Tonight, she seemed destined for the same—maybe minus the tears.
“Actually, sir. I’m not feeling great,” she said then lifted her glass. “After this, I’m heading home.”
“Are you okay to drive?”
“Yes, it’s just a little stomach thing.” Another lie.
He held her gaze longer then left, muttering, “Langston’s a damn fool.”
Gaby swiveled on her stool to hop down. But couldn’t seem to do it. To get her keys, she had to go into the house, through the lounge, which was where she’d last seen Rhys emerging from the back hall that led to the theme and playrooms.
He wasn’t alone. Wrapped in his arms, clinging to his neck, body pressed full against his, he carried a woman to an aftercare couch. A bare thigh peeked out from beneath the blanket she was swathed in. His hand splayed wide over her back, steady, strong, and protective. He gave that care easily—to someone else—which speared straight through Gaby’s heart.
There had been no promises between them for more than a scene. But seeing another woman wrapped around him as if she belonged there—as if she’d earned that care, that closeness—cut deep. Too deep.
He’d moved on. Clearly.
So, why couldn’t she?
A sudden pang twisted in her chest. Was this all some twisted white-knight fantasy because he’d swooped in on a mission gone wrong and saved her? Was she confusing trauma bonding with longing?
Did it change the fact that her wanting was all one-sided? Not even a little. She should’ve known better than to look for him where truth and illusion had once blurred so dangerously together.
Gaby drained her ginger ale in two swallows. She hopped down from the stool, likely for the last time. She doubted she’d be back. Not after tonight.
No one stopped her as she crossed the backyard and slipped into the shadows along the side of the house. The path led past the labyrinth, which held nothing but painful memories. Sounds filtered through the tall hedges—laughter, moans, the occasional playful shout.
That hadn’t been her experience. All she remembered was hiding and licking her wounded pride after Rhys’s public rejection.
She hurried faster. Desperate to be out of there. Her plan was to circle around to the front and grab her keys unnoticed.
“Gaby.”
She stopped, closing her eyes. Damn it. She’d been so close.
With a deep steadying breath, she turned. Devil stood in the circle of torchlight near the maze entrance, arms folded, measuring her with uncomfortable insight.
She pasted on a neutral expression, or at least she tried to. “I was just heading out.”
“I see that.” He studied her for a moment, then his dark eyes pinned her with a question. “Why are you here?”
That threw her. “I… uh… thought membership was a benefit of employment.”
“It is. But not everyone takes advantage. Usually, just those in the lifestyle.”
She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “I made friends while I was here and was beginning to feel comfortable,” she replied, avoiding his point.
She wasn’t in the lifestyle. She had stepped into it for a reason. With Rhys, she had thought maybe… but now she wasn’t sure.
“I’d hoped to unwind after a long week.”
Unsurprisingly, his brows lifted. Her excuse, even to her, sounded pathetic.
“You can unwind in dozens of places, Gaby. Bars. Restaurants. At home.” He let that settle. “So, let me ask again. Why are youreallyhere?”
Her mouth opened. Closed. An odd squeaky noise came from her throat before she could stop it.
“You don’t have to bleed for him in public to prove anything to anyone,” Dev insisted, his measured words landing harder than any accusation.
