Storm Redemption Page 11
I whirl toward her. “Judas Priest. Whose side are you on?”
“I’m trying to get to the truth. What are you afraid of?”
I take a deep breath, let it out. “That I’ll lose her. That I’ll bloody lose her.”
“I see.” The third I see. Bollocks. “Let me ask you this, Mr. Storm. Are you and your wife intimate?”
“You don’t really expect me to answer that?”
“Yes. I do. Are you having relations with your wife?”
“She’s living in my sister’s apartment. One floor below ours. Does that answer your question?”
“No. Not really.”
“We had one encounter in our limo. A week ago.”
More scribbling in her notebook.
“You are destroying those notes?”
“Of course. As soon as I’ve jotted them into my computer.”
Like that’s not worse.
“So after your argument, she moved into your sister’s apartment.”
“Yes.”
She looks at her notes and the calendar. “That was over a month ago. What have you done to rekindle your connection with her other than the intimate encounter in the limo?”
“We went out. To an Italian Restaurant. One she chose. It was loud, crowded. No place to hold an intimate conversation. She treated the evening out as a first date.”
“Why?”
“She thought we needed to do things the way normal couples do. Date, get to know each other.” I scoff.
Her stare scrutinizes me. “You didn’t take her request seriously.”
“At the time, it sounded silly to me. It still does.”
“She doesn’t think it’s silly; otherwise she wouldn’t have proposed it. You should consider a second date. Maybe you’ll make some progress this time.”
Her clock beeps which means it’s the end of our session. I stand, button my jacket. “Fine. I’ll do that.”
“Oh, and Gabriel, you might want to send her some flowers. At her job. Even if you don’t fully approve of her employment. It would be a nice gesture on your part.”
When I walk out, rain drums the pavement, and my car’s nowhere in sight. Probably stuck in traffic somewhere. As I pop open my umbrella, I notice a flower shop on the first floor of Dr. Langenfeld’s building. No time like the present to take her advice. Although gardenias are her favorite flowers, it will take too long for the florist to obtain them. So instead I order her other favorite, two dozen yellow roses. Since by now she’s off work, I ask for delivery first thing tomorrow morning. The clerk assures me the flowers will be fresh. I sign the card, ‘All my love, G.’
The rain’s coming down even harder when I gain the outside. Holding an umbrella in one hand and a package in the other, a flustered Dr. Langenfeld stands by the curb trying desperately to catch a taxi.
My car sits idling ten feet away from her. It would seem rude to leave her out in the pounding rain, so I walk up to her and ask “Need a ride?”
“Gabriel. What are you still doing here? You left half an hour ago.”
I point to the flower shop. “I took your advice and ordered flowers for Elizabeth.”
A smile blossoms over her face. “I’m sure she’ll love them.”
“Yes. Can I give you a lift?”
“I shouldn’t accept your offer. What with you being a patient, but I am running late. Do you mind?”
“Of course not. Come.” I tuck my hand against the small of her back and guide her toward my car. On the way, she stumbles. I catch her in time to stop her from hitting the pavement.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
We slide into my car. “There. Much drier in here.”
“Yes. Much.”
“Where to, Mr. Storm?” Travis, my driver, asks from the front seat.
“The Ritz,” Chris answers.
“Right-O.”
At the hotel, paparazzis crowd the entrance.
“Wonder what’s going on?” she asks with worried eyes.
“Probably a celebrity sighting. It is the Ritz.”
The photographers are three thick in front of the entrance. The doorman asks them to step aside, but they ignore him.
As petite as she is, it’ll be hard for her to maneuver her way inside. There’s one thing I must do if I want to call myself a gentleman. “I’m going to escort Dr. Langenfeld until she’s safe within, Travis. Be right back.”
“Yes, Sir.” He nods approvingly.
I help Chris out of the car and make our way through the throng. The click click click of cameras go off as we navigate the mob.
