After a quick shower, Sloan took her to dinner then to the opening of a new play. She barely set foot in the penthouse before she was caught in his arms, his mouth hot on hers. Abbey sighed as he led her upstairs to their bedroom.
»»•««
The next morning, Abbey opened her eyes when the sun hit her face. She couldn’t wait for the day to begin. In her mind, she had been making big plans to spend her day off with Sloan. The sooner we get started, the better. She hopped out of bed and quickly pulled on her pajamas that had been discarded on the floor the night before.
She jogged down the stairs, eagerly looking for Sloan. She stopped short as he strode out of his office, buttoning the cuff of his dress shirt. Her excitement fell at the sight of him dressed in his Armani suit, even though he looked unbelievable in it.
“I should have known you’d be working today,” Abbey sighed as she forced a smile on her face.
“Just this morning. I have a meeting,” he replied. “I’ll be home by lunch. Would you like to go out?”
“Sure.” At least I’ll get to spend some of my day with him.
Sloan stared at her warily for a moment, as if he was waiting for her reaction. She watched as he crossed the penthouse to his easel. Sorting his illustrations into order, he set them in the leather portfolio that leaned against the leg. He turned to glance at her once again before he unpinned the printed copy of her second story from the board and slipped it into the portfolio beside his drawings.
Abbey gasped. “You’re going to Panda!”
“Yes. I’m meeting with Aubrey this morning.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” she eagerly volunteered.
“Not this time.”
Abbey felt her hopes fall again. “Aubrey still hates me for leaving, doesn’t she?”
Sloan wove around the furniture of the living area to her and pulled her into his arms. “She doesn’t hate you, Abigail. I’m only turning the book in today. When the editors approve it, we’ll meet with Aubrey together to finalize things. All right?”
She looked into his ice blue eyes then nodded. He had a way of saying things that made her feel so much better. I’m such a sucker for him.
Sloan pressed a long, soft, wet kiss on her lips. “I’ll see you after my meeting. Think about where you’d like me to take you for lunch.”
“Okay,” she cooed. I am such a shmuck. How old am I again? Thirteen?
She heard him chuckle as he picked up his portfolio. “Lass, you’re beautiful when you get annoyed with yourself.”
“I’m not annoyed with myself.”
“I heard your lovesick sigh too.” He winked at her before he left the penthouse, latching the door behind him. She couldn’t stop her giggle. It would be a great day after all.
Chapter Fourteen
The O’Rileys sank into a state of dysfunctional domestic bliss. Sloan was up at the crack of dawn to kiss Abbey goodbye. If for some reason he wasn’t home when she arrived, he left her a note to tell her where he was and how late he’d be.
Abbey still wouldn’t give up her apartment, leaving half her clothes in the cardboard boxes she used as her dresser. And, despite Sloan’s constant objections, she held onto her job at the diner. She loved the way her life was now. But she had loved the way her life was before Miami. She needed a safety net.
Abbey found out things about her husband she never knew or would have imagined. In their state of co-habitation, she half-expected to spend every night at a gourmet restaurant. Instead, she discovered Sloan was an incredible cook. She was welcomed after her post-work showers to a dinner that outshone anything she ordered at a five-star restaurant in New York City.
Dinner was almost always followed with a quiet night of watching television or reading, while cuddling on the couch. The day was at its finest when her arms were wrapped around him, her bare arms nestled against his linen shirt and her cheek buried against his warm shoulder.
After the couple turned off the lights and turned down the bed, the real fun started. It was amazing that she could function on so little sleep.
It jarred Abbey’s perfect little world when she arrived home on Friday night to see Robert and Bartholomew dressed for a night out and waiting for Sloan. Sloan descended from the loft. He smiled as he laid eyes on her.
“Hey, luv,” he purred.
“Are you going out?” Abbey demanded. She knew she shouldn’t be so sharp with him, but she could feel the jealousy bubbling up inside her.
“Yes, Abigail.”
“Where?” she drilled.
“The night clubs. I’m meeting
with clients.”
“When are you leaving?”
Sloan beamed as he pointed to the bedroom. “As soon as you’re ready.”
Her eyes flew wide open in excitement as her gaze shot from one man to the other. Without another word, she dashed up the stairs.
She sighed when she found a short black dress lying on the bed. It was very similar to the midnight blue one Sloan had bought for her, down to the cap sleeves and V neckline. Ah, I love it when he dresses me.
Quickly showering, she curled her hair, pinning it up with combs. As she pulled the dress over her damp skin, her toe nudged a stiletto heel tucked beside the bed. Abbey sat on the mattress to fit the shoe and its mate onto her feet.
Taking a deep breath, she started down the stairs. She stopped at the landing, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for Sloan’s approval. She felt a surge of electricity course through her as his ice blue eyes met hers.
Before, when they had first met and she thought he was gay, she hadn’t understood what that look in his eyes meant. But now that she shared his skin, she knew. The look was primal, predatory, and sensual. A look that told her he was considering cancelling their plans, no matter how many millions it would cost him. His look told her that he wanted to throw his friends out of the penthouse without so much as a word…to pick her up and carry her back to their bed.
Abbey smiled slyly at Sloan. Oh yeah. He approves. To cement her point, she asked with as much innocence as she could muster, “Do I look all right?”
Sloan didn’t smile. He didn’t smirk. He only stared. “Exquisite.”
She slowly, deliberately crossed the room to him, picked up her purse then wrapped her arm around his. “So when do we leave?”
»»•««
The club was packed even at this early hour. Very much unlike the warm pub where they had spent Gordon’s birthday, this bar was metallic and cold. A plate metal staircase descended from the entrance door. The stainless steel bar curved to encompass two slate-gray walls lined with colored translucent bottles of liquor.
Cool blue neon radiated from beneath the steel countertop and hard black seats mounted on steel poles comprised the barstools. Booths with upholstered bench seats were inset into the wall. Metal tables and chairs were scattered around a concrete dance floor. The place was sterile. It made Abbey uncomfortable.
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