On Gabi 2.0.
CHAPTER 3
MADDOX
Ihave no idea who this woman is, but I’m pretty sure I’m in love.
Where’d she come from? One minute I’m doing what the song tells me to do, and that’s asking the crowd where my Sally’s at tonight, and next thing you know, I see her dancing through the swarm of people, eyes trained on me, not giving a fuck as she works her way through a crowd that never stood a chance against her.
Fuck, yeah, gorgeous. Get up here. Come and dance with me.
When I heard this song earlier today, I knew I had to put it on the celebration request sheet. I mean, it’s a catchy-as-fuck song guaranteed to draw the right kind of attention from the right kind of company. But never in my wildest dreams did I expectherto come up on stage.
I’m grinning like a fool as I keep singing, and thank God I know all the words or I’d be a blabbering idiot right now. I might know all the lyrics, but I have a feeling she doesn’t. In fact, I can tell she doesn’t— nor has she seen the viral videos with this song—because at this point everyone always does something to their head signaling a headache. But this woman? Nope. She’sdancing around, living in the moment. Doing her own fucking thing.
It’s hot as hell.
Of course it is, because her energy is matching her looks in every way. Her dark reddish-brown hair is shining under the lights of the stage. Her face is a little flushed, making her porcelain skin rosy. Her body is perfectly proportioned, with delicious curves in all the right places—and each of those is being hugged by a sparkly little black dress that I’m pretty sure was made to put men in a coma.
Me. I’m men.
But what does me in is her smile. The way I can clearly tell she doesn’t give a flying fuck about anything right now. She’s literally glowing as she dances around on stage. That’s a turn-on if I’ve ever seen one.
“Sing with me!” I yell to the crowd as the last chorus of the song plays. I never ask for crowd participation unless the song explicitly calls for it. But this time I’ll take all the help I can get, because if I’m not singing, that means I can pull this beauty in and dance with her. It’s nothing explicit—the last thing I need is for the Fury’s PR department having to deal with photos coming out tomorrow of me inappropriately dancing with strangers in Vegas—but I do take her hand and pull her in. I settle my leg between hers, letting me pull her in close as I channel my inner Johnny Castle as we both feel the music. My hand is resting on the small of her back, and in this moment, our eyes are locked. There’s no one else in this bar except us. I can tell the song is coming to an end, so I take her hand and spin her out, before pulling her back in as the final note of the song plays.
“I don’t know where you came from, but please don’t leave yet.”
Our chests are touching, and our eyes are locked. I had no idea what tonight was going to entail. If I know anything fromVegas trips in the past, is that you can never fully prepare for the night.
And I know for a fucking fact I wasn’t prepared for her.
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
Her voice is breathy as we each come down from the adrenaline rush. But her eyes are wide as they blink rapidly; I’m guessing she’s realizing what happened up here. I smile, and resist the sudden urge to kiss her, as I step away, remembering that I’m still on stage with hundreds of people in the crowd. Luckily, the DJ comes up on stage and saves the day.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Put your hands together for the Fury’s starting safety, Maddox Gallagher!”
I wave to the crowd and bring the mic back up.
“Thank you all! But don’t just give it up for me. Let’s give a round of applause to…”
Shit. How do I not know my future wife’s name?
“What’s your name?” I ask as I lean in, her soft, floral perfume hitting my senses.
“Gabi.”
“Let’s give it up for Gabi!” I hold up her hand like she won a prize fight as every patron of the bar goes wild, cheering for both of us as we take our bows. I still have hold of her hand as we make our way down the small stairs, my other hand on the small of her back as I lead her down to the floor.
“Thanks for not kicking me off stage,” she says with a laugh. “That was fun.”
“Kick you off? Did you think I was going to?”
She shrugs but also at the same time gives me the most gorgeous smile I’ve ever seen in my life. The fact that it’s highlighted by a red lip makes it just as sexy as it is sweet. “I was a strange woman inviting myself on stage with a man I’ve never met. You totally had the right to.”
I shake my head and take a step closer. “I believe in a world with multiple universes and timelines. And in none of those worlds, or in any of those timelines, would I have ever kicked you off that stage.”
Her jaw drops slightly at my statement—which is the most truthful thing I’ve maybe ever said—as… something passes between us. Does she feel it? Or is it just me taking in every exciting and thrilling emotion that this night has had to offer?
