Managed: a VIP novel

by Kristen Callihan

  Where it was too bright to hide anything.

  Her hand smoothes along my side. I’m no longer tender, but the touch raises little bumps on my skin.

  “Are you going to tell me where you were?” She doesn’t demand, which makes it worse.

  My voice sounds like rust when I finally speak. “Fighting.”

  “Fighting?” She rises up on one elbow. “Who? Where? And what the fuck?… Why?”

  The horror in her eyes makes me feel small. “I grew up fighting. When I was younger, I did it for money, and because it released something in me that needed freeing.”

  Her gaze darts over my face. “And you needed that release again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because of me.”

  I cannot lie to her. Never again. “Yes.”

  She sucks in a breath, and I grab her nape, afraid she’ll go. “Because I was an idiot, Sophie, who couldn’t go back to that hotel room that night without breaking. I couldn’t let myself tell you the truth then.”

  She doesn’t pull back, but instead gentles her voice. “What truth?”

  The words pour out. “That I wanted you to the point of pain. That I needed you more than anything.”

  A sigh escapes her, and she rests her forehead to mine. “Gabriel, I needed you too. It isn’t weakness to admit that.”

  Silently, I nod.

  Sophie strokes my side where the bruises are fading. “Please don’t do it again. I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt.”

  “Does it help to know I won?” I’m only half-joking, but I hate the sadness I put in her eyes and want it gone.

  “No.” Her smile is tremulous and brief. “Yes, a little.” The edge of her thumb runs along my cheekbone where I was hit. “Promise, sunshine? That you’ll come to me instead when you’re needy.”

  “Darling, coming with you far surpasses any brief release I’d find fighting.” It’s a horrible quip. But this is what she’s done to me; I’ve become a blathering, bestowed idiot.

  Doesn’t seem to matter; her expression goes soft, pleased. “Okay then.”

  “Okay,” I whisper in agreement, set free by her simple acceptance.

  She pulls me closer and kisses me—little presses of her lips, sweet darts that shoot straight to my heart and make it flutter.

  If I looked at myself from the outside, I wouldn’t recognize this man who acknowledges his heart is all a-flutter, who smiles against Sophie’s mouth as she keeps kissing. But I like it. I love it.

  “More,” she demands, suckling my lower lip. “Kiss me more.”

  I chuckle, a breath of sound she captures. “You’re kissing me,” I point out.

  “Because you’re delicious.” She dips her tongue between my lips, a slow glide, a lazy taste. “I love your mouth.”

  I angle my head, taste her back. “I love yours more.”

  “Mmm.” She melts into me, takes my breath and gives it back to me. “Give me another.”

  I lick deeper, my mind going hazy, my mouth sensitive to every touch.

  “Again,” she says, smiling, kissing.

  My hand cups her sweaty cheek. “My greedy, chatty girl.”

  With an adorable little grunt, she pushes me onto my back, going at my mouth as if I’m her first taste of chocolate. And I laugh, a low breath against her lips, my heart still fucking fluttering. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are cartoon hearts in my eyes, and I don’t bloody care.

  We drift, content to simply kiss and touch each other as if we’re reassuring ourselves this is real. Pleasure makes my body heavy and warm, my movements slow.

  “You do apologies pretty well,” she says after a time.

  We’re nose to nose, our limbs so entwined she feels like a part of me.

  “Pretty well?” My thumb glides along the elegant line of her collarbone. “I do many things very well.”

  “Excellent, even,” she agrees, kissing the bridge of my nose. “Now do me well.”

  With an evil grin, I slide my hand down the curve of her thigh and grasp the crook of her knee, bringing it up to my hip. Exposed, she’s glistening wet, pretty pink. My cock pulses in approval.

  “As you wish,” I say, guiding myself to her warm, wet well of addiction and pushing in deep.

  She gasps and groans, the sound so erotic, I thrust harder than planned. But she merely grins. “Quotes The Princess Bride and has a big, hard cock. I’ve hit the jackpot.”

