by Skye Warren
“Please,” I whisper.
“Promise me.”
“Anything,” I moan, and that’s the sad truth. That’s crazy. That’s me.
His voice is harsh, roughened by sex, but determined. “Promise you won’t try to leave. I’m letting you out of my house. Letting you out of this car. You have to stay with me. Behind me. At all times.”
My mind is drenched with need. It’s hard to think. Hard to speak.
It feels like I haven’t spoken in a thousand years. My mouth struggles to form words. “I promise.”
His hand moves to the ledge of the car door in front of me. Leverage. I realize it when he manages to move deeper inside me, the force pushing a whimper of pain from me.
His other hand wraps around my neck like he had before. From behind this time. His mouth lowers to my ear, his whisper like a dark dream. “He won’t stop, understand? The man who’s hunting you. If he gets his hands on you, he’ll squeeze and squeeze until you long for death. Understand?”
To make sure that I do, he squeezes. Black spots dance in front of my eyes.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I can’t speak. Can’t even nod my head. Can’t even beg, and I think this is what he wanted all along. My body convulses, on the verge of an orgasm, on the edge of passing out, torn between pleasure and pain.
On the next thrust he releases my neck, and the rush of air burns all the way down my throat, all the way through my lungs, bursting in a fire of oxygen and arousal, my climax hitting me with the encompassing flare of a forest fire. I press uselessly against the cool glass, desperate for relief, tears slick against my cheeks. The sound that emerges from me is rough and uneven, more object than animal, something being torn apart. He plunges deep and holds there, grip piercing on my hips as he holds me steady, his halted breath the only sound of his orgasm.
I collapse against the door, my muscles made soft and replete. Satisfied, like he said I would be. Satisfied so that I would let him hurt me. He doesn’t hurt me, not anymore. He pulls me against his body, gathering me like I’m in a hundred pieces. I curl into his lap, resting my head against the smooth fabric of his shirt. How is it that he isn’t even wrinkled? I’m a disaster.
“You can’t go looking for him,” he says, his voice low. And strained, as if this is almost too important to put into words. “No matter what happens. No matter what you think or fear or wonder.”
I blink slowly, made curious by his intensity. Why does he think that will happen?
“I know what he did to my mother. I saw what happened at my house. I know how dangerous he is.”
His arms tighten around me. “Danger doesn’t keep you away.”
Because he’s dangerous. That’s what he tried to prove by holding my neck, by threatening me. It’s what he did every time he threatened the women at his father’s brothel. Threatening them in a desperate attempt to keep them safe. I nuzzle my face deeper against his chest. “I’m here, Gabriel. I’m not leaving.”
And only then does he allow his head to rest on top of mine. He could have climaxed ten times, but he wouldn’t have had the bone-deep satisfaction that radiates from him now.
He doesn’t want me broken. He wants me whole.
Chapter Six
I spend a few minutes freshening up with the makeup in my clutch, but there’s not enough lipstick in the world to make me presentable. My eyelids are heavy, my cheeks flushed. My hair a wild mane around my shoulders. It’s dark in the back of the limo, but I know I must look sultry, the aura of sex emanating from me.
Gabriel raps on the window, and the door opens. A blast of humid night air rushes in, a sharp contrast to the cool interior. I take Gabriel’s hand, surprised to find my legs shaky. I know that I affect him. I can see the impact when we’re alone together. And I see how much he fights it. But he looks completely unaffected, his expression stern, his suit perfectly pressed despite what we just did. No one would know that he just had sex to look at him. Meanwhile I’m rumpled and loose-limbed, every nerve of my body still tingling from aftershocks.
I blush when we pass the men standing at the door, but they don’t meet my eyes. They don’t even twitch. They might as well be statues made of concrete.
Gabriel’s hand guides me up the narrow steps onto a hand-scraped wood floor I remember from my visits. Except there aren’t any tables. There’s a muted clatter of pots, the bustle of the kitchen not far away. All I can see is a shadowy interior.
As if he’s walked this path a hundred times, he guides me down the hallway. The restaurant spreads out in front of me, dark walnut tables surrounded by maroon leather booths. The large rooms arranged in such a way that almost every person is visible from here—but no one directly faces us.
He pulls my hair to the side, exposing my throat. His lips meet the side of my neck, warm and soft—a contrast to the cold space in my chest. “This is where I stood,” he murmurs. “When you laughed. When you smiled at your daddy like he was the whole world.”
Pain squeezes my heart. “And that’s when you decided to ruin him?”
“No, little virgin. That’s when I decided to ruin you.”
I whirl to face him. “Stop trying to scare me. I’m not afraid of you.”
His expression flickers with something like pride. Something like pleasure. “And now you look at me like I’m the whole world. Do you want me to apologize for that?”
“It might be nice.”
“Do you want me to pretend I wouldn’t do it again? Do you have any idea how much you’re worth?”
“One million dollars,” I whisper because the amount is imprinted on my soul. Written on my body.
He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting my gaze to his. “I built that house like a fortress, a goddamn castle. All that’s missing is a drawbridge. But I had nothing to protect. No one.”
I turn away from him, staring at the glittering array of women, the black-and-white clad men. “You could have had anyone.”
