I guess that’s a no, then.
“I won’t force her to stay.” Maverick takes a step backwards.
“Come home, Delilah.” It’s less of a request and more of an order.
My nails bite into my palms. “I—”
The screen goes black.
“Gabriel?” I click the mousepad, then the spacebar.
Nothing.
“Time to go.” Maverick closes the laptop and shoves it into his bag, along with its power cord.
“What happened?” I ask. My heart’s still pounding, but I feel less like I’m going to hurl.
“We lost the signal.” Maverick puts the backpack on. “Come on, we gotta go.”
“Go where?”
“Anywhere but here.” He grabs Benji’s sleeping bag and camp chair from the tent, then starts breaking it down. In a matter of minutes, everything’s rolled and packed neatly.
“How many times have you done this?” I ask, still processing the video call.
“Enough,” Maverick grunts, sweat lining his brow. He trudges a few yards away where a worn tarp is covering something. He pulls the blue material off to reveal an old ATV, and after a few tries, he manages to start it up before he gets to work strapping everything—even the small generator—to the back with bungee cords. He gets on, leaning forward and revving the engine a few times. “Hop on.”
I stare at him, stunned.
“Please.” Maverick’s eyes bore into mine.
I take a deep breath before walking over and swinging my leg over the vehicle, wrapping my arms around his muscular torso tight enough to cut off his oxygen.
I feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he chuckles. “Hang on tight.”
Gabriel
Present Day
“A disobedient wife shall be punished by her husband in accordance with the severity of her infraction. Should misbehavior continue, the Brotherhood reserves the right to reassign the wife to a more suited husband.”—LAWS OF MARRIAGE, N.A.L. 5 § 2
“Goddammit!” I slam the laptop shut and hurl my scotch against the wall, the glass shattering into a thousand tiny pieces.
She’s with Maverick.My wife—my rightful property—is with the one man who’s trying to destroy everything I’ve built.
“Maid!” I yell, smoothing my hair back and straightening my suit.
The old wench hurries into my office. “Yes, sir?”
I snap my fingers. “Clean this up.”
“Right away, my lord.”
She immediately drops to her knees and starts picking up the shards of glass by hand, and the sight brings me a small sense of peace. I leave her in the office and head downstairs, grabbing the keysto the Jaguar. Normally, I would have Brother Paul drive me in the SUV, but I don’t have time for that today.
I pull out of the garage and speed down the driveway, winding through the forested roads toward the capital. The other high lords gave me twenty-four hours to fix the problem on my own, and that time is about to expire.
When I woke up two days ago to find Delilah missing from the hotel, I was angry—rightfully so—but I just assumed she had Paul drive her home. We’d had a fight, after all, and Delilah’s always so goddamn sensitive, especially about her failure to get pregnant. So I spent the day in bed with my favorite whore—Angie? Angel?Who the fuck cares what her name is, she gives incredible head. And since I thought Delilah abandoned me at my own party, I took my sweet time fucking her each and every way I pleased.