  I know I’m the true winner, but that doesn’t stop me from taking her hands in mine and raising them over her head so her pretty tits lift high.

  “Hush now and spread those lovely thighs wider like a good, chatty girl. I’ve work to do here.”

  * * *

  Sophie drifts away from my side as we take the elevator down to the lobby in the morning. I tug her right back where she belongs, and wrap an arm around her waist to keep her there.

  A soft blush colors her cheeks as she smiles up at me. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a handsy guy.”

  I’ve had my hands on every inch of her at this point—an experience I want to repeat. Often. I rub the delectable curve of her hip, because I can.

  “I’m not. This is a Sophie only condition. Does it bother you?”

  I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t like it. Probably live with my hands permanently tucked into my pockets to keep from reaching for her. But she simply grins wide and rests her head on my shoulder, her hand smoothing down my chest. It feels so good, I find myself leaning into her touch.

  “I think last night made it clear that I love you touching me,” she says.

  Last night. Heat licks over my skin and settles in my cock. We fucked until we were shaking and breathless. I kissed her until I couldn’t feel my own lips. And still I kissed her some more.

  I want more now. But I’m not sure I can handle it. The battering my body took fighting, the lack of sleep when I feared I’d lost my chance with Sophie, and the lack of sleep when I finally had Sophie is catching up on me.

  I’m lightheaded, slightly dizzy—euphoric and just plain exhausted. I wouldn’t change a thing, however. Not when the end result is Sophie being well and truly mine.

  The elevator arrives at the lobby, and we exit. Across the way, the guys have congregated, drinking coffee in the lounge. They’ve drawn a fair bit of attention, but they don’t seem to care.

  At my side, Sophie’s steps slow.

  I slow too. “What is it?”

  She nibbles on the corner of her lip. “How do you want to play this?”

  “This?” I ask blankly.

  She glances toward the guys. “I’m thinking you’re not big on public displays of affection. If you’d rather we kept things to ourselves—”

  I step into her space, cup her cheeks, and kiss her. Do I care for public displays? No. Can I keep my hands, my mouth off Sophie? Hell no.

  When her lips yield to mine, the world falls away. I groan, tilt my head, and go deeper, luxuriating in the feel of her mouth and the taste of her tongue on mine.

  I kiss her until I run out of air. And even then it is a struggle to stop.

  She utters a happy sigh, her lips returning to mine again and again.

  Behind us, someone gives a wolf whistle. I’m guessing it’s Rye by the sound of it. He can sod off.

  I end the kiss with one last nibble on her lower lip. “Consider yourself outed,” I whisper against her mouth.

  She smiles, her brown eyes dazed. “Wow, you really go all in.”

  “For you? Yes.”

  She grins. “As long as you’re okay, I’m okay.”

  I’m dizzy again, sweating a bit. I need a strong pot of tea and a good breakfast. But Sophie’s needs come first. I give her a reassuring peck on her nose. “Don’t worry, chatty girl. All is well now.”

  I take two steps. The world goes black.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sophie

  * * *

  “I do not need to be here,” Gabriel announces. “Get t
his IV out of my arm.”

  Gabriel Scott: worst patient ever. I should have expected as much.

  Brenna apparently thinks the same. “Shut up and take your medicine, Colossus.”

  He narrows his eyes in warning. “Colossus?”

  Brenna gives him a cheeky look. “You know, the Colossus of Rhodes? One of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. They say when it fell, it was quite the spectacle.”

  “Hilarious,” he deadpans.

  But I laugh, grateful for the emotion. I was terrified when he fainted. Gabriel is eternal in my eyes. Superman in a tailored suit. He cannot topple. To see him take a step and suddenly crumple to the ground as if the strings of life had been cut is a sight I never want to witness again.

  Now, he sits stiff and pissed off on our bed, because, according to Brenna, Kill John and company have a strict, no-alerting-the-press-by-going-to-the-hospital-unless-you’re-truly-dying rule. One that pissed me off when my man was lying prone on the floor, but in hindsight, I can appreciate it. I know for a fact that Gabriel would have gone ballistic if he’d woken in a hospital room.