“Not someone I would die for.”
“I don’t want you to die for me,” I say too loudly. The couple at the closest table turn their heads. Whatever they see in Gabriel’s expression makes them look away fast. I struggle to find my composure. “I don’t want you to die at all.”
“Not even for revenge?”
My eyes prick with tears. It wasn’t only me in that fire that haunts my dreams. It was Gabriel, trapped and burning. “Not ever.”
His hands are firm on my arms. He steps forward, and I stumble back—I’m falling, hands tight in his shirt. He guides me to the wood-paneled wall of the hallway, only half blocked by heavy velvet drapery. His forehead meets mine. I’m trapped by the size of him, the strength. I’m held captive by his physicality, but it’s the gentle touch of his forehead that catches my breath.
“I don’t want to die for you, little virgin.”
My hands wrap tighter in the fabric, pulling myself higher, pulling him down. I can’t seem to get close enough. The clothes are in the way. Air is in the way. An entire universe colluding to keep us apart. “No?”
“Let me live for you.”
A helpless sound escapes me, because a bond like that doesn’t go one way. It’s a string between our hearts, our souls, something no amount of money could ever measure. I’m already living for him, already lost. “Yes,” I breathe.
“Then stay.”
This moment is as much a command as his orders in the limo, that moment as much a plea as his breath on the bridge of my nose now. He orders me to stay; he begs me. And all of it points to the same conclusion: he believes I’m going to leave.
Chapter Seven
The owner of the restaurant greets Gabriel like an old friend, with a warm smile and a two-handed shake. He seems sincerely pleased to meet me, even giving me condolences for my father, as if he’s dead instead of merely poor and ill. In this society that’s worse than death. I accept them awkwardly, still torn between a deep-seated grief and my sen
se of betrayal.
My father was the only family I knew for so long. He was my whole world, like Gabriel said. And I would have done anything for him. I did anything for him, auctioning my virginity once his medical bills drained my college fund.
But he wasn’t the man I thought he was.
He betrayed me, essentially selling me as part of a business contract before he was attacked. And maybe worse than that, he betrayed my mother. He hadn’t believed her when she needed him the most. Would she still be alive if he had believed her? Would she have gone to confront Jonathan Scott if my father had been her true ally?
I shiver, because Gabriel believes me. Doesn’t he?
“Avery!”
I’m startled from my own thoughts by Candy’s voice. She smiles, standing from the table tucked into a corner. This is the most secluded spot in the restaurant.
“I didn’t know you were coming!”
She gives me a tight hug, smelling like sugar and sex. “I’ve been begging Ivan to let me see you for weeks.” Her eye roll is somehow precocious and sensual at the same time. “He insists on being by my side ever since the fire.”
“So it’s not just Gabriel,” I say.
A soft laugh. “They have some things in common, our men. But I’m guessing they do some things very differently. For example Ivan loves to—”
“Darling.” Ivan Tabakov strokes his hand along her bright blonde hair, the touch gentle and yet possessive. He gives me a grave nod in greeting before returning his attention to Candy. “We don’t discuss such things at the dinner table.”
She gives him a fake-puzzled look. “I was just going to tell them your favorite drink after a hard day at work. What did you think I was talking about?”
“Of course you were,” he says drily.
Gabriel leans forward to shake his hand. “Tabakov.”
A nod. “Miller. Have you found anything?”
“Nothing worth mentioning.”
I exchange a glance with Candy. They’re talking about Jonathan Scott. I didn’t realize that Ivan Tabakov was looking for him, too, but I suppose he considers the fire an attack on Candy. At the very least he’s a danger. And from the hard glint in Ivan’s silver eyes, he doesn’t let anything pose a danger to her.
“Excuse us,” Candy says breezily. “Avery and I need to visit the little girl’s room.”
Gabriel frowns, his hands hard around my waist. “I don’t think so.”
“It’s like six feet away,” Candy says, laughing.
My eyes narrow. “Does my leash not extend that far?”
“No,” he says, his voice flat.
There’s no room for argument in the set of his jaw, but I’m not backing down. “We’ll be inside the restaurant! I know you have people standing watch outside.”
That was only a guess, but the look on his face confirms it. “That’s not the point.”
“You can’t follow me into the bathroom.”
His golden eyes glint with challenge. “Can’t I?”
It won’t work to confront him, to fight him. He’s a warrior. This isn’t only about where I go. It’s about the very nature of our relationship, the way that I wield my power. And I don’t need the strength that comes from muscle, from steel. I have other weapons.
I squeeze Gabriel’s hand. “I’d love a few minutes of girl time.”
The change in him happens in degrees. He doesn’t soften. That word doesn’t suit him. But he believes in me, and that’s even better. “Five minutes.”
“Ten,” I say, pushing to my toes so I can kiss his cheek. The scruff of his jaw abrades my lips, a small reminder of the punishment he wields when he wants to.
Candy links arms with me, pulling me away before I can change my mind.
