She cocked her head and then, slowly, she smiled. “Yes. I’m the one who holds the purse strings…so, yes.”
“What about what he wants?” I was shaking inside. Shaking and half-sick with anger and a shame that I knew was unfounded. So what if I wasn’t from the New York elite, or from some family that could trace its roots back a few hundred years? My parents loved me. They had worked hard to provide for me. There was nothing to be ashamed of about that. Yet this woman was trying her best to make me feel substandard. Screw that.
Oh, but she was good. Even as I pulled together the ragged edges of my dignity, she moved forward and reached up, brushing my hair back from my face. “You can’t even be there for him now in the way that he needs, Gabriella. Can’t you see that? He needed a partner with him and you’d rather run around chatting with his brother than stand at his side. What do you think you can possibly do for him that a dozen other women can’t do better?”
I swallowed.
Then, slowly, stepping back out of reach, I met her eyes.
“I can love him.”
I didn’t look at her as I cut around her and started to walk. Maybe it was luck or maybe it was some weird twist of fate, but this time, I found my way to the front of the house. I’d sent a text to Paul as I wound my way through the elegant labyrinth and he was there, waiting for me.
Half falling into the back of the car, I whispered, “Take me home, Paul.”
“To the mansion, Miss Gabriella?”
I huddled into myself. “No.” Tears stung my eyes. “I need to go to my home, Paul. The mansion isn't home.”
Eight
The boss from hell was on vacation, but that didn't mean I was. She'd left me with a list of projects and assignments I was supposed to have completed by the time she got back. Oh, and she'd left instructions for periodic updates. At least, I was able to work from home.
It was Monday morning and I was halfway through the second assignment, which I considered being ahead of the game. I'd gotten the first one done last night since I'd ended up getting home early from the party and hadn't spent the night with Edward as I'd previously planned.
I was also now the proud owner of a raging headache. That's what happened when you stayed up too late working and switching between swearing, crying yourself silly and hating on your future mother-in-law.
So far, the morning was going better than last night. I'd managed to keep Claire and her ugly words mostly out of my head and I thought I almost had a handle on this. I could be rational…maybe. And I needed to be rational, because I still had to talk to Edward.
He hadn’t called last night.
I’d gotten home a little before nine and I’d waited, half-expecting him to call to make sure I was okay. But even as I'd busied myself with the assignment my boss had wanted first, I'd kept eying my phone. It'd had plenty of bars on it, and the battery had been full, because I’d plugged it in when I got home.
But there had been no call.
And so far this morning, there'd still been no call.
It hurt. It hurt a lot. It also pissed me off, getting under my skin in ways I couldn’t describe. Why hadn’t he called? When had he finally noticed I was missing? He'd order my food, give me a credit card to make sure I had clothes to wear for his party, but he couldn't pay enough attention to me at the party to notice I was gone.
Then I felt like an idiot, because he wouldn’t have had to have noticed. Paul would have called him right away. He probably would have sent a text at some point, probably while we were still making our way into the city. Paul would've passed along the half-truth I'd given him about not feeling well.
Still, why hadn’t he called to see how I was feeling?
“Stop it.” I ground the heel of my hand against my forehead and squeezed my eyes shut. “Focus, Gabriella.”
The figures on the screen blurred together and I got up to pace. I finally forced myself into the head of one of the characters I’d been creating. It took a while, but after what felt like a hundred circuits across the living room, I finally felt centered.
Returning to the desk, I sat down and told myself I wouldn't even look at my phone for at least an hour. Putting it all out of my head, I got a little more work done on the research my boss was torturing me with. A glance at the clock had me thinking I just might get it done before ten. At nine-twenty, the phone rang.
I grabbed it, certain it was Edward.
It wasn't.
“Tennessee.” Flynn’s voice was low, smooth and did bad, bad things to my mental state.
Immediately, my mind flashed back yesterday and how I'd seen his hands running over that woman’s body. He’d stroked one hand up her spine and tangled it in her hair, using it to tug her head up and back as he'd pounded into her. I could too clearly recall how he'd been so insanely silent, even as she made low, almost delirious sounds of pleasure as he'd driven inside her.
“What do you want?” The question came out sharper than I'd intended. I rubbed my temples and pushed back from the kitchen table I had turned into a makeshift desk for the morning. I sighed. “Sorry. Rough night. What do you need, Flynn?’
“Oh, a lot of things. But that’s not why I’m calling. I’m calling to tell you that your photo shoot was a total success. The client loved the pictures I sent her. She ended up buying a couple of different prints. I’m glad we ended up changing out your wardrobe a few times.”
I was still stuck back on the total success part of his comments.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Your photo shoot. You kicked ass, Tennessee.”
“That’s…” I stood, pressing a hand to my belly. It was jumping around like crazy. At least this time it was good crazy stuff. Well, good and completely nerve-wracking. “That’s what I thought you said.”
Flynn’s chuckles made my already wobbly knees feel a little weaker. “So my client ended up with two prints: one for an upcoming book and one for the one she’s planning next.”
The disbelief was giving away to excitement. “You’re serious.”
“Yeah. Yeah, really.”
