Gabby felt her body warm up as a smile started to play at the corner of her lips but then she saw it. His eyes—there was no warmth there. They were cold as ice, and he was looking at her as if she was nothing more than a bad dish in the middle of an otherwise delicious meal. The two men with him also looked at her with cold eyes, their chilled gazes boring into her giving her a shiver from deep within. She looked back to Nick and his expression stopped her cold. His normally full lips were forced into a flat line. She faltered on her heels and swayed into Dono. Immediately his hand went to her elbow and then the small of her back.
“You all right?”
“I’m fine.”
He grinned. “I haven’t even given you a drink yet. Come on.”
With a last gaze, she looked back at Nick. His eyes swept past her as he was getting up and making room at the table for two more in the party. Cruella de Claire and, Gabby guessed from the resemblance to the good-looking older man following, her father. So that was Nick’s boss. It was as if a stone had suddenly fallen to the bottom of her stomach. She turned away from the scene and looked up at Dono.
“I don’t normally drink during a business lunch, but if you’re buying.”
Dono led her by her elbow to a waiting table across the restaurant where an older man with hair that was shockingly dark for his weathered skin waited. Gabby plastered on her best deal-with-it smile, hoping her face wouldn’t crack in the process. Nick was exactly where he was meant to be. In the midst of the movers and shakers. With her. And really it didn’t matter who “she” was. She was just a symbol of who he was and where he was going. Damn. She’d told herself she’d known this day would come. That it was all for the best. It was just that maybe she should have prepared a little better for it, coming as fast as it did.
Regardless, now it was time for business, and she really needed these better fabrics in order to turn her ideas for the new line around. She didn’t have time to waste worrying about Nick and what might have been.
The waiter appeared at her elbow to take her order and she slid her gaze away from Nick and Claire. No need to let it get her down. Better to get to the task at hand and that meant gathering her strength and moving on. She gave the waiter a wide smile and ordered a steak, extra rare.
• • •
Nick was fuming. It was after eight, and Gabby still wasn’t home. He sat on the couch and stared at the front door, his toes tapping the floor. Annoyed, he looked at his raising and falling knee and gave it a slap. Shit. This was ridiculous. She was probably still out with that fat-necked asshole, the one with all the hands.
When Steve had told him about that guy, Nick hadn’t been too happy, but seeing him in person had sent his blood boiling. And really, what were the chances of her walking in on his big meeting with the Suttons looking like sex on a stick and throwing him off his game? Then, he’d gotten another smack in the face when Bill Elliot walked in to check up on him with Claire on his arm—just in time for Gabby to see. She’d probably thought that shit was all planned. He growled in frustration. Of course, she’d thought it was all planned. And she was right. Elliot had planned it perfectly.
He slapped his knee again and got up and started pacing once more. It didn’t escape his notice how close that tan dude sat next to Gabby during their lunch and how his hand kept fucking disappearing under the table. It had taken all Nick had, to keep his mind on his presentation and not walk over there and break his goddamned hands. He went to the kitchen counter and banged his fist down on the old worn oak. He knew exactly what Gabby would say when he questioned her. She’d brush him off and throw Claire back up in his face. Tell him they were nothing and not exclusive. And she’d be right. He’d never made her promises and she’d never made him any either. The two of them had intentionally built this lovely little world where nightly they played house and daily they were something else entirely. Two strangers living separate lives with nothing really in common except a shared passion that only surfaced within these four walls. He really had become his father.
“Fuck.” The word came out with all the hatred and venom in his gut.
“Is this a solo act or is anyone invited?”
Nick swung around. In his rage he didn’t even hear her come in but there she was. Late, but there. “Where were you?” The words were out before he could think to stop them.
She gave him a half smile, walked in past him, and placed her bags on the counter. “So I see you didn’t cook. You want to share my leftovers from lunch or are you already full?”
“Don’t push me, Gab.”
She laughed and put her hand on his chest. “Oh please, don’t be so serious. What are you getting all up in arms about?” She walked past him and peeled off her shoes. He noticed that she didn’t do her normal at the door kick off. She held the heels in her hands. “I thought the whole thing at lunch was funny. What were the chances?” But her voice rose high and sounded a bit manic at the end. She then threw her heels under the foyer table. Hard.
Nick narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, what were the chances?”
He watched as Gabby stomped off to her room, not bothering to fully close her door, and proceeded to peel off her clothes. He stood there transfixed then shook his head. Yeah, she was fucking with him. Sensuously peeling off her blouse and slowly shimmying out of that skirt, showing him her pretty round ass in those black lace panties. But all he could see was that asshole’s big fat tanned hands as they came down on her back as they walked past their table, threatening to go lower. Then he felt the burning rage all over again when he glanced back at the table and saw Pierce Sutton’s greedy eyes on her ass too.
But she was his. Here, now, in this apartment, she was all his.
“Did you fuck him?”
At his hot words, she turned quickly around. Shock passed across her face briefly before she seared him with her eyes. He could feel the heat coming off her from twenty feet across the apartment. “What the hell difference would it make to you if I did? It wouldn’t change anything between us. We are what we are, and we have what we have. You’re doing what you’ve got to do to get ahead, and I’m doing what I’ve got to do. I don’t question you, and I’m not going to stand for you questioning me.”
