Billionaires Runaway Bride

He thumbed through the stack of papers and folded them back. On the page in full color were scanned photographs of what appeared to be Gabriel and me at the gentlemen’s club. Two of them showed me on a stripper’s pole, one straddling his lap, and in all of them, I had taken my shirt off to reveal my black lace bra. There was another gentleman there, as well as another woman.

Suddenly, like a rush of hot lava burning away a heavy curtain, the memories came flooding back. “Oh, God.” My hand rested over my mouth, and I felt the tears well up in my eyes. How could he keep that from me? He knew we’d been there.

“I’m still waiting on more security footage from some of the other locations, but it seems from this photograph, you and Mr. Grant had a good time, including this image from the casino bar.” He pushed a still from the footage in front of me, and it was Gabriel talking to a woman. I was in the background and one of the men had me bent over with his mouth at my cleavage. “You seem pretty awake to me.”

“I don’t remember that.” I raked my hands through my hair before covering my eyes. I wasn’t at all comfortable around my boss. Who was I kidding?

“Do you remember the woman he’s talking to?” The man pointed to the image of the woman. The image was fuzzy, but she didn’t seem familiar from what I could see.

I shook my head. “No. I don’t remember her.”

“That’s Cindy Clarke, Ms. Spencer. She’s one of the victims and your boss’s ex-girlfriend. Are you telling me you’ve never seen her before?”

I met his eyes directly and leaned forward. His harsh tone was hardly called for. “I’m telling you that I don’t recognize the woman in this photograph. As for knowing Ms. Clarke, I don’t. Mr. Grant doesn’t make a habit of mixing his business and pleasure.”

“Says the woman who did a lap dance for him.” He tapped his finger on the incriminating photo. “It’s only fair to assume that with you being in his room and using his shower, that your statement isn’t exactly accurate.” He pulled the papers toward him and flipped back to the front page.

“As I’ve already said, Detective, I don’t remember most of the night. I’m afraid that last night was my first experience with alcohol and one I regret terribly.”

He stood and straightened his pants, hiking them up at his waistline and fidgeting with his buckle like a John Wayne wannabe. “Well, I’m sure if you remember anything, you’ll give us a call.”

He motioned toward the door. “Unless you have more to say, you’re free to go. I appreciate your cooperation.” The last bit was steeped in sarcasm, and as he waited, I scooted my chair out, stood, and exited the room without meeting his eyes.

Mason waited out in the hall, and as I approached, he got to his feet. “That went rather well.”

“How could you know?” I bit out the words and marched out of the building.

“Well, you didn’t have to call me in. With you not being under arrest, that’s always best.”

I shook my head and threw out my arms. “There’s nothing good about any of this.” I couldn’t believe any of it was true, but had seen the photos for myself.

As soon as I spotted that image, the memory rushed back to me. I’d wanted to dance like the girl, and I’d all but insisted that she teach me, begging like some utter fool. And Gabriel had encouraged it, as well. He and that other man, who I believed was the club owner.

The worst part of any of it was that Gabriel knew I’d made a fool of myself and neither stopped me nor told me about it. What else has he kept from me? And what the hell was he doing with that girl?

I ignored Mason as I tried to sort it all out in my head, but before I knew it, we were at the new suite. This place wasn’t as crowded with reporters, but there were a couple of familiar faces who had tracked us down. I barged right through them and made my way into the elevator with Mason, who carried my suitcase. I had my purse, carry-on, and Gabriel’s briefcase and when we walked through the door, it was the first thing he noticed.

“Luna! You have my briefcase.” He rushed across the room toward me and took the heavy case from my hand. “Mason told me-”

The crack of my hand slapping against his cheek echoed throughout the room, and he stood stark still in shock as I walked away and dropped my bags on the sofa.

“What the hell was that for?” He closed the distance I so desperately wanted between us. “Dammit, Luna, look at me.” His arm on my shoulder spun me around to meet his gaze. My handprint was still glowing red on his cheek.

“You let me strip on a pole and take off my top for strangers. How could you not tell me about that?” The rest of his face turned red to match the handprint.

“I didn’t think you’d want to know; besides, it’s not like you got naked.” He turned to glare at Mason, who chuckled.

“I gave you a lap dance like some wanton whore.” I grabbed up my two bags and hurried into the bedroom where I slammed the door behind me, but Gabriel followed, catching it before it latched and throwing it back open. I cowered back, unsure of what he would do.

He registered my movement and stepped back himself. “You’re afraid of me?” Mason stepped in behind him and dropped my suitcases by the door.

“I saw the photographs. Why didn’t you tell me that you’d been with her last night?”

Mason’s eyes grew wide as he nudged Gabriel. “What the hell?” It was apparent I wasn’t the only one he’d been keeping things from.

“Get out!” The voice that came from within me was steeped with venom and so loud it burned. I couldn’t stand to look at him another minute, and as the door closed behind me, I collapsed on the bed in a fit of frustration and tears.

Chapter Eight