I could hear the smile in his voice and it was contagious. Spinning away from the table, I shoved a hand through my hair and started to pace. I'd never in a million years thought someone would want the photos. No matter what Flynn had said, I'd never truly believed that I was model material.
He continued. “If you’re open to the idea, I can do some magic and edit the other images. Some I kept aside so she wouldn’t choose them and then I’ve got the ones she wasn’t interested in. It’s a decent enough selection. I can put them up on my gallery and offer them as stock photos.”
“Ah…stock photos?” I stopped.
“Yeah. And I’ll pay you for them. If anybody wants exclusive rights, then that’s an extra fee.” He was quiet for just a moment and then he came back with a figure that I was sure I'd misheard.
“What’s that for?” I rubbed my chest. I was finding it hard to breathe.
“For putting them up on the stock website. If anybody buys exclusive rights, then you get another cut. What do you think?”
What did I think? “I don’t know. Um…yeah. Sure.” The extra money would be more breathing room, right? “I mean, you’ve cropped my face out, right?”
“Sure thing, baby.” There was nothing but swaggering confidence in his voice. “I’ll have to get a new contract out to you. Okay, now that we’ve done that, the other reason I called, how about setting up another session?”
Another session? “What?”
“Look, you and Cody are great together. You’ve got natural curves on you and the book world is looking for that right now. I’ve got a stable of models I usually stick with and I’ve been needing some new blood—you’re it. Come on, Tennessee…one more shoot. I’ll pay double what the last shoot went for.”
Double—
Shit.
To be honest, I was already way too interested, but I needed to be smart and keep my distance from
Flynn. The money, however, was making me think twice about being smart. “Look, I’ll think about it, okay?”
“Do that. We’ll talk.” There was a pause, and then he added, “Hope you're feeling better.” He hung up and I stood there, staring at the phone like I’d never seen it before.
Blowing out a breath, I put the phone back down and looked back at the computer screen. I started to sink back down into my chair, but I never had the chance to get all the way there. The buzzer from the front of the building went off.
A moment later, after I’d hit the button, Edward’s voice drifted up to me. “Gabriella, may I come up?”
I looked down at the t-shirt and yoga pants and sighed. We were getting married. He'd see me like this eventually. Might as well be now. “Yeah, come on up.”
I made a halfhearted attempt to clean up the mess I’d made from the morning, coffee cups, my breakfast of granola and yogurt. I was reconsidering my decision about changing, but before I had the chance, he knocked.
I opened the door and the smile on his face faltered slightly when he saw me. “You’re still sick.”
“No.” I frowned.
His gaze slid down a little lower and I found myself shuffling my feet. My yoga pants and t-shirt were perfectly decent for lounging around the house and since I hadn’t planned to leave anytime in the next few hours, I didn’t see the problem. Yet I found myself squirming and uncomfortable.
Moving aside, I waved him in. Edward came in slowly and looked around, his gaze lingering on the wide open studio, the murphy bed where Kendra slept, the sofa bed that I'd already made up and tucked away. “Welcome to my humble abode,” I said, forcing a smile.
He turned to me. “Why didn’t you come find me last night? If I’d have known you were sick, I would have left with you. You didn’t have to come back here.”
Back here…? Like it was some friend's place where I was crashing out of desperation?
His gaze slid back around the studio. It was a lovely place in my opinion, but I guess I could see where it was lacking by his standards. Hell, pretty much anything short of Buckingham Palace would be lacking compared to what he was used to. I suddenly felt embarrassed by my little home.
“I live here,” I said softly. When he looked back at me, I shrugged and turned away, fighting back the feelings I didn't want. “I’m not sick. I had an awful headache and I just needed…” Claire’s words came back to me in a rush and I moved over to my desk, busying myself with straightening things up so I didn't have to look at him. “It was a lot to take in, Edward. Besides, you looked like you were doing just fine by yourself. It’s not like you needed me.”
“Gabriella, I don’t know what you mean.”
I turned back to him, the misery from yesterday rushing forward and I couldn't hold back. “You tell me that, sooner or later, I need to get comfortable with that sort of thing and then you take me to that party and basically abandon me. I knew five people—six if you included Paul, but it wasn’t like he was invited. Your mother hates me. Your step-dad tolerates me. Flynn spent the entire evening flirting, and you hunted me down one time. I spent the entire time talking to Cody and the one time I did find you, you made it absolutely clear that I wasn’t precisely welcome.”
By the time I finished, I was breathing hard and Edward was staring at me in dismay. “Sweetheart…”
I held up my hands and shook my head. I so wasn't in the mood. “Don’t.” Turning away, I stared out the window.
Edward came up behind me and I could see the reflection of his apologetic face in the pane of glass. I didn't look at him, but when his hands covered my shoulders, I let him tug me back against him.
“It would seem I messed up, didn’t I?” he said, his voice low as he slid his hands down my arms. His breath caressed my neck.
As he wrapped his arms around my waist, I tried to let myself relax.
“I’m sorry, Gabriella.”
It made it easier, but I was still hurting.