Once safely inside, she turns to me and brushes her hand against my arm. “Thank you, Gabriel. For the ride and for shepherding me through that horde.”
“Don’t mention it. Enjoy your evening out.”
I fight back my way through the crowd but don’t breathe easy until I’m inside the car once more.
“Fucking vultures if you ask me, Mr. S. Pardon the language.”
“No need to apologize. I feel the same way.”
Pulling out into what’s now become a soft, drizzling rain, he heads for home.
The next day, to my surprise, Elizabeth calls me at work. “Gabriel.” Just the sound of her voice hardens me. It’s been so bloody long.
“Hello, darling.”
“The flowers. They’re beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you.”
Her husky laugh reaches into me, turns me inside out.
“Are you doing anything tomorrow night?” Outside of work and her gym, her only appointments are to the hair dresser and the occasional shopping spree, but I have to ask.
“No.”
“I was hoping we could go out on another date.”
For a couple of seconds, there’s silence from her end during which I suffer the fires of the damned. Have I misjudged her frame of mind? Maybe she’s changed her mind about going out on dates. “That would be lovely.”
In relief, I exhale a long-held breath. “Is it, love?”
“Yes. I’ve been hoping you’d ask.”
What a bloody fool I’ve been. All this time she’s been expecting me to take the step, and I’ve been too much of an idiot to see it. “You mentioned bowling once. You still up for that?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll set it up then.”
Chapter 17
______________
Elizabeth
DATE NIGHT. Hopefully, something good will come out of it. We haven’t been intimate since that encounter in the limo and that was much too short. Intense, yes, but not long enough. I’m beginning to doubt the wisdom of staying away from Gabriel’s bed. Every time we run into each other, his nostrils flare, like a stallion smelling a mare in heat. Since I’m probably throwing off some pheromones, I can’t blame him. The self imposed sex ban is driving me bonkers. I can only imagine what it’s doing to him.
Rather than worry about whether we should toss my good intentions out the window and fuck each other’s brains out, I decide to relax and see where the night takes us. I was a fair hand at bowling during college so I intend to enjoy myself.
When we get to the bowling alley, he brings out his own bowling shoes. Figures. Parker would never allow him to slip his feet into something countless other individuals have worn. Since I don’t own my own pair, I rent mine.
He’s reserved our lane and the two next to us. ‘So no one will disturb us.’ Since he brought a whole cadre of security guys who line up facing the other bowling lanes, it’s got to be more a security thing than anything else. Fine. If it makes him happy, I’m all for it.
Bowling with Gabriel seems surreal to me. Such an ordinary thing to do with such an extraordinary man. Like everything else, he’s aces at it. The castle contains an alley where he and his brothers played in their youth. And his school had one as well. So he’s had lots of practice.
“Best two out of three?” I beg after losing the first game.
; “Never let it be said I’m not a sporting man.” But before we start our second game, the bowling alley manager strolls over with a worried look on his face.
The place is packed and the customers are making noises about the unused lanes. Could Gabriel free up a lane? He points to a group of women dressed in low cut tops and tight jeans. The bowling bunnies, the manager’s words not mine, won’t disturb us.
When Gabriel glances in their direction, every last one of them smile and wave.
‘Please say no.’ I whisper.
But Gabriel can’t help being the gentleman he is. He nods and the manager waves the group over. Well, one thing’s for certain. They’re not carrying clandestine weapons. Where would they hide as tight as their clothes are.
Squealing, the four women rush over to introduce themselves. The blonde with the biggest tits practically dislocates her jaw, she’s smiling so hard. The redhead doesn’t bother to smile. She thrusts her cleavage right underneath his nose instead. He sees it, honey.
All politeness, Gabriel assures them it’s not an imposition, and he hopes they enjoy themselves. Finally leaving them behind, he turns to me. Glad he remembered I’m his date for the night.
