Managed (VIP #2)

I know he’s in emergency mode, but I don’t like the way he refuses to look at me.

Kip marches Martin out of the suite, with the little rat bastard protesting the whole way, and I’m alone.

Gabriel is still with the others in the bathroom. I can hear them talking.

“It isn’t an overdose,” Dr. Stern says. “I believe he has food poisoning. I’ve already had calls from a few of the roadies who are suffering as well.”

Killian’s voice is subdued. “He went out to dinner with Ted and Mike earlier.”

“Those would be the two who I’ve seen,” Dr. Stern says. “I’ll keep him hydrated until it passes through his system.”

Jax moans. “Can everyone get the fuck out? I’ve got more to pass through my fucking system…”

Killian and Gabriel exit the bathroom and close the door behind them. Gabriel is on the phone, giving someone an update. He keeps himself turned from me.

Killian takes one last look at the door and lets out a shuddering breath. Weariness lines his face as he rubs a hand over it. With a pat to Gabriel’s shoulder, he walks out, never once acknowledging me.

The sick, jumpy feeling in my belly intensifies when Gabriel finally heads my way.

“Sunshine—”

“Not here,” he snaps, in a low, tight voice. He turns and heads for the door.

I have no choice but to follow.



* * *



He waits until we’re in our room to round on me. “All right, what the hell is going on?”

“Don’t snap at me like I’m one of your lackeys.”

“Answer the goddamn question,” he roars.

My ears ring with his fury. It’s so sudden and intense, I flinch. I’ve never seen him like this, white about the lips, his eyes burning into mine. My lip wobbles. I want to cry. But I’ve never been the type to cower. I won’t now, and I find myself shouting back at him.

“I don’t know! I only got there a few minutes before you.”

He snorts, the sound loud and obnoxious. “He sent you the first text when we checked into our room.”

Shit. “That had nothing to do with Jax.”

Gabriel grinds his teeth. “You weren’t sick at all, were you? You lied to me.”

My stomach lurches. “I was sick. With worry and shame. The mere thought of that worm being around and wanting to talk made me ill.”

If anything, he looks more upset, hot color rising up his neck. “That’s all you had to tell me, if that was the case. Instead, you made me worry and regret leaving you behind. And all the while you were planning on meeting up with that little fuck.”

He’s right, and there’s nothing I can do to change my mistakes. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to handle it myself, get rid of him and get on with my life. I didn’t mean to hurt you, though.”

Gabriel waves his hand as if swatting a fly. “Fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

His gaze cuts to me. “Because I am. Not. Fine. I am bloody-well pissed.”

I finch again at the hardness of his voice and the way he uses it as a whip. Having never been on the receiving end of his anger, I hadn’t realized the power of it. I’m ashamed that I’ve earned it. And I’m hurt that he won’t let it go.

He paces over to me, but halts as if he suddenly doesn’t want to be too close. “It’s bad enough that I have to walk into what appeared to be a replay of one of the worst moments in my life, but I get the distinct privilege of witnessing your supposed ex-boyfriend thanking you for helping him film the whole fucking thing!”

Guilt and shame hit me anew, but my mind skids to a halt. “What do you mean supposed? He is my ex. How can you even think that—“

His lip curls in disgust. “You’re not stupid or blind. You damn well know how this looks.”

“And how exactly does this look to you?” I ask, my heart thudding loudly in my ears. “Tell me, Gabriel, what do think went on here?”

For a second, I don’t think he’ll answer. But then something defiant flashes in his eyes, and he stiffens, those icy, business-like walls slamming down around him. It’s so swift and effective, I can almost hear their phantom clang.

“It looks like you fucked us over.”

He might as well have punched me in the gut. For a second I can’t breathe.

“Right. All of this, all of what we had together, was just some elaborate ruse to get a story. Sure, why not? I can play a whore, can’t I?”

I will not cry. I will not cry.

“Do not twist this, Sophie.”

“I’m not twisting anything. You flat-out said it. I’m only clarifying your theory.”

“I wouldn’t have to theorize if you would simply tell me what the fuck happened!” He punches the air, as the words tear from him.

“I shouldn’t have to explain that I’m not some gutter slut,” I shout back. “You should trust me enough not to leap to that disgusting conclusion.”