Managed: a VIP novel

by Kristen Callihan

  The pillow lifts from my face, sending blinding light into my eyes. I squint as Killian frowns down at me.

  “What did you do?” he asks.

  I don’t answer. My body is so leaden, I can’t find the energy to talk. I just want them to go away.

  “Was it the sex?” Whip asks tentatively.

  I give him a glare that, in a perfect world, would cause instant annihilation.

  Unfortunately it does little more than make Whip wince. “Sorry, sorry. Just thought I’d ask.”

  I stare up at the ceiling. Behind me, Jax rummages through the suite’s kitchenette and finds some beers.

  “Should you be drinking those?” I feel compelled to ask. He looks about as good as I feel.

  Jax limps his way to the other couch and falls down on it. “It settles my stomach.”

  Doubtful.

  “Are you all right?” I ask, partially afraid he’ll be sick all over my suite.

  He gives me a knowing look. “I feel like shit warmed over and left out to dry, but I’ll live.”

  Rye passes beers to the others, but I wave off the offer. I don’t remember when I last ate, and in my current mood, I’m likely to punch someone if I get drunk.

  “Once found a book of Brenna’s,” Rye says, making a face. “Dude in it had some ‘monster cock’ that was ten inches long.”

  “Yeah, right,” Jax scoffs. “Was it a fantasy? The likelihood of a dude with a tenner is slim.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Killian says with a smug grin.

  “I am, anaconda. Just simmer down and keep it holstered.”

  They both snicker. But Rye shakes his head. “How are dudes in real life supposed to compete when women are reading about python dicks and pussy whisperers?”

  Whip snorts and spins one of his drumsticks. “The average length of a woman’s vagina is three to four inches. A ten-inch dick doesn’t mean shit when it’s all said and done.”

  “Are you trying to justify having a three-inch dick?” Rye asks with a growing smirk.

  “Nice try, but you’re not getting a look at this magnificent specimen, no matter how badly you want to.” Whip grabs his crotch and hefts it in Rye’s direction before rolling his eyes. “I’m trying to say, asshole, that men shouldn’t be worrying about how big their dicks are, but how to use them. I’ve had women weep with gratitude because they’re used to lazy cock.”

  Jax laughs at that. “Lazy cock. So fucking true. You get a woman to come on your dick, and she’s fucking hooked.”

  “Someone make it stop,” I mutter, putting the pillow back over my face.

  “Look, man,” Whip says somewhere around the vicinity of my head. “We’re just trying to give you some advice.”

  “Fuck all…” I tilt the pillow to the side to glare at him. “Sophie has been well satisfied. Repeatedly.”

  Hell, now I’m thinking of that look she has when she comes, the way her little nose wrinkles and her eyes squeeze tight as she arches her neck and moans… I put the pillow on my lap and snarl.

  “Are you sure?” Rye waggles his brow. “I mean she’s obviously not happy about something—”

  “She’s upset because I tore into her like a jealous, untrusting asshole, you git. Not because I couldn’t get her off. Fucking hell.”

  “Ah.”

  Yes, ah. As if that does me any good.

  Rye turns on the TV and settles down in a chair. “Oh, Supernatural is on.”

  “No,” I cut in, pained. “Not that one. Sophie has a thing for Dean. I can’t watch it without hearing her sigh and coo.” God, I miss her.

  Rye quickly changes the channel to a car show.

  Unfortunately, all I can think about is Sophie lusting over my Ferrari. Shit. The woman is threaded through every fiber of my existence. I’m unraveling.

  “I love her.” The words come out stilted, foreign on my tongue. But they are the truest part of me.

  “Of course you do,” Jax says with the patience of a father talking to an irritable toddler.

  Killian snorts. “We’ve all known since you threatened to kill Jax over her.”

  “I don’t recall such threats.” I only thought them. I was so blind back then, trying to convince myself Sophie was a passing fancy when I’d been falling for her from the moment she opened her mouth. My clever, chatty girl. She’s turned me on my head, made me a better man, made me live for the moment.