We settle into our game which I lose badly. How could I even begin to concentrate when every time Gabriel throws a strike, a spare, takes a breath, the bowling bunnies squeal.
“Ooh, you’re so good.” Big tits says. Soon they’re begging him for a lesson. “Could you teach us how to hold the ball? Spot the ball? We’re so bad at this.”
Gabriel being Gabriel strolls to their lane and teaches them the proper hold, lift, bend. While every last one of those hussies wiggles her ass, flashes her tits. If they don’t stop, blood’s going to be shed and it ain’t going to be mine.
After a ten minute lecture on how to appropriately address the bowling lane (whatever that means), Gabriel finally glances in my direction. With that hitch to his step I now find irresistible, he saunters back to our side. “Ready for game three?”
By this time, I’m beside myself. Fuming in our lane, totally ignored by Gabriel, is not my idea of a good time. “No. I want to go home.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I’m not about to reveal how upset I am. Not in front of the bunnies.
He strolls to me, tucks a curl behind my ear. With him showing his back to everyone else, he’s created a private space for us. No one can see my face except for him.
“You’re upset.”
I bite down on my lip. Don’t fall apart, Elizabeth. Not here in public. “I’ve lost both games. One more isn’t going to make a difference. I need to feed Andrew.”
“Nanny can feed him formula. Tonight’s for us.”
My gaze darts up to his. “Really? Wouldn’t know it by your behavior?”
His brows draw close. “What behavior?”
“You going over there.” I nod toward the bunnies’ lane. “Flirting with them.”
“I was not flirting with them. I was teaching them how to bowl.” His gaze lightens up, and his lips quirk into a smile. “You’re jealous.”
“No. I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” He barks out a laugh. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“I’m not jealous.” I am, but I’m not about to admit it.
He pulls me into the steel of his chest. In between kissing me, he whispers, “You don’t have to be jealous of them, you know. None of them hold a candle to you.”
I glance around him at the tramps who’re not a missing a second of the action. Good. Leaning into him, I whisper. “Not even the one with the big tits.” I run my hand down his chest to his erection which is hard as a rock and squeeze.
He moans and his nostrils flare. “Yours are so much better.”
He allows me to stroke him while his breaths harsh and his eyes flare with heat. A few seconds later, his gaze narrows and he curls his hand around my wrist in a silent command to stop his torture. It takes him a couple of beats to regain his composure. “Care to make a wager?” he asks in a raspy growl.
I’m being suckered into something, but curious where his mind is going, I bite. “What do you propose?”
“Whoever loses the next game gets to be the winner’s sex slave for the night.”
Sounds like a win win to me. But do I want to be the master or the slave? Rhetorical question, I know.
I try to lose the third game, but he won’t let me. By the end, he’s literally hurling the ball into the gutter. I end up winning by three points. The bastard.
“Not fair. I wanted to be the sex slave.”
“We can take turns, love. Now what is your first wish, oh mistress of mine.” He brings my hands to his lips and drops a kiss on it.
Predictably, the bowling bunnies sigh in unison. “What a man,” one of them says.
Yeah, and he’s all mine.
On the way home, I curl into his lap. Anticipating the games we’ll enjoy, we play with each other. I lick his lips. He nibbles mine. I stroke his cock. He suckles my breasts. Right through my blouse, leaving wet spots around my nipples. I’m seriously considering another quick fuck in the car when his mobile phone rings. It’s the agent assigned to Andrew. Our son’s spiked a high fever and been taken to emergency care.
We rush to hospital where worried to death we pace the floor while the doctors and nurses do their thing. Finally two hours later, the fever breaks. We arrive home at four in the morning. Worried sick as we are, neither Gabriel nor I want to leave our son’s side.
But he insists. “Go to sleep, Elizabeth. I’ll watch over him.”
“You’ll wake me if . . .” I can’t even voice my worst thoughts.
He jerks up a chin and stares at me out of resolute eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen. I won’t let it.”
