Rush (Breathless #1)

Rush (Breathless #1) Page 41

He frowned. Was she coming down with a bug? Thinking back, she’d been fine before she’d gone out to get their lunch. Sunny, bright and smiling. Cheerful. As beautiful as she always was. It scared the shit out of him just how dependent he’d become on her presence in his office. How integral a part of his day she was. Most people needed coffee in the mornings. He just needed Mia.

As he leaned closer to her, intending to feel her for signs of fever, he saw that her eyes were red and puffy and blotchy. As if she’d been…crying. What the hell?

What could have happened? What wasn’t she telling him? He was tempted to wake her and demand to know what the hell was wrong, but he didn’t want to disturb her. She looked tired. Deep shadows rested underneath her eyes. Had she looked this tired the night before? Had he been too hard on her? Too demanding? Was he the reason she was sick?

Dread pitted his stomach. Was this relationship too much for her? He couldn’t even promise to ease up, to back off. Instead of time begetting distance, with every passing day she became more of an overwhelming need within him. Time would only sharpen his desperation for her. Not alleviate it. He’d been a fool to ever think allowing another man to touch her would somehow prove that he wasn’t emotionally dependent on her. That it wouldn’t bother him.

He still wanted to beg her forgiveness every time his mind went back to that night in Paris. She’d already forgiven him, but just remembering had the power to take him to his knees.

He wasn’t worthy of her. He knew this well. But damned if he had the power to do the right thing and let her go. It would destroy him.

Checking his watch, he frowned. He was later getting home than he’d intended. It was close to the dinner hour and he wondered if she’d even eaten her takeout. He walked into the kitchen to find his answer on the counter. The bag was untouched. The box inside unopened. He cursed softly. She needed to eat.

He rummaged in his cabinets for a can of soup. His housekeeper kept the staples on hand for him, and he gave her a shopping list on Fridays for any weekend cooking he thought to do. But the simple matter was, he wasn’t home often enough to keep a fully stocked pantry.

After deciding he had nothing suitable, he picked up the phone and called down to the concierge to tell him what he required. After being assured the matter would be taken care of immediately, Gabe hung up and searched the medicine cabinet for a thermometer and appropriate medication.

The only problem was, he wasn’t certain what she was sick with. Or if she was running any fever. It could be a cold. Could be a stomach bug. How was he supposed to know until he could ask her?

Deciding it could wait until she awakened—he wanted her to rest as long as she needed—he walked quietly back into the living room. The blanket had slid down, uncovering the upper half of her body, so he pulled it back up and tucked the ends around her. Then he kissed her forehead, feeling for any sign of fever.

She was warm, but not overly so. Her respirations seemed fine.

He went to the fireplace, turned up the flame and then disappeared into his room to change into more comfortable clothing while he waited for Mia’s soup to be delivered.

There was plenty of work to be done—he’d left right after his meeting and he still had financials to go over in preparation for his meeting with Jace and Ash to discuss the construction bids—but instead he picked up his tablet and settled on the couch across from Mia.

She settled him. Made him think about more than just work and business. He liked just being in her company, doing something as enjoyable as reading a book in the silence.

She’d been thrilled when he’d presented her with a brand-new e-reader—the latest upgrade—along with an entire collection of her favorite books in digital, loaded onto the reader. She’d thrown her arms around him and hugged and kissed him so exuberantly that he’d laughed. But then he did that a lot around her. Laughed.

There was something quite irresistible about her. Her charm was infectious. She was his…sunshine. He cringed at how corny that sounded. He was acting and thinking like an overdramatic teenager. Thank God no one could see into his thoughts. He’d never be able to hold his head up at business meetings.

Men like him were supposed to be intimidating. Cold. Unreachable. Feared, even. If anyone had any clue that a petite brunette with a million-dollar smile was his absolute kryptonite, he’d be laughed out of town.

His cell phone beeped, and he dug it out of his pocket to see that the concierge had texted him to say that he was coming up right away with Gabe’s order. Gabe rose from the couch to meet the man at the elevator doors. They opened just as he arrived in the foyer. He thanked the concierge and then took the bag into the kitchen.

The soup was still steaming hot, so Gabe didn’t warm it further in the microwave. He poured it into a bowl and toasted two slices of bread. Then he dug into the fridge for Mia’s favorite soft drink. Black cherry soda. It was an item he’d told his housekeeper to keep stocked because Mia was addicted to it.

There were a lot of things he kept stocked now because of Mia’s preferences. He’d committed them to memory and then made certain he had the things she liked. He didn’t want to give her any reason not to want to stay over.

He put the soup, toast and her drink on a tray, and then carried it into the living room, placing it on the coffee table in front of her. He was still reluctant to wake her, but she needed to eat and he needed to determine her condition. If necessary, he’d call his personal physician and have him come over to see Mia here.

“Mia,” he said in a low voice. “Mia, wake up, honey. I brought you something to eat.”

She stirred, uttered a sleepy protest and then turned her head to the other side, her eyelashes fluttering as she closed her eyes again.

He chuckled. She never did like having her sleep disturbed.

He touched her cheek, tracing a path down to her jaw, enjoying the silky feel of her skin beneath his touch.

“Mia. Wake up, baby. Come on. Open those pretty eyes for me.”

She opened her eyes and her unfocused stare encountered his. To his surprise, fear registered, and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Worry? Anxiety?

What the hell was going on here?

She yawned and rubbed her eyes, avoiding his gaze as she sat up. She clutched the covers around her in a manner that screamed self-preservation.

