Page 145
Chapter 145 of "Possessive Sinner" begins revealing surprises: "We don't need kids, we have us.""I love you, Audra. We'll try again."I squeeze my... Read on to find out!
"We don't need kids, we have us."
"I love you, Audra. We'll try again."
I squeeze my eyes shut. I had no idea. He didn't tell me. He didn't ask me. He just… decided. For me. For us. Most terrifying of all: we built a whole life on that decision.
My chest tightens, pain that feels like a sharp knife twisting deep inside me. I don't know what hurts more, the lie or the fact that I never even questioned it.
After that bomb dropped, I had Brick drive me to the house—my house, not the penthouse—the only place I could think of to find some peace and maybe some trace of why Pete did this to me. Of course, Brick had to clear it with Gabe, and I still resent the hell out of that phone call. I almost resent Brick. But it's not his fault. I get it. Gabe is not just his boss. He's a… killer. A mademan. A mobster. If Brick hadn't made that call, he wouldn't simply be fired…
So what does this say about me that I can think about that so nonchalantly?
I'm not going there right now. That and Gabe are a whole other can of worms that will have to wait its turn. First, I need to get my head clear about Pete.
The doorbell rings.
I consider not answering, that's how much I don't want to talk to anybody right now. Not even a delivery person—although I didn't order anything—and certainly not a neighbor or one of those church people. But manners and curiosity win out.
My butt gets off the couch, and I answer the door. There is nobody there, but a stack of grocery bags has been left on the ground. Not just any bags. Not from the local chains. No, these are from the gourmet store I drive by every so often.
Having a pretty good idea who they're from, I sigh and suppress a smile while I carry the loot inside. Steak. Potatoes, veggies, a salad, fruits, eggs. A six-pack of beer and… this time I do smile. A bottle of tequila. Also, a carton of chocolate ice cream and a box of chocolates that look delicious and obscenely expensive.
Gabe.
A small flutter moves through my chest.
I'm aware that he could have sent an army and forced me back into his penthouse. Hell, he could have come himself and dragged me out of here, and there would have been nothing I could have done about it.
That he hasn't… makes me grudgingly respect him.
I set the carton of ice cream to the side and put the rest of the groceries into the freshly cleaned fridge. I wasn't in the mood to do much when I arrived yesterday, but two weeks of slowlyspoiling food hadn't been pretty. The fridge stank. I had to clean it. Now I'm glad I did.
Taking the ice cream, I go back to the couch, open it, and begin spooning the gooey goodness right out of the box. In my other hand, I balance my phone. Brick had insisted on programming his and Gabe's numbers into it before leaving yesterday. After he left, I changed Gabe's contact information. My fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment in indecision, then I start typing.
Me:
Thank you.
Devil:
For what?
Me:
Groceries. Not dragging me back.
Devil:
Don't get used to either.
A pause. My stomach flips.
Me:
I need time, Gabe.
Devil:
You have it. For now.