  I glance around. The guys are giving me my privacy by watching the TV. But they are here. For me. They’ll never leave me behind. My mates. My family.

  “I love you too,” I blurt out.

  And instantly regret it. My face burns as they all turn my way with varying degrees of shock in their expressions.

  Rye gurgles on a laugh.

  “Fuck,” I mutter. “That’s not… You know what I mean. You’re my mates.”

  “‘In Whoville they say that the Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day,’” Killian drawls.

  They all laugh.

  “Sod off,” I growl, fighting a smile. But I won’t retreat anymore. Sophie was right; it hurts both me and them when I do that. I look each of them in the eye. “I mean it.”

  Whip tosses himself on me, which bloody hurts, and musses my hair. “We love you too, Scottie boy.”

  I shove him to the floor. “Animals, the lot of you.” But I feel better. Except I don’t. Not at all. “I am fucked, aren’t I?”

  “Pretty much,” Killian says with a nod.

  “I’m not falling in love,” Jax declares. “I have enough fucked emotions to work through.”

  “Famous last words, dude,” Whips says from the floor.

  “So, did you apologize to Sophie?” Jax asks.

  “Of course. But I cocked it up, and she asked for space.”

  “You didn’t give her space, did you?” Killian sounds horrified.

  It gives me pause, and I peer up at him. “Wasn’t I supposed to?”

  “No, you don’t give them space,” he wails. “That’s only some shit they say to see if you’ll fight for them.”

  Outrage punches through me. “Why the bloody hell would they do that to us?”

  “To see if we’re paying attention?” Jax offers.

  “To torture us?” Rye counters.

  “It’s simply biology,” Whip says as if he’s suddenly an expert. “Men are wired to love the hunt, and women are wired to love being hunted.”

  “That sounds like something women would call sexist,” I counter.

  “They might protest,” Whip agrees. “But deep down they know it’s true.”

  “Women should come with instructions.” Rye takes a sip of his beer and stares down at the bottle. “Or a warning label.”

  Killian laughs. “They do, man. You just have to learn how to read them. Problem is, most of us don’t learn how until a woman has knocked us on our asses. Trial by fire, my friends. And you will burn.”

  “Killian James, prophet of doom,” I say, knowing he’s right. And hating it.

  “Look,” he kicks my foot. “You fucked up. Now you gotta go make a gesture that shows her she’s the most important person in your life.”

  “Should I go sing a song that calls her an easy lay?” I ask. Which is low, because that was Killian’s mistake with Libby.

  The guys snicker, and Killian kicks me again. “I married the girl, jackass, so I won.”

  Marriage isn’t something I’ve ever wanted, or even considered. But I could marry Sophie. I picture it: my ring on her finger, all my assets guaranteed to go to her. She’d be financially safe for life. She’d be mine for life. And instead of the future being a blank wall I never examine, it would be sunshine and light. It would be her happy laughter and soft warmth. Perfection.

  Yearning adds to the ache in my heart.

  I haul myself up, wincing at the pain in my chest and stomach. “Everyone out. I have gestures to plan.”

  “Thatta boy, Scottie.” Rye slaps my shoulder. “Just, whatever you do
, don’t make it a Star Trek theme.”

  Because I know it will please them, I flip the finger as I head toward the shower.

  My progress stops when Brenna bursts into the room.

  “You complete asshole,” she says by way of greeting.

  “I see you’ve been talking to Sophie.” I refrain from demanding where she is and how she’s doing. But only just.

  Brenna sneers. “Did you really tell Jules to send Sophie home? Like she’s some fucking lackey you can fob off when things get difficult?”

  My blood runs cold. “What?”

  “Sophie heard you telling Jules to put her on a plane. Not first class this time? Ring a fucking bell?”

  “Oh, shit,” Rye says somewhere behind me.

  I ignore him, horror prickling my skin and making my ears ring. Sophie thinks I want her gone? No wonder she appeared so hurt, lashing out at me like the walking wounded. And I gave her space with that to brood on all night.