Nick took several quick steps and, in an instant, he was in front of her. He picked her up by her thighs, the delicious feel of her perfect in his hands. Bringing her down hard on the bed, he captured her lips in a rough open-mouthed kiss. Sucking on her tongue, he seared his lips to hers at the same time that he held her hands above her head with one hand. With the other he caressed her breast, taking the full globe for his own. His head came down and he licked at her neck, relishing the intoxicating scent of her, letting his tongue trail down her body, freeing her breast from the lace of her bra and sucking fully and deeply until he elicited a long low moan from the back of her throat.
Letting go of her, he brought a hand down between the sweet juncture between her legs. He brought his fingers back up and licked at the sweet honey. He looked into her heavily lidded eyes. “No, you didn’t fuck him.”
Gabby stilled, then pushed at him. “And I’m not going to fuck you. Who do you think you are? As if you’re any better, screwing Claire. Just the latest in your long line of come-ups. And you have the nerve to question me. Whether I fuck my boss’s son or not is none of your business—but if I did, I’d think you’d be the first person to stand up and cheer. Hell, from you I should get some sort of honorary certificate or something.”
Nick’s heart stopped. He’d gone too far. He brought his head down to her chest and gripped her tight. Her breathing was heavy and labored after her perfectly stated speech. What was he doing, treating her this way? Accusing her like he did while Claire had been right there in her face. It wasn’t right. He was treating her in a way she didn’t deserve. Bringing the outside world in where it didn’t belong.
“I’m sorry, Gabby.”
She was silent. Nothing. But what did he expect? He’d owed her so much
for so long; how did he expect her to trust him after one weekend of lovemaking and a few short weeks of playing house?
“Gabby, please. Talk to me. Tell me we can get past this.”
She brought her hand up to his head, her voice now soft and frighteningly resigned. “There’s nothing to get past, Nick. Like I said when I came home, we are what we are. Lunch was no big deal. I thought I made it clear I’m not the same young girl that you first encountered in that closet, and you can’t hurt me like you once did. We have what we have while it’s good, and when it’s done, it’s done. I don’t expect any more from you.”
His head shot up and he looked at her. “What the hell are you talking about? Why do you keep dismissing us?”
She gave him what was now turning into an annoying, all-knowing smile. “Trust me, I saw you today, and you were in your element. You looked perfect. A person like me doesn’t fit that image; that was absolutely clear. You’ve got moves to make, and so do I. We’re just on two completely parallel paths that sometimes lunch at the same place. I’m happy you’re finally realizing your dreams.”
He stared at her. It seemed like she was being so logical and making so much sense. And she was. Beyond his haze of rage, the luncheon hadn’t been a total loss. The Suttons were getting on board with a lot of his ideas, and thanks to Gabby, he had a new one in the works, though he didn’t think this was the right time to tell her about it. The thing was, Bill was right and Mrs. Sutton was into her family thing, full force. She’d eaten up the fact the Bill and Claire had shown up, and she seemed to latch on to the whole young lovers angle that Claire had insisted on playing up. He’d felt cornered, but with his potential partnership on the line, now was not the time for him to jump ship and go rocking the boat. He had to keep riding this thing out. But still, looking at Gabby now, it all seemed inconsequential. “What about your dreams?”
She looked pensive for a moment. “Who says my dreams aren’t right on track? You aren’t the only mover and shaker. We all gotta do what we’ve got to do. Today I got the fabric I need for my samples at the price I want, so things are moving there. It’s all good.” She gave him a smile. “You don’t have to worry about me. I know I seem to be the sad ward of the Ross boys but trust me, I’m not.”
He leaned down and kissed her. “You know that’s not how I think of you.”
She pushed forward and ran her tongue across his lips, her eyes getting a mischievous glint. “Trust me, I know.”
Chapter 18
Gabby was beyond thrilled. The final samples with the new fabrics were everything she could have ever dreamed. The sample hands had gone above and beyond, and the stitching was excellent. It was as if they were just as excited to be working with finer fabrics as Gabby was. She could not believe how things were looking up. In just a few days’ time, she’d debut the first collection that she could be proud of. Sure, it was small and in a less than A-list showroom, but hey, it would be her chance to shine. Looking at the silk-lined, soft peplumed jacket as it came off the machine, Gabby had to stop herself from spinning in her leopard-print ballet flats.
Maria looked up at her with a slight smile. “These look really good, you should be proud.” From the stoic sample maker, it was high praise for sure.
“Thank you so much, Maria. You should be proud too. You did a wonderful job. You all did. It’s your work that’s making them look so great. I really can’t thank you enough. I can’t wait to show the line to the buyers. Between you and me, this is the first season in a while that I’m looking forward to getting out there on the floor with the salespeople and seeing the buyers’ reactions. I’m actually proud to be the designer this season and have my name attached. It’s like a dream.”
Maria snorted to herself, then looked down. Gabby looked at her smooth brown head, brows drawn.
“What’s with the snort?”