Easing around in his arms, I looked up at him and tried to smile. It wasn’t a real smile, but it was close. “I just…I didn’t feel comfortable unless you or Cody were with me. I know I can’t constantly have somebody with me, but it was the first time I was there and my fiancé wasn't even the one who introduced me to people.”
“You weren’t comfortable. I should have done better.” He stroked his hands down my arms then back up. His gaze slid back down to my t-shirt and he rubbed the hem of the sleeve between his thumb and forefinger. “Why don’t you let me make it up to you? I’ll take you to lunch, we can go shopping…”
I pulled away, easing out of his grasp. Crossing my arms over my chest, I moved over to the narrow slice that comprised most of the counter space in the kitchen. Easing my hips against it, I focused on the work spread out in front of me. “You don’t need to buy me things, Edward.”
“But I enjoy buying things for you.” He started toward me, but when I tensed, he stopped. “Gabriella, what is this?”
“I don’t need you to buy me things.” I gestured to the apartment. “I’ve been taking care of myself ever since I got up here and I’m doing a pretty decent job of it.”
“I never thought otherwise. I just like—”
“Buying me things. I know.” My gaze landed on the computer, on the assignment from the lousy boss that paid so little and I knew that if it wasn’t for the money I’d gotten from Flynn, right now I wouldn’t be doing much to contribute to the rent. Kendra was doing fine now that she was getting money in from her modeling, but me…?
“Gabriella, I just…we’re going to be married. Why is it a bad thing for me to like taking care of you?”
“I don’t need to be taken care of!” I shouted.
He stiffened. “Gabriella, I’m sorry. I know you’re independent and I love that about you. But…” He gestured toward my clothing. “In a few months, you’ll be my wife. How can you afford the clothing you’ll need with the job you have now? You won’t even let me help you find a better paying one—”
I shoved myself off the counter, his comment about affording the clothing I'd need to be with him putting me on edge. “I found a better job, thank you very much.”
“Did you?” He angled his head to the side. His features softened and the smile in his eyes made some of the anger inside me fade. He was happy for me.
When he stepped closer this time, I didn’t move away. He cupped my face and pressed a kiss to my mouth. He lifted up just a little and studied me before lowering his head again.
The second kiss was deeper, slower, hotter. His tongue swept my mouth, claiming it, and then his hands were at my waist, pulling at my shirt. I lifted my arms to help him, the anger inside coalescing into something else. Something just as intense and just as hot, but much more enticing. He shoved his hands inside my yoga pants, pushing them down below my hips. His lips slid down my neck and I gasped as he sucked a patch of skin into his mouth and bit down lightly.
“I want you,” he muttered. “I’ve missed…Gabriella. Now.”
“Ummm…”
When he spun me around, I gripped the counter in my hands. I made a halfhearted swipe at the curtains, closing them, while behind me, I heard his zipper coming down. He drove inside me, thick and hard and full. I moaned and twisted my hips back against him, trying to take him deeper as he withdrew. I wasn't prepared at all, barely wet from his kisses. It hurt, but felt so good at the same time.
Then he drove inside me again and I had to bite my bottom lip to keep from crying out. Pain and pleasure coursed through me and I slid my hand between my thighs, seeking out my clit as he continued to stroke deep, deep inside me. His fingers dug into my hips, half-lifting and hauling me back to meet each stroke. I clenched down around him and heard a low, harsh noise escape his throat. My thighs were shaking. Heat spread out from my pussy, rolling through me like waves and I knew it was going to overtake me, shatter me.
He swelled inside me, the head of his thick shaft rasping against me i
n the best way and I couldn't hold back the half-strangled cry this time. He groaned and hauled me back down on his cock. The roughness of it sent me straight into orgasm. He followed only seconds later, buried deep inside me.
“So where is your job?”
Edward stroked a hand down my hair.
We were sitting on the couch, him in a suit that was now somewhat rumpled and me in a t-shirt and clean panties.
I swallowed, thinking back to the stupidity that had driven me to tell him I had a job. What I had was a job offer. One that involved taking my clothes—or at least most of them—off in front of his brother. Edward wouldn’t like it. In fact, he'd hate it. It didn’t matter that it was for something like book covers or that a lot of people would think that it was kind of awesome. I was still kind of baffled by it.
“Gabriella?”
I made a distracted sound under my breath and then looked up at him. “Hey, why don’t we go out to lunch? I’m getting kind of hungry.” I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and then stood up. “Let me go change.”
Once I had some clothes in hand and the bathroom door shut behind me, I silenced my phone and then pulled up Flynn’s number.
Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll be your model as long as you never show my face.
A few seconds passed before his response came up.
That’s not always going to work, Tennessee. I’ll have clients who will need a woman’s face.
I snorted.
Then work your magic and photoshop somebody else’s face onto my body or something. Besides, you said it yourself…it’s not my face you’re interested in.
I was smiling when he replied.
You win, Tennessee.
He told me a time and a place. I deleted the messages and put the phone down, then busied myself with getting ready.
I'd decide what to do about my asshole boss and shitty job later.
Nine
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like some wine?” Edward leaned toward me and brushed my hair out of my face.