  He’s so pissy now that he’s scared away the guys. Only Brenna and I remain. I’m guessing this is because Gabriel never yells at women.

  There’s a light knock on the bedroom door, and Dr. Stern lets herself in. She is the band’s on-call physician. Apparently she’s been going on tour with Kill John for years. I met her once—she keeps to herself and flies to all the cities instead of using a coach.

  Elegant yet down to earth, she reminds me of the Upper West Side moms who work full time but still take their kids to the Museum of Natural History on Sundays.

  “How is my patient doing?”

  “Annoyed.” Gabriel lifts his arm. “Would you please remove this?”

  The doctor is immune to his evil glare. “When it’s finished. You mind telling me how you felt before you fainted?”

  “As though I were about to faint but hoped very much it wouldn’t happen.”

  “Stubborn,” I mutter under my breath.

  Dr. Stern nods. “And have you felt this way before?”

  A mulish expression mars Gabriel’s face. When he doesn’t speak, Brenna stands. “I’m gonna head out.”

  As soon as she leaves, Dr. Stern asks him the question again.

  With a sigh, he answers. “Yes.”

  “How many times, Scottie?” she persists. “And for how long?”

  Seconds tick by.

  “Since the beginning of the tour. On and off, perhaps ten times. I didn’t count.”

  “Jesus,” I blurt out, getting up from my seat and pacing to the window before rounding on him. “What the hell, Gabriel?”

  He won’t meet my eyes.

  Dr. Stern sighs. “I’d say you’re extremely stressed and overworked. Have you been sleeping well?”

  A faint flush hits his cheeks. “Not lately.”

  God, it’s my turn to blush.

  “You need more than a good night’s sleep, Scottie. In fact, I’d prescribe a long vacation.”

  “I’ll go on holiday when the tour is over.”

  The promise does not sound very convincing.

  Dr. Stern apparently feels the same. “You’re ignoring your health, which is never a good thing.”

  “I have not ignored the situation,” he snaps. “Christ, I was willing to turn my life upside down to get a proper night’s sleep—”

  He abruptly shuts up and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shit.”

  “By asking me to room with you,” I finish for him.

  His gaze slides to mine, and I see him wince. “Are you upset?” he asks.

  “Why should I be? You told me from the beginning me why you wanted me there.”

  He can’t hide the flinch of surprise. But he doesn’t say a word, just eyes me as if waiting for me to explode.

  I laugh. “How could I be mad about that? I’m the one you needed. If I’m honest, it kind of melts me.”

  He begins to smile.

  “But I am pissed at you.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake,” he bursts out, lifting his hands in exasperation, as he turns to the doctor. “You see? Lei è completamente pazza.”

  Whatever he said makes Dr. Stern chuckle.

  I glare at both of them, stalking over to his bedside. “Don’t you go yammering off in Italian. I don’t care if it sounds like hot, buttered sex; I’m still pissed.”

  Gabriel shakes his head. “Why are you angry? I don’t understand.”

  “You never told me how badly you were suffering, you stubborn ass. You let it get to this point.” I lean in until we’re nose to nose. “I care about you. I don’t want to see you faint like that ever again.”

  “Trust me, Darling, I’m not planning on fainting like that ever again.”

  “Is that supposed to reassure me, when you refuse to see a doctor when you’re feeling ill? You can’t control everything, you know.”

  My answer is his stubborn chin lifting and his lush mouth flattening. But I see the flash of fear in his eyes before he conceals it. I’ve been so worried, I missed the signs. He’s terrified right now. I glance at Dr. Stern.

  “May we have a moment?”

  “Certainly.”

  As soon as she leaves, I sit by Gabriel’s side and take his hand. It’s cold and clammy. “Talk to me.”

  His thumb runs along my knuckles. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Do I need to do some cuddle therapy here?”

  His eyes meet mine, and I see the weariness in them. He clearly thought he’d hidden his feelings well and good. It makes me smile, sadly.