Maria looked up at her quickly and then back down at the box of sample pieces at her feet. She picked up the makings of a collar and proceeded to pin it together with quick expert fingers.
“Maria?” Gabby asked.
Maria wouldn’t look at her but reached back down and into the pocket of her apron. She slipped Gabby a label and looked away, shooing her with her hands. “Not here. Go to your office. But you didn’t get it from me,” she whispered. Gabby started to walk away, but Maria pulled her back by the hem of her skirt and spoke low under her breath. “Also, that new girl, Zara—the back staircase every day at three o’clock.” She made shifty eyes toward Dono’s office, sending Gabby’s stomach lurching. Shit.
Gabby nodded, clutching what Maria handed her and rushed off to her office. Once there she opened the small item in her palm of her hand and looked down. There it was. A slim white label with elegant black lettering: Z by Zenia.
Her heart dropped to the floor and the room seemed to spin as Gabby grabbed the edge of her desk to steady herself. No, she told herself, she wouldn’t fall. Falling was for weaklings and she wasn’t weak. She may be down. She may be played but she wasn’t weak. Gabby took long deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. She looked back at the label just to prove to herself that what she knew was real was real. She nodded. Gabby then looked up and out in the hall to Zara’s desk. Empty, but nothing was new there. She looked up at the ancient wall clock that was better suited for a 1950s’ classroom than a present-day fashion house.
3:05.
Gabby pushed away from the desk and straightened herself to her full height as she walked down the hall, making her way to the back staircase. Along the way she glanced into Dono’s office. Empty. She nodded and kept walking. At the back access staircase, she took a breath and without hesitation, opened the door.
There he was, head thrown back in ecstasy, sparkly eyes closed, while the young Zara was on her knees working like a champ and earning her Z for Zenia for all she was worth—especially since she hadn’t designed one piece of the collection. They didn’t pause and for the briefest of moments Gabby felt a twinge of jealousy. But it was fleeting because she knew in her heart what she was feeling was the loss of her work—she only saw the label and didn’t care one bit about the dick being sucked in front of her.
She turned to walk away and it was then that Dono noticed her. “Gab!”
She turned back in time to see him pull out of Zara’s mouth. Embarrassment and anger suddenly flooded Gabby from head to toe—for herself and worse yet for the girl in the staircase on her knees. “Really, Donovan. Don’t stop on account of me. The least you can do is finish the job and reciprocate. It looks like the girl is finally earning her keep.”
He was turning red under his tan, as he attempted to tuck in and buckle up. “I’m sorry. But you said yourself that we were to keep things between us just business.”
She crossed her arms. “That I did. And since we were just business, I thought I could trust you, but it looked like you fucked me over even more than her.” She nodded toward Zara who was just now coming up on her feet.
“What are you talking about?”
“I saw the label, Dono. Not that it matters, but I quit.” Gabby opened the stairwell door and headed toward Mr. Caberrera’s office.
Dono followed her with his shirt still half undone. “You can’t quit. Who’s going to finish up the line? How’s it going to get done in time for the buyers?”
All the sample hands and patternmakers were looking at them as they made quite a show, a little parade of three marching down the hall to Caberrera’s office. Gabby threw her hands up. “That’s not my problem anymore. That’s yours and the woman’s whose initial is on the label.”
With that she stormed into Caberrera’s office and he looked up at her with Dono’s sparkling eyes set in a more-weathered face. She slammed the label on the desk. “I quit.”
His eyes went wide, and he did a good job on putting on a look of surprise. “What? But why?”
“You dare ask me why in the face of this?” She pointed at the label.
Caber
rera turned all lobster. He shook his head. “Gabby, please, you have to understand. We have our buyers and they expect a certain image to represent Zenia. And sadly, you are not it. I’m sorry, but Margo and I agree.”
Fucking Margo. The woman had had it out for her ever since she’d walked in the door. Gabby wanted to die. She’d never been more humiliated in her life. Well, once, but she’d sworn she’d never let it happen again. That she’d never give away that much power.
Fighting to keep her voice even she looked Caberrera in the eye. “I find it really convenient that now, after I’ve done all the ground work and set you up with a line to finally bring this company out of the dark ages, I’m suddenly not the right image. Well, good luck maintaining what I started with Little Miss Z over here.”
Mr. Caberrera’s eyes shifted from her to Zara and his coloring went from lobster to purple. Suddenly, through her anger Gabby actually felt a hint of pity for the man. She could see the fate of the old company and thought he did too. They wouldn’t make it.
He muttered something about the line and reputations and how she had to give notice, but she tuned it all out. She was done. Gabby was proud of herself when she calmly looked Caberrera in the face and told him that if he gave her anything less than a glowing recommendation, she’d sue him and his company for harassment—and that some of his son’s texts, archived on her phone, were just the ammunition she’d need for the beginning of that lawsuit. The man was easy. He clammed up and told her that her final check would be on the way along with a sizeable severance. She looked at him one last time and turned on her ballet flats. It was a small victory in the face of losing all her work, but at least it got her out the door.
Threads Of Desire (Creative Hearts Book 3) Page 17
