Abbey shot straight up. She found herself alone. Warm spring sunlight bathed the loft. She ran a hand through her rumpled hair then draped the thick, white down comforter around herself. Thankfully, Barker had given her the day off now that he had hired a part-time waitress. She would certainly have been late for work.
Her gaze darted around the room. Where had Sloan gone? Did he just leave her here? She sank back into the pillows behind her. The night had been mind-blowing. Making love to him still made her shiver. Sleeping snuggled next to him was incredible. It doesn’t explain where he took off to.
Abbey laughed to herself. At least she had lost her virginity to her husband. He may be her husband on paper only, but he was still her husband.
Her stomach growled as the savory aroma of breakfast drifted from the kitchen below. She slid from the bed, wrapping the duvet around her naked body. She carefully descended the staircase to the lower level.
Sloan stood over the stove dressed in his black Armani slacks and dress shirt. The tie and coat laid abandoned on the island. He nudged the sleeves past his elbows and then scraped at a large, cast iron fry pan with a spatula. A chopping block of vegetables and a glass bowl of egg residue sat on the charcoal-colored granite island. He turned as he heard the sound of the fabric slipping across the marble floor and smiled warmly.
“Good morning, luv. Sleep well?”
Abbey giggled as she kicked the comforter ahead of her with each step. “Next to you? Of course I did.”
Sloan laughed as he took hold of her hips. He lifted her like a child and sat her on the island. Then he handed her the plate sitting next to the stove. “Breakfast. Spinach and tomato omelet with feta cheese.”
Murmuring her thanks, she stabbed at the eggs. She was starving. This made sense, since she forgot to eat dinner the night before and spent the whole night burning calories. She watched as he finished cooking his own.
“You’re dressed awful fancy to be cooking breakfast,” Abbey commented with her mouth full.
Sloan scraped under the omelet in the pan to loosen it. “I’m leaving shortly to fly to San Francisco for a few days.”
She stopped chewing. “Oh.”
He slid the omelet onto his plate then set the spatula and pan on the counter. Then, picking up his plate, he turned toward her. “We need to go over some details, Abigail.” Sloan cut free a piece of omelet with his fork and slipped it in his mouth.
“All right,” she answered uneasily. What details do we need to go over? Details about our relationship? What more does he want?
“While I’m gone, you’re not to leave this penthouse, understood?” he instructed. “Robert will be staying behind. If you need anything, you will call him, and he will get it for you.”
She set her plate down, shaking her head. “No, Sloan. I have a job.”
“Then you will call in and tell your employer you won’t be there.”
“No. I won’t.”
“Abigail, I will give you whatever money you lose from not working.”
“It’s not that. I need this job.”
He laughed. “No, you don’t. I will provide for you.”
“I can’t trust you Sloan. You lied to me before. Why wouldn’t you again?”
Abbey watched as Sloan glanced away. Her words must have hurt. I wish he understood. It’s going to take some time to heal from the betrayal he and Michael caused.
After a moment, Sloan turned back to her and smiled. “All right. Robert will drive you to and from your job. But when you’re not at work, you’re here. Non-negotiable.”
“I can’t go get a cup of coffee?” she whined.
He laughed. “Not without Robert.”
“I live it one of the worst parts of the city. You’re worried about be now?”
“You weren’t alone then.”
Abbey frowned at him. “The great Sloan O’Riley employs ghosts?”
“So to speak. Luv, there wasn’t a moment that one of us didn’t know where you were. Why do you think Robert is so ill-tempered with you? It was usually him.”
Abbey’s face darkened as she snarled. “I’m a grown woman, Sloan. I can take care of myself. Thank you for your concern, but I’ll be fine.” Sloan set his now empty plate in the sink. He leaned on the island with his palms pressed to the granite on either side of her. “I don’t deny that you’re a grown woman.” A smirk graced his lips. “I experienced every inch of you and enjoyed it immensely. Do you remember what I told you in the coffee shop?”
“You said quite a bit.”
“About why I didn’t want a relationship. Abigail, being with me puts you in danger, danger I can’t explain to you right now. You are mine. I take care of what is mine. You will just have to trust me for the time being. Non-negotiable.”
Her snarl melted away with his kiss. From the way his lips pressed against hers, it almost felt as if he were trying to memorize the way she tasted, how they felt. Is he going to miss me?