  “I know you, sunshine. We might as well be on a plane right now.” I squeeze his fingers. “You are not all right.”

  With a sigh, he rests against the headboard. His throat moves on a swallow. “I hate doctors.”

  “Dr. Stern is very nice.”

  “No,” he shakes his head. “Not in that way. Bugger…I didn’t get myself checked out because I hate seeing a doctor.” Blue eyes filled with pain meet mine. “My mum… She was fatigued, always sleeping. Fainting spells.”

  I go ice cold. “You think you might…”

  I don’t say the words. I can’t. I will not give them credence. But I crawl into bed and wrap myself around him.

  He leans into my touch. “I fear it. I always have.”

  I see the effort it takes for him to admit that, and I snuggle in closer. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes back, his lips pressing to the top of my head.

  “Do the tests, Gabriel.” When he tenses, I push on. “It worries you, and that makes everything worse. Do them and get that fear out of the way.”

  He doesn’t say a word, just breathes against my hair, his hand clutching my shoulder.

  I raise my head. “If it were me, what would you say?”

  “To take the bloody tests,” he grumbles.

  I kiss his lips. “I will not leave you. Ever.”

  He must see the determination in my eyes, because he gives a short nod.

  When we call in Dr. Stern and tell her his concerns, she calls the nearby hospital and sets up a few tests.

  * * *

  It takes two days for the results to come back. Two days of Gabriel stomping around like a snarling bear to hide the fact that he’s terrified. Two days of me distracting him with sex and holding him tight when he sleeps to hide that I’m terrified.

  Nothing gets done, despite Gabriel’s insistence that everyone go about their business. At the moment, he is the top priority, whether he likes it or not.

  On the day the doctor is supposed to call, I outright give up trying to pretend I’m okay. I don’t bother getting out of my PJs but sit in a chair and flip through a magazine, seeing absolutely nothing.

  Somehow Brenna, Rye, Jax, Killian, and Libby find ways to be near him too. They’ve all ended up in our suite sitting around as well. It’s as if we’re all waiting, circling our wagons. And oddly, Gabriel doesn�
��t send anyone away. He might not admit it, but he needs his friends.

  Silence settles over us so thickly it’s choking.

  When Gabriel’s cell finally rings, I think we all jump out of our skin a little. I stop breathing all together for a moment. I can’t move. Gabriel answers, his voice low. And when I can’t hear what’s being said, I go to him, take his cold hand in mine. My heart pounds so loudly, I hear it reverberating in my ears.

  A tremor goes through him, and his hand jerks. My breath hitches.

  When he hangs up, everyone stares at him. The silence grows, and then he finally speaks. “All clear.”

  I sob and throw myself into his arms. Around us, the guys and Brenna are talking, laughing—I’m not even sure. There’s only Gabriel for me at the moment, the sound of his pounding heart, the faint dampness of his shirt, and the scent of his cologne mixed with the sweat of his body.

  He holds me so tightly, my ribs ache. But the hug is over soon, and he sets me away and stalks over to the window. He doesn’t fool me. I see the sheen of sweat on his brow and the way his hand trembles before he tucks it into his pocket.

  Jax speaks up first. “That settles it, then. You’re taking a vacation.”

  Gabriel doesn’t bother looking our way. “No.”

  “Ah, yeah you are,” Killian snaps. “And if you say no again, I swear I’ll clock you one. I don’t care if you can kick my ass or not.”

  Gabriel snorts and turns to face us, his cold mask firmly back in place. “I do not need—”

  “Stern literally said you need a vacation, Scottie,” Whip cuts in, looking pissed. “So stop messing around.”

  All the signs of an imminent blow up are rising in Gabriel: eyes going icy, cheeks flushing, nostrils flaring. But his voice remains calm. “There’s too much to do.”

  “Jules can handle it.” Brenna gives a firm nod. “You told me yourself she’s getting on well. And everything is set, so all she needs to do is steer the boat, so to speak.”

  His eyes narrow. “Yes, thank you for that observation, Brenna.”

  “You’re welcome.”