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“That’s not stalking.” His face relaxed into an almost-smile for the first time since I’d seen him. “Stalking is when you’re chasing somebody. After you catch them, then it’s called something else.”
“Uh…what’s it called then?” I asked nervously.
His eyes sparkled, and I swallowed hard.
“Then it’s called kidnapping.”
Gabe brought me into the house, and I put my stuff down. I watched him warily as he headed toward the kitchen. “You’re kidding, right? About the kidnapping thing?”
He still looked angry. “I don’t know what you call it when it’s for someone’s own good.”
“I can make my own decisions, you know.”
His eyes flashed. “Oh, I know you can. You just make bad ones.”
We stared at each other, stubborn CEO versus stubborn CEO, neither of us giving an inch.
Gabe poured himself a bourbon. It was the first time I’d seen him drink hard liquor. I assumed that meant he’d had a shit day, and I felt responsible. He took a sip, and his shoulders relaxed a little. He looked over at me. “If you don’t want to be here, you can go. I just ask that you take extra security with you. I’m not your jailer. I have no interest in keeping you here against your will.”
I sat down on the couch. “Really?” I smiled for the first time since he’d picked me up. “Well…phew. I thought you were turning a little psycho on me, and I was seriously disappointed.”
He didn’t smile back. “I’m the one who’s seriously disappointed. I don’t like being lied to. And I don’t understand how you can put yourself at risk li
ke that when…”
He didn’t finish his sentence. He finished his drink instead, then poured himself another one.
“Can I have one of those?”
“No. But there’s wine if you want some.” He didn’t budge from the island.
I headed to the fridge. “I guess I’ll just get it myself.” I poured myself a glass and tentatively walked over to him.
He watched me guardedly, not moving, not saying a word.
I moved closer, rubbing his arm. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I was doing.” If he’d done the same, I’d be devastated.
He just blinked. His face was still lined with anger, his eyes guarded.
Relieved he was letting me touch him, I moved closer. “When I woke up this morning, I felt sick. Seeing those pictures of us… I didn’t realize that we were in danger like that. It scared me to death.”
He scoffed. “So you ran off to confront Clive?”
I drank some wine. “I realized this morning that it’s my fault that you’re in danger. They’re after my company, my technology. The only reason they’re after you is me. I wanted to see Clive face-to-face to see if he’d tell me anything I didn’t know…and tape him while he said it. I just wanted to get to the bottom of this and move on.”
Gabe raised an eyebrow. “Did you actually get anything?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “He didn’t tell me anything new except hint that the buyers were ruthless and determined. He made it sound like they would do anything to get to market first.” I paused for a beat. “Maybe, if we’re all really in danger…maybe I should let them.” The thought of giving up, unwelcome and unbidden, had started to seem like a plausible option.
Gabe’s face softened toward me, at least a little. “You can’t do that.”
“Well, maybe I will.” I swallowed hard. “It used to be that the only thing I cared about was getting to market first. I realized this morning that there are other things I care about too.”
I felt him watching me, so I watched my wineglass. He sighed, and I could almost hear the reluctance in it, as if he were preparing to be kind to me and wasn’t really ready yet. But maybe he was finally going to be nice and make me feel a little bit better.
“You can’t let them have your technology. First of all, they’re basically corporate terrorists. You can’t negotiate with them. Second of all, what if you did? What if you let them have the patch, and then they misuse the technology? Or bring it to market at a much higher cost—one that the intended recipients can’t afford? Who wins then? Not you, not your employees or your investors, and not the people you are seeking to help and protect. The same thing could happen if you prosecute them. I hate to admit it, but it’s true.”
I looked at him. Finally, I’d met someone who understood me and understood what I struggled with—and how high the stakes were. He still looked tense and angry, but he finally put his arms around me and pulled me to him.