  “I was talking about Jennifer, the sodding roadie who let that fuckwit Martin into Jax’s room! Sophie is my life, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Oh,” Brenna says, looking pleased. “Well, that’s good.” But then her happy face falls. “Actually, it’s bad.”

  “Why?” It’s all I can do not to grab Brenna and shake her.

  Brenna’s nose wrinkles. “She, ah, left a note saying she was going ‘on walkabout’.”

  “What the fuck is a walkabout?” I roar.

  “Crocodile Dundee,” Killian calls out behind me. “You know, when he went roaming around the outback?”

  Sweet hell, my girl is a nut. An adorable little nut.

  “Where is she walking about?” I grit out.

  Brenna grimaces. “Australia. Her flight leaves at five.”

  My girl is an adorable, misguided, evil nut who I’m going spank as soon as I get my hands on her. I need to get to her. Oh, God help me, I need to make that gesture Killian was going on about.

  I might truly be ill when it’s all said and done. But I can do this. For her, I’ll do anything.

  I let out a breath and shove my hands into my hair to hold my pounding head.

  “All right,” I say. “All right, I need help, and I need it now.”

  And my mates, God love them all, rise to the occasion.

  “What do you need, Scottie?”

  “I need my lawyer, and I need to get on that plane.” I’ll make the rest up as I go along.

  * * *

  Sophie

  * * *

  They say you never really know what you have until you lose it. I’m not sure how accurate that is. I know what I have with Gabriel is something special, a connection few people are lucky enough to find. And yet here I sit on a plane that’s getting ready to take me away from him.

  Of all the rash, impulsive things I’ve done in my life, this one really takes the cake.

  I’m so angry with myself that my nails are digging into the meat of my palms. I should have stayed and apologized for not explaining things straightaway, for saying hurtful words in an attempt to protect myself. Gabriel deserves that. He deserves the world. A few asshole comments aside, he is the best man I have ever known. And I want to continue to know him, to care for him.

  A passenger headed down the aisle bumps my shoulder with her butt and mutters a quick apology as she angles her way down the narrow passage. First class, this is not.

  With my salary, I could have paid for a premium-fare ticket. But I couldn’t fly that way. Not without him by my side. Luxury has lost its luster without Gabriel to share the experience.

  “Shit.” I grab my purse and yank it from beneath the seat in front of me.

  The man sitting next to me sends a curious glance my way.

  “I have to go,” I tell him, as if he needs to know.

  Dude gives me a salute as I scramble from my seat.

  It isn’t easy, navigating up the aisle while everyone else is boarding. I’m a salmon fighting my way upstream. Frustration prickles at my lids. I need off this plane. I need Gabriel.

  A flight attendant sees the struggle and meets me at the first emergency exit. “Is there a problem, miss?”

  “No problem.” I haul my purse strap higher up my shoulder. “I just need to get off.”

  She slowly looks me over.

  Great, I’m probably broadcasting crazy. Not something you ever want to do on an airplane.

  “Are you Ms. Sophie Darling?”

  “Ah…yes?”

  She smiles, going from weary to strangely affectionate. “Bene. I was on my way to find you.”

  “You were?” Shit, what did I do?

  She links her arm with mine. “Come with me.”

  I follow, because what else can I do? People give me looks, and I look right back. Hey there, tell my story if I’m Tasered, okay?

  But she doesn’t take me off the plane. She leads me into first class. My steps slow, a protest rising. I don’t know what the hell this is about, but I’m not accepting any charity…

  Then I see him. Crisp, gray three-piece suit, ice blue silk tie, coal black hair perfectly combed: the man of my heart. He sits in a cabin made for two, his eyes narrowed and tracking my movements as if he’s waiting for me to turn tail and run.

  Relief has me swaying. Joy has me embarrassingly close to tears.

  I’m so surprised, I’ve lost the ability to function, and the flight attendant all but pushes me into my seat.

  “Gabriel? What are you doing here?”

  His brow quirks. “Coming after you, obviously.”

  God, his voice, all low and rich and rumbly. And irritable. I’ve missed it so.

  “But you hate flying. This flight is twenty hours long!”

