Gabriella leans on the bar, her copper curls lying over one shoulder of her black dress. There’s a man beside her, he looks familiar, but I can’t figure out from where. He’s definitely not the older man she was with the other night in the hotel lobby.
She motions for the bartender, a young bloke, who serves her in a flash. As she leans in whispering in his ear, his eyes drop momentarily to her low-cut neckline.
As she pulls back with a sway in her stance, I know well enough she’s drunk.
What the fuck is this woman thinking?
The man beside her latches onto her arm, pulling her onto the small area where others are dancing. His hand wraps carelessly around her waist.
Yeah, I’ve fucking seen enough.
I burst through the crowd, swerving in and out without a single apology. This is a déjà-fucking-vu moment. The first night I met Gabriella, I was doing the exact same thing.
“Get off her, mate,” I seethe.
Gabriella’s mouth slackens, her hands dropping to her sides as she distances herself from this fucker. “How did you know I was here?”
“Never mind. Let’s go.” I latch onto her arm, ignoring her only slight struggle.
“No, Oliver. We are not doing this again.”
“Sorry, sweetheart. The second you texted me, you left me with no choice.”
I could have sworn her arm relaxed within my tight grip, or perhaps it’s her non-verbal stare which tells me otherwise.
“Gabriella,” the fucker calls. “You can’t leave me here?”
The guy looks pissed. Serves him fucking right.
“Sorry, Byron.”
Outside, in the cool night air, the pale face haunts me. With possibly only seconds to spare, I push her down the alley.
“Ow,” she yells, almost stumbling to the ground. “Why the hell did you push me?”
“You’re gonna hurl.”
“I’m not going to hurl.” She straightens her posture, letting out a drawn-out breath. “It’s just spinning.”
I grab her hand, dragging her to the main street. The walk’s not far, but somehow, I need to get her to my apartment.
Walking in the Quay with an intoxicated woman is now officially my least favorite thing to do. The amount of times we stop is ridiculous. Gabriella has the need to stop and stare at everything, have almost three near-vomiting incidents, and still continues to wave hello to everyone who walks past and calls them mate.
Inside my apartment, I lay her on the sofa, placing two painkillers and glass of water beside her. Forcing her to drink it, she does so but mumbles something about being ungrateful, then accidentally spills water on her dress.
I grab a spare tee, demanding she change into it to be more comfortable. She argues, of course, until I lift her dress above her head, leaving Gabriella in her bra and panties.
Don’t fucking look.
Quickly, I place the tee on her, controlling my own desires and more so worried about her.
She instantly falls asleep. I sit on the chair beside her, silently watching her sleep. Every so often, she blinks her eyes, allowing her eyelashes to flutter like wings. I am mesmerized by her beauty, her flawless skin, and the colorful pink of her lips. I ache to run my fingers along her bottom lip, press my mouth against hers, and taste her sweet tongue against my own.
But I know the second I touch her—all walls will come crumbling down again.
I didn’t sleep a wink, watching her until the sun begins to rise. Her face twitches, and she begins to move, opening her eyes at a slow pace and shifting her glance to where I sit still watching her.
“Did you… why am I half-naked?”
“Relax, you’re wearing my T-shirt, and it’s because you spilled water on your dress.
She stands, only to spin in a circle before falling onto the sofa.
“Drink this.”
“No.”
“Stop being stubborn.”
“Chance’s drink is—”
“Awful, but does the trick,” I remind her.
Raising the glass to her lips, she drinks the whole glass, almost appearing pale as the liquid disappears. Moments later, her color comes back.
“What… what happened last night?” she asks faintly.
“Do you really want me to tell you?”
“Argh… no. Spare me the humility.” She closes her eyes, only to open them wide, panicked. “Wait, what time is it? My flight!”
“Relax,” I tell her. “You’ve got hours. It’s five in the morning.”
“Five?” She drops her head to the pillow, closing her eyes again. “I feel so…” She doesn’t end her sentence, lying perfectly still. I suspect she’s fallen asleep, and I watch her tiny breaths increasing slowly. But moments later, she opens her eyes again and stares blankly at the ceiling.
My lips press together in a slight grimace. There’s so much history between us, so much damage which feels irreparable.
Struggling to find the right words, I sit in silence until I can no longer wait.
“Tell me what happened… after you left my hotel that night?”
She shuffles, leaning on her side. Letting out a sigh, she pulls the blanket to her chest and clutches onto it. “I told my father I wanted out. He threatened me, called me a disgrace. Warned me I’d have nothing. So, I agreed to marry Sebastian. I was terrified of having nothing.”
“You married him?”
“I left him at the altar… I can’t explain it. Seeing him, then Aubrey and Chance, I knew I couldn’t live the lie any longer. I was miserable.”
My muscles become rigid beneath my dress shirt, the revelation a complete shock. “Then what happened?”
“True to Father’s word, I was shunned. Got on a plane and stayed with Aubrey and Chance. He froze my accounts, disconnected my phone, all within hours of me walking away.”
“So, you live in Hermosa Beach?”
“Yes, in your old room.” She smiles faintly. “I’m working at a law firm, helping out with admin stuff, and at nights I work some shifts at a bar near the beach. Just keeping myself busy and trying to save enough to move out.”
It’s so much information to take in. She had finally done it, learned how to stand on her own two feet. I’m fucking proud of her, but
