Managed (VIP 2)
I have no choice but to follow.
* * *
He waits until we’re in our room to round on me. “All right, what the hell is going on?”
“Don’t snap at me like I’m one of your lackeys.”
“Answer the goddamn question,” he roars.
My ears ring with his fury. It’s so sudden and intense, I flinch. I’ve never seen him like this, white about the lips, his eyes burning into mine. My lip wobbles. I want to cry. But I’ve never been the type to cower. I won’t now, and I find myself shouting back at him.
“I don’t know! I only got there a few minutes before you.”
He snorts, the sound loud and obnoxious. “He sent you the first text when we checked into our room.”
Shit. “That had nothing to do with Jax.”
Gabriel grinds his teeth. “You weren’t sick at all, were you? You lied to me.”
My stomach lurches. “I was sick. With worry and shame. The mere thought of that worm being around and wanting to talk made me ill.”
If anything, he looks more upset, hot color rising up his neck. “That’s all you had to tell me, if that was the case. Instead, you made me worry and regret leaving you behind. And all the while you were planning on meeting up with that little fuck.”
He’s right, and there’s nothing I can do to change my mistakes. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to handle it myself, get rid of him and get on with my life. I didn’t mean to hurt you, though.”
Gabriel waves his hand as if swatting a fly. “Fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
His gaze cuts to me. “Because I am. Not. Fine. I am bloody-well pissed.”
I finch again at the hardness of his voice and the way he uses it as a whip. Having never been on the receiving end of his anger, I hadn’t realized the power of it. I’m ashamed that I’ve earned it. And I’m hurt that he won’t let it go.
He paces over to me, but halts as if he suddenly doesn’t want to be too close. “It’s bad enough that I have to walk into what appeared to be a replay of one of the worst moments in my life, but I get the distinct privilege of witnessing your supposed ex-boyfriend thanking you for helping him film the whole fucking thing!”
Guilt and shame hit me anew, but my mind skids to a halt. “What do you mean supposed? He is my ex. How can you even think that—“
His lip curls in disgust. “You’re not stupid or blind. You damn well know how this looks.”
“And how exactly does this look to you?” I ask, my heart thudding loudly in my ears. “Tell me, Gabriel, what do think went on here?”
For a second, I don’t think he’ll answer. But then something defiant flashes in his eyes, and he stiffens, those icy, business-like walls slamming down around him. It’s so swift and effective, I can almost hear their phantom clang.
“It looks like you fucked us over.”
He might as well have punched me in the gut. For a second I can’t breathe.
“Right. All of this, all of what we had together, was just some elaborate ruse to get a story. Sure, why not? I can play a whore, can’t I?”
I will not cry. I will not cry.
“Do not twist this, Sophie.”
“I’m not twisting anything. You flat-out said it. I’m only clarifying your theory.”
“I wouldn’t have to theorize if you would simply tell me what the fuck happened!” He punches the air, as the words tear from him.
“I shouldn’t have to explain that I’m not some gutter slut,” I shout back. “You should trust me enough not to leap to that disgusting conclusion.”
“And if it had been me? Had you walked in on me with someone who had already hurt your family, someone you knew I’d been in a relationship with while hurting your family? You’d honestly just assume it was all fine because you trust me?”
He looks at me with wide, pained eyes, and my heart squeezes. “Well…”
“No, you wouldn’t,” he cuts in, going hard once more. “At the very least, you’d expect an explanation without having to ask for it. And I would bloody well be giving it to you,” he shouts. “Because you’d deserve that courtesy. Anyone would. And most certainly from the person you—”
His mouth snaps shut, and he turns away, running a hand through his hair. Hunched and trembling, he looks so defeated that I move to go to him. Because if he’s hurting, I need to stop it.
But he doesn’t give me a chance. He straightens once more and turns to me. “I am trying my best to give you a chance here. Because what Killian and I walked in on tonight did not look good.” He spreads his hands in a helpless gesture. “Christ, Sophie, give me something to work with, a bloody breadcrumb of an explanation to take back to Killian.”