Arrogant as always, but this time I’m glad. He’d fight death itself for our son.
Expecting to spend a restless night, I drag myself to our bed. I’m not about to head for Bri’s apartment. If anything were to happen . . . I whimper. No nothing will happen. Gabriel won’t allow it. After tossing and turning and torturing myself with thoughts of what ifs, I finally fall asleep.
I wake up to the cold light day creeping into the room through a chink in the curtains. I hurry to the nursery where Andrew’s sleeping soundly. I touch his forehead with the back of my hand. His brow’s cool to the touch. Thank God.
Gabriel nodded off next to the crib on the rocking chair, with his arm resting on the crib’s mattress and Andrew’s hand in the center of his palm.
Nanny is doing things as quietly as possible around the room. “His lordship fell asleep only five minutes ago.”
He remained awake until Nanny could take over the watch. My heart brims over with love for this man.
When Andrew stirs for his feeding, I touch Gabriel’s shoulder and he comes awake in a snap. “Andrew?”
“He’s fine. Go to bed, Gabriel. Nanny and I will take it from here.”
He kisses Andrew on his soft fussy cheek. But before he slips off to much needed sleep, he asks, “Rain check?”
He hasn’t forgotten the slave boy/slave girl deal. “Rain check.”
Why can’t he be this sweet all the time? After feeding our son, I slip into bed with Gabriel. He tucks me into his side, breathes my scent. “Andrew?”
“He’s fine.”
He relaxes in his sleep. It’s only then I notice how tensed he’d been before I crawled into bed with him.
Chapter 18
______________
Elizabeth
WHEN I ARRIVE AT WORK the following day, my phone message light is on. A call from Trevor Howard, the head of legal. “Good morning, Elizabeth. Can you come down to my office as soon as you get in. There’s something we need to discuss.”
Must be a new assignment since I turned in my most recent analysis on Friday before I left work. Happy to be given a new challenge, I grab my notebook computer and head for his office. But what I find there is the last thing
I expect to see.
“Elizabeth.” As soon as I walk in, Trevor stands up and points to the man seated across the desk from him. “You know Brian Sullivan, of course.”
The shock of seeing Brian steals my breath. “Yes,” comes out in a breathy murmur. Thankfully, Trevor doesn’t notice my unusual mode of speech. But Brian sure does because the son of a bitch smirks.
Following Trevor’s lead, he stands up and offers me his hand. I have no choice but to extend mine as well. Not unless I want to appear rude. Under cover of the handshake, his thumb scrapes my palm and I shiver with distaste.
“Please take a seat, Elizabeth,” Trevor says.
I do making sure it’s not one close to Brian.
“As you know, Brian’s a partner at Smith Cannon, your former law firm.”
“Yes.”
“Well, we’ve hired his firm to represent our interests in the United States for the deal you analyzed.” Even before he mentions it, I know what he’s going to say. “He’ll join us for the weekly meetings revolving around this project, but you’ll be our point person with him. We thought it best to have you liaise with Smith Cannon since you’re so familiar with the firm and Brian. He knows about your part time schedule, so he’ll phone you during your usual hours. Does that work for you?”
“Definitely.” I’m a team player if nothing else. I’ll make it work with the son of a bitch if it kills me.
We spend the rest of the meeting going over the project and the timeline for when things will happen. At the end, Trevor suggests I show Brian my office. Since he’s bound to spend some time here, he’ll need to know where I’m located. “You don’t mind, do you?”
What can I do but agree. “Of course not, Trevor. It will be my pleasure.”
On unsure legs, I walk toward my space. When we get there I point to my door. “Well, here it is. If you need anything, give me a call.”
“I have a question about the project. Maybe we should step inside.”
I can’t appear rude. Not with a couple of secretaries ogling our every move. So I have no choice but to agree. Rather than have him precede me, I walk into the room ahead of him and put the breadth of my desk between us.
Alarm bells go off inside my head when he closes the door behind him.