"It’s the Mulberry Women’s Shelter," I say, breathless at the proximity. "Their holiday gala. They’ve got a small budget, but make a big impact. Or they would if they can get the word out to potential donors. I’m doing it for almost nothing, but it gets my name back out there attached to something positive. It proves I’m not 'unstable.'"
He studies the screen, then looks down at me. There’s no mockery in his gaze. No condescension. Just a slow, simmering burn that makes my core clench.
"You fought for yourself. For what you want," he observes.
"I had to. Ryder poisoned the well with the high-end clients. Rebuilding from the ground up is the only option."
"Good." His thumb brushes the sensitive skin behind my ear, sending a shiver racing down my spine as he stares at me with something like pride burning beside the lust in his eyes. "Ryder underestimated you. He thought you were delicate. He didn't realize what you really are. Howstrongyou really are."
The compliment settles in my chest, starting to fill in the cracks left there over my lifetime.
"I’m not disappearing, Gabriel," I tell him, meeting his gaze. "I’m not going to be just… here. Waiting for you."
"I never asked you to," he says, his voice dropping an octave.
He reaches for a leather portfolio he placed on the counter when he walked in. He slides it across the marble.
"Speaking of which," he says, his tone shifting to something more businesslike, though he doesn't step back. "My legal team sent these over. Since you’re living here, we need to handle the administrative side of things."
I eye the folder. "Administrative side?"
"Insurance, mostly," he says, flipping it open. "I’m adding you to the household policy. It covers your belongings, liability, medical if anything happens on the grounds. Plus security clearance. Jaxon needs your signature to fully integrate you into the access system so you’re not tripping alarms every time you open a window."
He hands me a pen. A heavy, black Montblanc that’s warm from his pocket.
"Sign at the tabs," he says.
The stack looks thick. Dense text, legal jargon that makes my eyes cross, fills the pages.
Indemnification… liability waiver… property access rights…
"Do I need a lawyer to read this?" I ask, half-joking.
Gabriel doesn't flinch. He walks over and gets himself a glass of water, taking a sip and watching me over the rim. "You can ifyou want. But it’s standard boilerplate. It just says you live here, you’re covered by my insurance, and you have authorized access to the estate. It protects both of us, but you more than me."
He sets the glass down and moves into my space again. Gabriel leans in, one hand bracing on the counter next to the paperwork, the other resting on my hip. His thumb digs into the soft flesh there, distracting me.
"I protect what’s mine. Sign the goddamn papers."
His face is open, earnest in a way Gabriel Hollis rarely is. He’s taking care of me. Making sure I’m safe, that my beat-up car and few possessions are covered, that the security system recognizes me as a resident, not an intruder.
It’s the opposite of everything Ryder’s ever done.
"Okay," I say.
I start signing.
Blair Ashby.Flip.Blair Ashby.Flip.
Page after page. Some of the headers are vague—Power of Attorney for Property Management,Vital Records Authorization.
"What's this one?" I ask, pausing at a document that looks slightly different.
Gabriel leans closer, his chest pressing against my shoulder. His breath is hot against my ear. "That allows my team to handle emergencies if I’m not here. If the house catches fire or the security system fails, you have the authority to act on my behalf. It declares us a singular household unit for legal purposes."
Singular household unit.
What a weird way to phrase it but then again, I don’t speak legalese.
