Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 138522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
I rush forward and exit the building, but I can’t find Gabe. He’s not headed toward the parking lot. His voice lifts, a low, deep rumble—God, I love his voice—that I follow down a path to the right. He’s behind a huge dumpster, and when I would round it to speak to him, I hear, “What the hell don’t I know? Why would a billionaire go to this much trouble to hurt an animal shelter?”
I lean against the wall and squeeze my eyes shut. It’s not about the animal shelter. It’s about me and that’s what I haven’t been honest about.
My ex wants to hurt me and there are reasons. There are things I did, things that make me need to end this with Gabe before it’s too late for him to survive this and me.
Chapter twenty-two
Gabe
The cold New York City winter chill cuts through me where I stand outside the shelter talking to Royce Walker from Walker Security behind a damn dumpster of all things. The cold cuts like a blade, but I don’t bleed with its impact, not yet at least, but some part of me is certain that is where I’m headed. I’ve been cut by a woman. I’ve bled for her. I’ve bled because of her and that’s not what I intend to live through again, but no matter how many warning bells I hear, I can’t seem to turn away.
“What do you think is going on with this woman?” Royce asks, cutting through the bullshit and getting right to the point.
“Who goes after a shelter?” I ask. “It’s bad press. Even asshole billionaires know this.”
“Well, he could disconnect himself to avoid the press and if you point fingers without evidence, he could sue you. Assuming that’s his plan, we have to assume either this is about your new woman or that property is worth a hell of a lot more and we don’t know it yet.”
“It would have to be substantial,” I point out. “Because if he takes the shelter, bad press won’t be as easy to hide from as it is now.”
“What are you thinking, Gabe?” he presses again.
“That this is about Abbie, not the shelter.”
“What does she say?” he asks.
“That it’s about the shelter.”
“But you don’t believe her?”
“I just need answers,” I say, avoiding one of my own.
He doesn’t push me. “We’re resourceful,” he says simply. “If there’s a reason he wants it, we’ll find out and fast.” He’s silent a moment. “What aren’t you saying?”
What am I not saying?
That I’m thinking with my dick and maybe even my heart, not my head, and that scares the fuck out of me. “My father is involved. This might not be about Abbie. It might be about Reid and I kicking him to the curb.”
“And he used Abbie to get to you?”
“I don’t want to believe that.”
“Because she did?”
My lips thin. “Yes, you fuckhead. Because she did.”
“There’s one that gets to us all, man. Welcome to the club. I’ll make sure she’s worthy. More soon.” He disconnects and I repeat those words “make sure she’s worthy.” If she is, I’m not. That’s the problem. I shove the phone back into my pocket. What is it about this woman that makes me ignore every promise I made to myself to fuck, get fucked, quite literally, and then fucking walking away?
I scrub my jaw and cut around the dumpster I’ve been standing beside. I enter the walkway leading to the shelter, only to have Abbie step in my path. “You don’t trust me.”
I feel that accusation like a punch in the chest. “You heard my conversation.”
“Yes, I did, and you know what? It’s okay. You shouldn’t trust me. You shouldn’t be in this. You need out, Gabe.” She tries to turn away and I catch her arm and pull her to me.
“I don’t want out. I don’t even come close to wanting out.”
“But I want you out. I’m not ready to have anyone take over my life, and that’s what you’re doing, Gabe. You’re taking over. Stop. Just stop now. Thank you for all you have done, but stop now. We’re done.”
The cold air can’t cut me like those words. Words I should welcome. Words that protect me. Words that get me the hell out of what could very well be my father’s trap. But I don’t want her to walk away. I don’t want to walk away. “Is that what you really want?” I demand.
She cuts her gaze. “Yes. It’s what I really want.” She tries to pull back.
I tangle my fingers into her hair and drag her gaze to mine. “Say it again and look me in the eyes when you do it.”
Her eyes glint with anger. “Don’t bully me. I’ve had enough of that for the past five years.”
“I’m not bullying you, Abbie. I’m holding onto you.”