It isn’t until now that I notice just how lonely this mansion is. Just how isolated I’ve become. The contacts in my phone, if not Adrian, are purely professional: The dreaded dry cleaners, the maid that comes once a week, our favorite—scratch that, his favorite—takeout joint. When I look at my phone, I feel more alone than ever.
I can’t blame it entirely on Adrian, however. I’d already done a good job of isolating myself before I’d even met him. When my parents were killed, it rocked my entire world. No girl should ever have to identify her parents in such an agonizing way, especially when they’ve suffered multiple bullet wounds. It was the most excruciating moment of my life. I was nineteen years old and an orphan.
Something inside me died right along with those who gave me life as I stared down at their bloody corpses in that morgue. I retreated inside myself, barely surviving through the funeral and the subsequent media coverage and conspiracy theorists.
They called it a robbery gone horribly wrong.
Such a senseless act that robbed me of the two people who meant the most to me. They were my whole world, and in one night, they were taken from me. For months after, I wished that I’d been home. That he’d have killed me, too. At least then I wouldn’t be alone.
I threw myself into finishing school, giving up any sort of social life I had. How could I be out having fun while they were lying in the ground? Friends turned to acquaintances and then quickly to strangers. I didn’t care. It was easier to be on my own. That’s why, as soon as I graduated, I packed up and moved across the country where no one knew me as the girl whose parents had been murdered. The girl who had no one.
Until Adrian. Then I thought I had it all.
What a blind fool I was.
Adrian: Good morning, sweet Gabriella. Are you behaving?
Speak of the devil. Of course I’m behaving. I haven’t had a chance to be bad. Even though I was determined to seek Rafe out, our paths haven’t crossed since that first morning. According to the foreman—yes, I asked—he’d been called off site and wouldn’t be back for a few days. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement, but eventually, I was grateful for the chance to think before acting rashly.
That was six days ago, however, and with each text I get from Adrian asking about my behavior, the more I want Rafe to kiss me again, and then do so much more. According to the clinic, my results were negative and I was completely in the clear, meaning I could move on from him without having to worry about any repercussions. And moving on is exactly what I want to do.
The notion to misbehave causes me to grin up at the ceiling, wondering if today could be the day. Then my phone beeps again, reminding me of Adrian’s waiting text.
Feeling bold, I shoot him a winking emoticon.
Adrian: What have I told you about using your words, Gabriella?
Rolling my eyes, I repeat the previous message, and barely ten seconds pass before he responds.
Adrian: Someone’s apparently feeling cheeky. I’m not sure I like it.
Not wanting to rile him up, I sigh and type out a text that I hope will appease him.
Gabriella: I’m simply teasing, Adrian. I am doing well. No trouble at all. I promise.
Adrian: There’s my girl. No trouble? Why don’t I believe that? Off to meetings. Continue to be a good girl and you may just get a surprise later on.
My heart races as I read his last few words. A surprise? What could he possibly surprise me with from where he is? The thought of him cutting his trip early and returning home shoots dread through me. I haven’t had enough time to get my affairs in order. Hell, I haven’t done anything at all. Instead, I’ve been wallowing in self-pity, wondering how to get myself out of this mess but not actually taking any steps in doing so. That stops today.
As I push the idea of Adrian’s surprise out of my mind, I grab my laptop and settle at the island in the kitchen, determined to find a job. I don’t care what it is; I’ll do anything to get back on my own two feet. To get out from under his hold. However, when I open my documents folder, I frown, not finding my résumé. After a few minutes of searching, I finally give up, knowing that it’s gone.
Adrian.
I sigh, unsurprised by his actions. It’s not as if it were an impressive résumé, but it was a complete one. At this point, I’m not even sure I should bother searching for jobs here. It wouldn’t shock me if he is monitoring my Internet activity, and the last thing I need is for him to catch wind of my search for employment.
Glancing out the back door, my eyes land on the Matthews Construction trailer and I remember Rafe’s words about helping me. Deciding to take him up on it—and, well, because I want to see him again—I pour coffee into a thermos and step outside, looking around but not seeing him.
The beat of my heart quickens the closer I get to the site, and I hope like hell he’s back. As I turn the knob and push the door open, the sound of a ringing telephone greets me, yet there’s no one in sight. The ringing stops and then starts almost immediately, so I round the desk and pick it up, hoping Rafe won’t mind.
As I jot down notes from the person on the line, the door opens and Rafe freezes when he sees me standing there. I do the same. My eyes wander shamelessly over his body, my mouth watering immediately. Six days without seeing him was six days too long. He’s wearing a tight, black T-shirt that stretches across his broad chest, highlighting muscles I’m sure are from hours of hard, manual labor, not time spent in a gym. No, those hard lines and ridges come from wielding a hammer and carrying lumber, not weight machines or dumbbells. Pure, unadulterated vigorous work and nature resulted in a body such as his. His muscled biceps gleam with sweat, as does his brow. It’s heady and intoxicating, how sexy he looks, how masculine he is. I’m nearly distracted from the caller and have to ask him to repeat his number before hanging up.
“Hi,” I say quietly, my eyes not leaving his as I lean against the desk.