Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
GS: Already left. Have some business to attend to. Be safe.
That last message is for Sophie, and Brenna will know this.
Sophie. She’ll be hurting and is probably unsettled. It was clear she isn’t accustomed to being hit or treated with violence, and thank Christ for that small mercy. I should be with her, offering her comfort. Our bed—because it’s ours and has been from the moment she laid down in it—will be cool and soft.
But if I get into it with her tonight, I don’t know how I’ll react. I’ve already shown too much of myself to her. Exposure has never been easy. I can’t do more of it right now without losing the hold I’ve kept on myself for years.
Sophie. Regret pinches my chest.
I tap out one last message to Brenna.
GS: I’ll be a while. Make certain Sophie is settled and icing her eye.
Little dots appear on my screen.
Brenna: You know it, boss man. Be safe yourself.
I suspect Brenna knows exactly what I plan to do, even though the urge has just registered in my own head. But I need it. I need the release.
Scrolling through my contacts list, I find the one I want.
GS: What do you have available for tonight?
Not five seconds later, the answer comes.
Carmen: It’s been too long, S. Beginning to think you’d forgotten all about me. Have a slot. 2am.
And address follows.
I tuck the phone away, feeling dirty, depraved. I shouldn’t. I’ve nothing to be ashamed of. But I am. I always am when I give in to weakness.
Chapter Seventeen
Sophie
* * *
It feels wrong somehow to hang out alone in Gabriel’s coach. Oh, he’s made it perfectly clear that I should consider this my space as well. But I don’t. Every inch of the place is all Gabriel—something I actually enjoy. Over the years, I’ve had enough of living by myself. I don’t need to feel like I’m in my space. I like being in his domain.
Normally, stepping inside his bus is a little like being wrapped up in the man himself; everything is cool, calm, orderly. It smells of him, crisp and expensive. It feels safe.
Right now, however, I don’t like it one bit. Because he isn’t here, and I don’t mind admitting that I want him here. I need him here. As much as I hate my weakness, my body hasn’t yet let the incident go. I keep shaking, my fingers and toes ice cold. My face hurts, despite taking painkillers and icing it.
I need the distraction of Gabriel. And quite frankly, I was holding on to the promise of eventually sliding into bed with him as a reward for getting through this miserable night.
He didn’t come home with us, telling Brenna he had business to attend to. The pinched expression on her face when she read his texts makes me think she knew more than she let on, and that whatever he was doing, she didn’t approve.
I didn’t text him. For once, pride wouldn’t let me. He abandoned me when I was scared and hurt. Maybe I shouldn’t look at it that way, but shaking that feeling has proven impossible.
Worse? He never came home.
It’s morning now, and my head hurts after a long, sleepless night of flopping around on the bed, trying to shut off my mind and let my body rest.
He made me promise every night. Every damn night.
Did that not imply the same for him? That he would be here Every. Fucking. Night?
I slam a coffee cup down on his glossy black counter and pour a full cup. Yeah, that’s right, coffee. Not tea. Tea is not the answer to all of life’s problems. Sometimes dark, bitter as fuck, American-style coffee is the answer.
I glare at the door as I take a defiant sip, then wince. I actually don’t like black coffee. I’m more of cream and two sugars gal.
“Fucking tailored-suit-wearing Brit, making me drink black coffee,” I mutter, grabbing the sugar and cream. A blob of cream lands on the counter. I ignore it. Ha. I can imagine his sneer upon seeing it.
Unfortunately, petty, pathetic victories aren’t very satisfying.
I’m clutching my mug and curled up on one of the armchairs when he texts me. Apparently, I’ve lost all shame because I leap for the phone.
His message is a kick to the chest.
Sunshine: I’m away on business for a few days. Have already notified others. See you in Rome. Play nice with my boys.
A few days? He’s already told everyone else?
It’s embarrassing how disappointed I am. How…hurt.
This isn’t good. He’s doing his job, and I’m ready to stomp my foot like a disgruntled child.
Biting my lip, I answer him.
Me: I’m throwing a party in your coach with the band while you’re gone.
So clearly, being petty is not out of the picture yet.
There isn’t even a pause before he answers.
Sunshine: Good. You shouldn’t be alone. Have Jules charge everything to me. Or find the black credit card I have tucked in my sock drawer.