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The dude doesn’t know what’s good for him because, next, he dares to kiss her on the cheek.
The only thing keeping me rooted to the spot and preventing me from springing into action is the look of faint disgust on Blake’s face as his lips make contact with her skin.
I calm down a notch. Justin’s attentions seem to fall on the unwanted, back-the-hell-off side of Blake.
Good.
But next, he looks at her like he’s remembering how she looks naked.
Bad.
Very bad.
Awful, really.
I can’t control the surge of jealousy and possessiveness at the thought of those two getting it on. The horrible image is now solidly planted in my head, and I can’t think beyond it. Either I intervene or walk away.
I should… walk away… but then again, what’s the point of going to all the effort of hauling my derriere across the country to chase after Blake only to let her ex make googly eyes at her? Also, I put her in a situation where she has to face her slimy ex; the least I can do is stick around and see if she needs help getting out.
I take another sip of my Scotch, that’s not doing a thing to soothe my nerves, as they keep talking. Or rather, Justin does most of the talking. Blake seems content giving curt, one-lined replies.
Maybe she’s just going to shake the pretty boy off and be gone. Getting a good night’s rest to be ready to publicly humiliate me tomorrow, apparently.
But my gut clenches when he drops his hands on her shoulders and she cowers away. The Blake I know isn’t scared of anything, of anyone. What does he hold over her to cause that panicked expression on her beautiful face?
That’s the last drop.
This morning I wondered if when I met the dude I’d shake his hand or break his neck.
It seems it’s going to be the second option.
I down the last dregs of Scotch from my glass and go crash the happy reunion.
26
BLAKE
I watch Justin’s expression switch from annoyed at the interruption to eager as he recognizes Gabriel “Decabillionaire” Mercer. I can practically see the dollar symbols pop behind his blue irises. How did I not notice in all the time we were together that he was a greedy, unctuous leech, hungry only for money, power, and status? Three things I couldn’t help him with when we were together.
He lets go of my shoulders and shakes Gabriel’s offered hand. “Gabriel Mercer,” Justin says in an oily tone. “The pleasure is all mine.”
From the way MGM’s knuckles turn white as they shake hands, and from the slight wince on Justin’s face, I don’t think the meeting is going to be all that pleasurable for my ex.
“Good to meet you,” MGM says diplomatically. Then, letting the now-sure-to-be-crushed hand of my ex go, he turns to me. “Blake, I’ve been looking for you. We should go.”
Gabriel looks at me, searching my eyes with a steady gaze. I can’t drop eye contact; right now, Gabriel’s dark reassuring eyes are the only things keeping me sane.
Yes, Justin no longer has a hold on me, but it doesn’t mean seeing him isn’t transporting me back to that dark stain of misery and powerlessness in my past. Also, now I’m raging against Justin and the way he took advantage of me back then, only I can’t go berserk in the lobby of a fancy resort in front of all the most important people in the country and tell my ex exactly what I think of him.
A few loaded instants pass where Gabriel and I just stare into each other’s eyes until I get distracted by a vein in his neck throbbing. MGM is clenching his jaw so hard he might grind his pearly white teeth into powder if he keeps the attitude going. Guess we’re sharing the same suppressed rage.
And it comforts me and scares me at the same time that a man I barely know can read me so completely, that he could see from across the lobby that I needed rescuing, that he didn’t hesitate for a second to step in.
I wonder what he’s thinking as he takes a step closer to me.
MGM wraps his hand around my elbow, and my gaze drops to the point of contact. I don’t have to look Gabriel in the eyes to know how much he’s enjoying getting to touch me. To stake his claim on me. It’s a possessive move, and it should not thrill me as much as it does. But the moment his fingers close on my arm, my senses go into overdrive. My skin hums in response to his touch. I hear the blood rush in my ears. And I smell Gabriel’s cologne swirling around me, making my breath lodge in my chest. That darn scent.
I should push MGM away, tell him to mind his own business. But I won’t. I need someone in my corner right now. I quietly seethe as I make the admission in my head. MGM has won this round and is about to find out.
