Firefighter's Virgin

In my mind’s eye, I could practically see that ship sailing away from me with the way that Richard looked at me. I had to catch that ship. I didn’t have any fucking choice in the matter.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Gabrielle

My heart pounded in my chest. My father and James both stood frozen, locked in some battle of the wills as they stared each other down.

I couldn’t believe that Olivia had tricked me into coming here. I seethed with rage and tried to keep my entire body from shaking. I wanted to wring Olivia’s scrawny neck, but I pushed that to the back of my mind.

The only thing I could focus on at that moment was James. His answer seemed to be taking an eternity, but it was probably no more than a few seconds.

His expression was unreadable; it was as if he could only see my father. I could only see James.

It wasn’t the ideal way for my father to have found out about us, but somewhere along the line, it had become inevitable that he would. I wanted to be with James. For as long as he wanted to be with me, too, there was nothing I wouldn’t be willing to do to make that happen.

I would have faced a horde of murderous Vikings if that was what it took. James only had to face my father. Sure, he was pissed as all hell, but he would get over it. Eventually. I was sure of it.

My heart felt like it was made of glass, sitting in James’s hands. Was he going to let it drop and shatter, or protect it and keep it safe in his strong grip?

James’s expression changed almost imperceptibly. If I didn’t know him as well as I’d come to know him, I would never have noticed it.

He’d made his decision. My heart kicked into a higher gear and sputtered to a stop at the same time. I trembled visibly. I didn’t care. I needed to hear his answer. It was the moment of truth.

“No.” His voice was firm. Decisive. Steady. “Gabrielle and I barely know each other. There has never been anything going on between us.”

My stomach dropped. Blackness rimmed the edges of my vision. I was pretty sure I swayed on my feet as his words washed over me.

It felt like a battering ram with ten Navy SEALs behind it had slammed into my chest. The man that I loved hadn’t simply dropped my glass heart. He had taken that magical throwing arm of his and launched my heart into a fucking oncoming freight train with all of his considerable strength.

I forgot how to breathe. I was aware of angry voices around me and Olivia scurrying out of the office, slamming the door behind her. I had no idea what they were saying.

My ears buzzed. James’s denial repeated so loudly in my mind that I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to hear anything else.

How can he stand there, completely unaffected, and deny our relationship after everything that we’ve been through together? After everything that we’ve shared with each other?

My survival instinct kicked in. Whatever happened, there was no way in hell that I could allow either of those two men see me falling apart.

Get out of here! The scream came from the back recesses of my mind.

My fingers dug into the back of the seat responsible for keeping me standing somehow. My knuckles were white.

“Gabrielle?” My father’s voice only barely registered. “Are you okay? You look ill.”

It was only then I realized that both men stared at me, wearing expressions of expectation and annoyance. “I asked you a question, Gabrielle.”

Shit. He didn’t mean the “Are you okay” one. He must’ve asked something while I’d been trying to keep my knees from buckling and my heart broke into a million pieces in my chest.

I cleared my throat. I had a voice. I just had to find it. It had to be in there somewhere. It had been fine when I’d announced myself to the soul-sucking bitch out front a minute ago.

My eyes locked briefly with James’s. No more than a heartbeat passed, but all I saw in those hazel eyes that had fascinated me every time I looked into them was determination. And a silent plea.

The plea wasn’t, “I made a mistake.” It wasn’t, “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t even, “Forgive me.” It was, “Back me up here!”

Did he really think that I was going break down and confess everything to my father like a broken porcelain doll after he’d just denied that he’d had any feelings for me whatsoever? Not likely.

Worse yet, did he think I was going admit it out of spite? Maybe he had never truly known me if that was the case. Even if it had felt at times as if he knew me better than anyone else had ever known me, or would ever know me.

White-hot rage spread through my veins, temporarily overpowering the gut-wrenching pain and infiltrating the black space where my heart had been but minutes before.