Page 76 of Fair Game


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Catherine sweeps into the living room in a silk robe, one shoulder draped artfully low to show off some of the bespoke lingerie I had delivered to the penthouse this morning. She flutters a hand in my father’s direction. “So lovely to see you again, Mr. Chambers. Have you heard the news?”

He opens his mouth and closes it again. Catherine Bettencourtisstunning, I’ll give him that. Especially with her auburn hair piled on top of her head that way. I can’t wait to pull out the pin and watch it spill over her shoulders.

“He’s awfully quiet,” she says to me, then flounces away from him. “Be excited for me, Mr. Chambers! I’m going to visit England. We’re going to shop on Oxford Street and see Buckingham Palace. There’s going to be fancy tea!” She pauses at the door, looking over her shoulder at me with a smile that makes my cock hard in three seconds flat. “I’m soveryexcited.”

She hasn’t made it up the stairs when my father storms out, slamming the door behind him.

“Is he gone?” calls Catherine.

I abandon the rest of my cocktail. “Kitten, you’d better not be naked.”

“Oh, hurry, Jacob…my robe is coming off…”

It may very well be lowbrow, but I pick up and run. There’s no time to waste.

20

GABRIEL

On our secondnight back at the brownstone, I wake up with a sense of dread.

About…what? I listen for a minute. No weird noises, but something still feels wrong. Could just be that my painkillers have worn off. I’m trying to make it to morning without them, anyway.

Maybe it’s just that I’ll always feel wary about second nights. It’s an unfortunate side effect of the past, but not the worst one.

I get out of bed and pad through the house, checking. Lydia sleeps in a ball under her covers. Nate sleeps sprawled out on top of his, like someone might steal his bed if he’s not actively defending every inch of it.

All the doors are locked.

Even if they weren’t, we’re behind two layers of security. I’ve had a firm on retainer since I moved out, but until now, I didn’t have them on a regular rotation at the brownstone. I thought I’d led Mason to believe that Ididhave people here. Apparently not, because he posted a double-sized team here that only answers to him.

It’s fine.

Everything is fine.

I’m looking out the living room window to see if there’s any sign of trouble on the street when I hear it.

A soft, stifled noise from directly above me.

Elise.

I take the stairs two at a time, gritting my teeth against the pain, torn between thundering around to scare off any possible intruders and staying quiet so Nate and Lydia don’t wake up. One of my ribs hurts so much that I cover it with one palm, keeping the other hand free to punch someone, or kill someone—anything I have to do.

In the bedroom, Elise huddles in the corner, wedged awkwardly between my chair and the wall, her hands over her face.

There’s nobody else here.

I check the closet and the bathroom to be absolutely sure, then go to her. God, fuck, why did I pick such heavy furniture? It’s hell to move it out of the way so I can stand in front of her.

“Hey.” I tug at her wrist, but she doesn’t uncover her face. “Elise. Sweetness. What’s wrong?”

A pause. “Gabriel?”

“It’s me.” I run my free hand over her hair. “Where are you?”

“I—” Elise swallows. “I got arrested.”

“Just a dream.” She leans into my touch, but keeps her back to the wall. “You were only dreaming.”

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