Scandal and the Runaway Bride (Heirs to an Empire 1)

Will squeezed her hand reassuringly. “We’ll scare up some food in the kitchen in a bit. But maybe a glass of wine later?”

“That sounds perfect. You go get settled. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

As Bella continued down the stairs, Gabi and Will continued up, Will carrying their bags. “You’re staying in my room,” he decreed. “I’m not leaving you alone for any sneak attacks.”

Gabi tried to keep a sense of humor as he led her down a long, carpeted hall. “Hmm. So you’ve gone from my jailer to my protector. Interesting.”

“Isn’t it just?” He opened a door on the left and drew her inside, then closed it and pinned her against the solid wood, kissing her so thoroughly she was quite breathless. “I’ve been wanting to do that for an hour and a half,” he growled, and then feasted again on her willing mouth.

“Okay,” she said when they finally came up for air. “We’ve established that we’re still wildly attracted to each other. It’s a good start.”

He laughed and gathered her into his arms for a massive hug. “You are a joy,” he murmured in her ear. “And a gift. I’d be a fool to let that go. Remember that when things get tense, okay? Joy. Fool.”

She nodded against his chest and wrapped her arms around him. It would be okay. Will wouldn’t let anything bad happen.

Gabi took some time to unpack, though it only took a few minutes as she’d packed lightly for the weekend. Will had arrived that morning, and his things were already tucked away. Including a tux for the following night, she noticed. “A tuxedo?”

“For birthday celebrations? Always.?

? He grinned. “Have you seen me in a tuxedo? I’m really quite dashing.”

She met his gaze and frowned. “The day of the wedding, remember?”

He slapped his head. “How could I have forgotten?”

They were still chuckling about it when they made their way down to the kitchens and Will fixed them thick sandwiches with sour pickles and then jam tarts that their cook had made that morning. As they ate, they caught up on more “normal” things, like work and her father’s health.

“You’ve had a rough go with your client list lately. Have you told your father?”

She frowned, her brow wrinkling. “No, not yet. When he’s had his treatment and feels awful, it seems wrong to add to it. And when he’s perked up before his next treatment, it seems unfair to ruin it by giving him bad news.”

Will bit down on his pickle. “You should, though. He’d want to know what was happening.”

“I know. I’ll find a way to tell him when I get back.”

“He might welcome a chance to be part of the business, you know. Feel useful and connected.”

“You mean, instead of not worrying, he might be worrying about what he doesn’t know?”

Will shrugged. “Maybe. How many have you lost?”

“Three big accounts, a few smaller ones. Baresi was already feeling a pinch. I’m worried, Will.”

“Any new accounts? How’s your sales department doing?”

“We’ve picked up a few new ones, but certainly not enough to make up for the losses.”

He nodded sagely, and seemed lost in thought for a few minutes. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

“Just pondering solutions. I’ll let you know if I come up with anything.”

“Thanks.”

They tidied up together, and then went to the drawing room. Will wandered through and then stopped at a small table set up with a chessboard. “My father used to play with anyone who would take him on,” he said, warm reminiscence in his voice. “Do you know how?”

“I haven’t for years, but yes.” She went to the table and pulled out a chair, settling in. “You’ll beat me, but I can take it.”

“I never beat Papa. Not once.”