My heart lurches when we round the corner, leaving the men staring after us. It’s silly to be afraid, especially because Candy hadn’t been exaggerating about the distance. There’s a private bathroom tucked into this corner, separate from the one I had used before on the main floor. A lavish parlor with a sofa and lighted dressing table fill the carpeted bathroom. Two stalls are set deep in the room.
Candy collapses on the sofa, looking like a glamorous star from black-and-white movies in her glittering gown. “Sit by me. Tell me how you are. We only have a few minutes before they come looking for us.”
That makes me laugh as I sink into the plush cushions with her. “You’re probably right. A WOMAN sign on the door isn’t going to stop them.”
“Hardly. And they’ve both been worried, even though they try to hide it. I’ve never seen Ivan like this.”
The reminder sobers me. “This is the first time I’ve left Gabriel’s house since that night.”
Blue eyes widen. “Are you serious? I would go stir-crazy. At least I get to go to the Grand. Ivan comes with me, which is stifling enough.”
It’s like a lungful of air to have someone understand me. “I know he just wants to keep me safe, but it’s a different kind of dangerous, being all locked away like this.”
“Loneliness?”
I look away. “I don’t know.”
She takes my hand. “You can trust me.”
“Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy in those rooms, all alone.”
Like my mother went crazy. At least she felt that way. It turned out that there were speakers in the walls, but that can’t be the case in Gabriel’s house. There’s security. There are guards. It’s perfectly safe.
So why do I still hear voices?
Worry darkens her liquid eyes. “Have you told Gabriel about this?”
“No way,” I say immediately. “He would just freak out. More than he already does.”
She bites her lip, which is pink and plump. “He could help you.”
He already thinks I’m going to go running to Jonathan Scott, like my mother did. If he knows I hear voices too, he will never trust me. And I want that more than anything—maybe even more than sanity.
“Let’s go back,” I say. “Once he starts coming to the bathroom with me, he might not stop.”
We find the men standing beside the table, waiting for us. I don’t miss the flash of relief when Gabriel sees me turn the corner. My own heart slows half a beat, my body calmed by his presence. It’s like we both feel the invisible forces pulling us apart, both hear the voices in the walls. Only when we’re together does it seem possible to beat them.
He gives me a slight smile. “I ordered for you.”
Suddenly I feel shy. The domesticity of it. The intimacy, deeper than sharing our bodies. “Shrimp cocktail?”
“In the largest glass they have.” He bends to kiss my forehead. It feels like a shot of warmth in the middle of winter.
He pulls out a chair, and I move to sit. Only when my butt touches the wooden surface do I hear the crack in the air. Only when I look up do I see the split of wood in the wall, at the same height as my head.
The world reduces to seconds. One second. Two. And then Gabriel’s hands are on me, harsher than they have ever been before, pushing me down to the floor.
Three. He lands on top of me, his weight pushing the air from my lungs.
Four. Another crack. Someone is shooting at us.
Someone tried to shoot me.
Five. Six. Seven. My heartbeat thunders in my ears.
I can’t hear anything, and then all at once I hear everything. Screaming the night of the fire. My mother’s voice. Only this time she isn’t telling me to stay inside.
From somewhere deep in my memory, when I was too young to understand, too little to know what it meant, I heard her on the phone.
“I’ll meet you there,” she whispers, her hand cupping the receiver.
I’m huddled beneath the vanity, clutching the doll with long hair. I know she’ll be mad if she finds me here. I should have gone to sleep an hour ago.
She leaves the room, and I feel the walls shift as she leaves. Daddy is at work, like he always is. I know Rosita is downstairs sleeping if I real
ly need something. Sometimes I wake her up because I don’t want to be alone. At least that’s what I tell her.
The truth is I’m not ever really alone.
Chapter Eight
“Avery!” The shaking jolts me back to reality, to the dark interior of the limo, to the swerving motion of the vehicle, usually so smooth. To Gabriel’s fierce golden eyes. “Are you hurt?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat, struggling to get myself under control. “Is Candy okay?”
“She’s fine,” he mutters, but his attention is on his hands. He runs them over my arms, down my body, my legs. He’s touched me a hundred times, but never like this—impersonal, efficient. Like he’s trying to find an injury.
“I’m fine,” I tell him. “Not hurt.”
His eyes glow with a ferocity that seems otherworldly. “Where did you go?”
He doesn’t mean physically. I went somewhere in my mind, someplace dark. A memory? A dream. “I think…I don’t know. I went into shock or something.”
“I’m taking you to the hospital.” He drops his fist onto a panel of buttons. “Ben. St. Mary’s.”
The thought of being tied down with tubes makes me cringe. I still remember the smell of disinfectant from taking care of my father for months. “No. Please. I promise I’m okay.”
His nostrils flare. “Avery.”
I press my forehead to his, the way he did in the restaurant. “I’m fine. I’m one hundred percent fine.”
“You scared me,” he admits gruffly. “I thought you’d been hit.”
My hands run over him without thought, driven by the same instinct that made him examine me. “Are you hurt? Do you need the hospital? Gabriel!”
He grunts when my fingers brush over something wet on his neck. “It’s nothing. A graze.”
“A graze from a bullet? Oh my God.”
He presses the button on the door again. “The Den.”
“No! You were going to take me to a hospital, but not yourself?”