  He grimaces, going green at the edges. “Yes, I know. You’re more important.”

  My heart goes all fluttery, and I want to jump in his lap and kiss the hell out of him. But the flight crew is clearly getting ready to close the doors.

  “You can’t suffer for that long. I won’t allow it. We have to get off.” I grab his hand and tug, but he pulls me back down.

  “I have things I need to say.” His expression is set, and I know he won’t be swayed.

  “Okay…”

  As if facing a firing squad, he sets his shoulders and lifts his chin. But the look in his eyes is vulnerable, exposed.

  “First and most importantly, I love you. I have never said that to a woman, and I will never say that to any other but you. I’ve lived long enough to know that you are completely it for me. This is a done deal—signed, notarized, what have you.”

  Happiness bubbles through my veins like warm champagne. “Gabriel…”

  “I’m not finished.”

  He looks so adorably committed to having his say that I bite back a smile. “Okay.”

  He nods, takes a breath. “I will say the wrong words from time to time. And I will cock things up. That’s a given, unfortunately. But there will never, ever be a time when I do not love you or want you in my life.”

  I blink rapidly, stunned to tears.

  He scowls as if annoyed at himself and bends down to pull a slim file out of his case. He hands it to me. “This is for you.”

  My hands are shaking too hard to open the damn thing. “What is this?”

  “My will. I almost didn’t get it done on time,” he muses. “I’ve left everything to you.”

  My words come out in a high squeak. “What? Why? What?”

  He looks at me, perfectly calm, as if he hasn’t just leveled me. “I want to give you tangible proof that—whether you marry me or not—my life is literally linked with yours until the day I die. Actually, long after I die, too, if you want to be technical.”

  “Marry you?” My cheeks are tingling.

  His brows lift in confusion. “I hand you everything I own, and that’s what you focus on?”

  Because the rest doesn’t matter; I can never conceive of a life he isn’t in. “Answer the question, sunshine.”

&
nbsp; “Yes, I’m going to want to do that. As soon as possible, if I have my way.” Uncertainty fills his eyes. “That is if you’ll have me, of course.”

  I gape at him, words stuck in my throat.

  Gabriel tugs at his cuffs. “If you do not, I should warn you now, you’ll have a hard time getting rid of me. I can be persistent when I want something.”

  I press my hand to my hot cheek. “Holy shit. I’m dizzy. Did you…was that a proposal? I can’t tell.”

  “Sod all,” he mutters, flushing. “I told you I’d cock things up—”

  I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing his mouth to shut him up. He freezes for a second, as if too surprised to react, and then kisses me back, taking control. His hands hold my nape, and he goes at my mouth as if I’m the only one who can give him air.

  It feels so good, and I’ve missed him so desperately, that I do cry—soft tears that he kisses away, whispering words of reassurance, stroking my cheeks with the rough pads of his thumbs.

  I give him a watery smile when we break apart.

  “You didn’t mess anything up,” I tell him, smoothing my hand over his hair. “You’re perfect. I love you, sunshine. Exactly how you are.”

  He lets out a lengthy sigh and rests his forehead against mine. “Thank Christ for that.” His strong fingers grip my hips. “Tell me again.”

  “I love you, Gabriel Scott.”

  His smile is so sweetly pleased, I have to kiss it, taste it.

  “Once more,” he demands. “I’m not certain I heard you correctly.”

  “I love you, Gabriel Sunshine Scott!” My shout earns a couple of stares and a few chuckles.

  Gabriel grins like it’s Christmas morning. “I love you too, Sophie Chatty Girl Darling. More than you’ll every know.”

  I pepper him with kisses because he’s here, and he’s mine. “I’m sorry I ran off. I’m sorry I didn’t explain myself right away. It hurt you, and I never want you to hurt.”

  “Thank you,” he says between my attacks on his mouth. But then he holds me still by cupping my cheeks. “I am rather annoyed about one thing, however. How could you have thought I’d send you away?” His gaze warms, but his expression is solemn. “You’re my life, chatty girl. It has no joy without you in it.”