He had to bite his tongue to keep from demanding answers right here and now. There was something infinitely fragile about her right now. He hadn’t seen her this way since that night in Paris. His gut knotted just thinking about it.

“Hey sleepyhead,” he said in a gentle tone. “I brought you some soup. I see you didn’t eat your lunch.”

She grimaced. “I was cold and just wanted to get warm. Didn’t feel like eating.”

“Are you feeling okay? Are you unwell? I can have my doctor come see you.”

She licked her lips and shook her head. “I’m fine. Really. As soon as I got warm I was so sleepy that I couldn’t stay awake. But I feel fine. I promise.”

He didn’t quite believe her and he wasn’t sure why. There was something off about her even if she wasn’t ill. And there was the fact that it looked very much like she’d been crying. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe she’d just rubbed her eyes before nodding off.

“Feel like eating now?” he prompted.

She eyed the tray on the coffee table and then nodded. “Starving.”

When she started to get up and move forward, he held out his hand to help her. She laced her fingers through his and pulled herself to a sitting position on the edge of the couch.

“Thanks,” she said huskily. “You’re so very good to me, Gabe.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d said such a thing, but every time she did, he was besieged by guilt. If he’d been as good to her as he should have been, he would have never allowed her to be abused by another man.

He watched as she ate, the need to touch her and shield her from whatever had caused her upset growing by the minute. It was an insatiable urge he had no control over. The strength of his attraction to her defied logic. But then when it came to her, it was clear he had no reason. No sanity. No ability to maintain any distance between them.

When she finished with her meal, she pushed back the blanket that was still halfway wrapped around her and to his surprise—and delight—she crawled onto the couch with him and wrapped herself around him.

He put his arm around her and then reached forward for the blanket that had fallen by the wayside. He pulled it over both of them and positioned her so she blanketed him, her body soft and warm against his.

He buried his nose in her hair, content to have her snuggled as close to him as possible.

“Thank you for dinner,” she said. “I just want you to hold me right now. It’s all I need to feel better.”

Her words spoke to the very heart of him. Said with utter sincerity. How simple she made it sound. She’d never asked anything of him. She was very undemanding. She didn’t give a shit about his money or what he could buy her. The only things she’d ever truly asked him for were so simple. Hold her. Touch her. Comfort her.

The idea that he held such power over her should have contented him. It was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Complete control. Her bending to his will. But instead it made him all too aware of the fact that he had the power to destroy her.

“Want to stay here in front of the fire or do you want to go to bed?” he asked as he stroked her hair.

“Mmmm,” she uttered in a sleepy, contented voice. “Here for a while, I think. It’s nice in front of the fire. I wonder if it’s snowing yet.”

He chuckled. “If it is I imagine it’s only flurries. We never do get much this early in the year.”

“Head hurts,” she murmured as she snuggled further into the crook of his shoulder.

He frowned. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? How bad is it?”

She shrugged. “Bad enough. I took some ibuprofen when I got home. I’d hoped that when I woke up it would be gone.”

He pushed her gently to the side and then disentangled himself from her and the blanket before rising from the couch. He strode into the kitchen, shook out one of the prescription painkillers from the bottle and then returned to Mia.

She frowned. “Those make me so fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy is better than you being in pain,” he said patiently. “Take it and I’ll take care of you. We’ll sit on the couch until you get sleepy and then we’ll go to bed. If you aren’t feeling better in the morning, you’re going to stay home.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, her dimple flashing in her cheek.

He gave her the pill and then handed her the half-empty bottle of black cherry soda and watched as she swallowed the medicine. Then he sat back down, immediately pulling her back into his arms. He settled the blanket over her body and wrapped both his arms around her, holding her securely in his embrace.

She gave a contented sigh as she burrowed her forehead against his neck.

“I’m glad I’m with you, Gabe. I don’t regret my decision even for a moment.”

She said the words so softly, he almost didn’t hear. And when he did realize what it was she said, he was gripped by a satisfaction so fierce that he couldn’t immediately respond. But there was also something odd about her statement. Almost as if it were a prelude to a good-bye. He wouldn’t even consider that possibility. He’d do whatever it took to ensure she didn’t go anywhere but right back to him.

“I’m glad you’re here too, Mia,” he returned softly.

Chapter thirty-five

Mia pulled a jacket on over her shirt as she prepared to leave Gabe’s apartment. He wouldn’t be happy when she showed up at his office. He’d left this morning with stern instructions that she was to stay home in bed and rest.

He thought she was getting sick, that yesterday had been the prelude to a cold or a stomach bug.

She had spent most of the day numb with shock and fear. She’d been so panicked that she hadn’t been able to think about what the best course was for her to take. And time was running out. It was Friday and Charles expected her to cough up the information by the end of the week.

Her stomach was in knots. She was a nervous wreck as she walked down to get into the car that would take her to Gabe’s office—her office.

She’d weighed all her options and the only one available to her was to go to Gabe, tell him the entire truth, and hope that he could take care of the matter. Betraying him wasn’t an option. She had no idea what kind of future they had, but it was time they took matters into their own hands and told Jace, effectively taking away any power Charles perceived he held.

The night before, she’d left her long-sleeved pajama top on even after going to bed with Gabe, citing that she was cold. In reality, she hadn’t wanted Gabe to see the bruises on her arm from where Charles had grabbed her. Gabe would have most assuredly noticed, and she would have had to explain before she’d had time to get things straight in her own mind and come to peace over her decision.