I step back into the boardroom, chin up, a little swing in my hips.
If Gabriel is going to end things, I’m not going to let him see how fucking bad that’s going to pierce my heart.
Geez, I need to think about something safer. Something that doesn’t make my eyes water and my lungs dangerously close to hyperventilating.
Placing my satchel on the corner of the table, I pivot on the leather soles and cross my arms loosely beneath my breasts.
His gaze skims down the length of me, and there’s a little twitch in his jaw. Good.
So many people are an open book to me. Their desires, obvious. Their tells, easy to discern. But Gabe might as well be aMurder, She Wroteepisode.Other than that momentary interest, he’s unreadable. Which makes me pull my shoulders down and back.
He shuts the door, and my heart stutters.
This feels like a trap.
We’re closed in here. Not just with him, but with all the feelings and the memories and the dreams. The ceaseless questions?—
He turns my way. My pulse skitters at the intense blaze in the blue depths of his eyes. He closes the distance between us, and I back up, ass hitting the edge of the table.
Swallowing again, I realize just how defensive I must look. Dropping my arms, I lace my fingers and keep my expression carefully neutral. Despite the way my stomach swishes back and forth like a dinghy in a hurricane, I force the words out. “What did you want to talk about, Gabriel?”
He huffs. “So, it’s Gabriel now?”
I don’t reply to that, simply lift a brow and wait. It’s an old tactic. Make your opponent talk by waiting them out. Always make them show their cards first.
“First, I was willing to make an insane donation if there were any murmurings of voting you out.”
My silly heart lifts at that. He was?
I’m surprised he thought of it. That his thoughts went in that direction. That he’d come up with acontingency plan. Still, I’m not ready to read too much into his words. I can’t. Words without actions…
I gave in so easily the night after the auction. Falling into the pent-up emotions and the charisma and letting it all go to my head. Even now, it’s hard to keep my hands still when all I want is to slide them beneath that sharp suit jacket and feel the heat of him. All those lean muscles.
“That’s generous of you.”
His lips twist, and he does this side jerking motion with his chin, as if he’s stretching his neck because he’s uncomfortable.
“It’s the least I can do, Princess.”
My body reacts instantly to the name. Just like earlier, there’s a wild combination of longing and aversion. “Don’t?—”
“Don’t?”
“Don’t call me that,” I say. But what I really want to add is, don’t make me feel like you still care. Like I have a place in your life when you’re pulling away.
“Okay.”
That’s it?
Okay?
No fighting for it? No sharp comment. Just an easy acquiescence.
It takes every bit of bitter determination to stay standing when my knees feel like they could giveout. Like my whole body just wants to dissolve into the carpet and forget this whole month ever happened.
Except I never want to forget that King and I finally got out of our own way. I never want to forget the way Alex stepped up, strode into my life, and became the tower of strength I needed.
“What do you want, Gabriel?”
