“Arthur, I don’t know what you’re thinking violating our agreement. Do you know you could have jeopardized the entire job?”
“Mr. Winston?”
“Yeah, who else do you think it is?”
“Sorry, Mr. Winston. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Winston laughed. “Then you better talk to your girlfriend. We asked you to wipe social media because we want to keep our drops off quiet until we are done. You should know it could put you in danger to have it branded about when you’re going to leave. We also asked you not to post about us publicly because we don’t want bad press coming for us. What we’re doing is very specific, and we’re up against our competition. With that info, they can scan the flights leaving today and trace it back to us. Sorry Arthur, but you can’t be on this flight out.”
Gabe’s mouth went dry. “I don’t understand.”
Gabe’s stomach twisted. The throbbing in his head intensified.
“Check your girlfriend’s social media post. Too bad. You would have been perfect for this job.” With that, he hung up. Gabe rapt his knuckles hard on the counter.
He stalked over to Ivy’s desk and flipped open her laptop. She was always logged in, so he quickly scrolled to her feeds.
What the fuck did she do?
He blinked, trying to make sense of what he saw. A profile he never created in his name. A post by Ivy that tagged him. His mouth went dry. A glossy selfie mocked him. She kneeled on the edge of the bed, holding a pair of fuzzy handcuffs.
The caption read,“Looking forward to a night with my Dom @GabeArthur before he starts an exciting new job with Ribbon of Aid.”
His head buzzed, his hand curled into a fist. He was sure he’d sail it through the wall.
“Fuck.”
What was she thinking? They just talked about how much he hated her posting anything personal online.
Unbelievable. He had signed on with Ribbon Aid, and she didn’t like it, so she went and sabotaged it?
Was she so consumed with her job, crafting made-up narratives, that she couldn’t separate them from reality? She had to mess about in his stuff, just for the hell of it?
His anger rolled through him like a pounding drum. His neck throbbed, the migraine pulsing at his temples. He thought of going into the bedroom, gripping her by the throat, demanding an explanation, but he knew his urge to do that was hollow.
She didn’t put him before what she wanted and didn’t respect him. How could he be her Dom? How could they even stay together?
The tap in the bathroom caught his attention, and he marched down the hall. Ivy opened the door, her face awash with surprise.
“Gabe, why are you still here? Did you oversleep?”
“No, I didn’t oversleep. I’m here because you got what you wanted.”
He crowded her, pushing her against the bathroom door.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been fired from Ribbon Aid because of your post.”
Her face drained of colour; she placed a hand on his arm. He shook it off. “Gabe, I know you’re upset right now, but you’ll see it’s for the best. I know you don’t like me posting online...”
“Like it? I told you not to fucking do it. And you couldn’t obey, could you?” His hand snagged at her gold chain, his collar around her throat.
“Gabe, you were so determined to go on this job. You didn’t listen to me that these were bad people.”
“Do you think I’m stupid? You don’t think I would have done my research, read the contract and decided?” He pulled the chain. Her hands came over his, her eyes wide with shock.
“I don’t think you’re stupid. Of course not.”