They parted. His brogue was deep and somewhat sad. “I have to gather a few more papers before I leave.”
Sloan helped her down from the counter before he disappeared into his office. She shuffled from the kitchen, clutching the comforter to her. She stopped short as Robert appeared from the foyer. Abbey hadn’t heard him come in.
Robert chuckled as his eyes raked her tousled figure. He certainly knew what had happened between her and Sloan the night before. “You’re stuck with me, little girl,” he announced.
She wrinkled her nose at him in disgust. With a huff, she stomped up the stairs to the loft to get dressed.
»»•««
The door next to the elevator was a stairwell. Abbey discovered it as she was planning her escape.
The first day Sloan left was pure torture. She was alone in the penthouse. It wasn’t that there was nothing to do. Poking around, she found shelves full of books in Sloan’s study. He had an extensive movie collection and three different video game systems with all the games imaginable. There was also the terrace to enjoy the beautiful, early spring day.
But being alone drove her insane. Every thought she had was of Sloan. She hated the gnawing, empty feeling in her gut. He told her to call if she needed him. But she knew his day was filled with one meeting after another as they put the final touches on the complex he owned. Is he even thinking of me? Doubt it. I can’t even imagine all that goes into a project that big. Remember the big pile of paperwork on his desk? I’m probably the last thing on his mind.
While she was in his study, she dug around for pieces of his past. After two hours of searching she found nothing. She collapsed in his chair with a huff. So much for that idea.
She tried her best but couldn’t help being a little insecure. Missing him made her wonder who he was with. How did I get so hung upon this guy? Other than the fact that he is sexy, smart, smooth, and perfect. Shit. Why did I do that to myself?
Finally, by dinner, Abbey had enough of the silence of the penthouse. She picked up her purse and snuck out the door. Chinese sounded good, and she needed some human company. For the first time, Sloan and the San Francisco complex didn’t fill her mind. The anticipation of a big bowl of orange chicken did.
She stopped short two steps from her destination. Robert stood in the lobby between the banks of elevators, an unmovable sentry following Sloan’s orders. Without a word, he pointed to where she had come from. She tried to protest, tried to persuade him to let her leave just for dinner. Big, bad Robert will relent. He certainly doesn’t want to be my errand boy.
Abbey was very, very wrong. With a snap of his fingers, he ordered her upstairs.
“I’m hungry,” Abbey stated with a huff.
“Fantastic. Go back upstairs,” Robert ordered.
“No.”
“Where are you going then?”
“I’m going to that little Chinese place down the block. I’ll be back in an hour.”
Robert grinned at her. “Well, what do you know? Chinese sounds good. I’ll j
oin you.”
“Seriously.”
“Serious as a heart attack.” He opened the door, ushering her through. “After you.”
Abbey groaned as she passed by him. He was the last person she wanted to go to dinner with but she didn’t seem to have an option. She heard him speak behind her. “Am I that bad?”
“I don’t understand what the big deal is. Why can’t I be alone now? I was before and I was just fine.”
“Do you have any idea how many nights I slept in the Hummer outside that rat trap you call an apartment? I should have just pounded on your door and invited myself in.”
She stopped to scan him from head to toe. “You wouldn’t fit.”
“Are you saying I’m fat?”
“Not fat. That’s not fat. It’s muscle. But yes, you’re big.”
“Just do us all a favor. Stop bitching, be a good girl and stay put. All right?”
“We’ll see.” Dinner went by quietly between the two of them. Right before bed, Sloan called her cell phone. She was ready to lash out, tell him exactly what she thought of his demands. But she couldn’t. Just the sound of his voice made her heart flutter.
For the few moments they were on the phone together the loneliness disappeared. He gently reiterated his demands of her. She didn’t hear a word he said. His brogue set off butterflies in her belly. However, he did cut the call short, saying he had to go. His call and his scent in the sheets of the bed set off a slow burn deep inside her and made her too miserable to sleep. She rolled to her back and sighed as she stared at the ceiling. Great. Screw Sloan once and now I’m too horny to sleep. Wonderful.
The next two days were better. When Abbey worked, she couldn’t think about Sloan and how much she missed him. Nevertheless, when three o’clock rolled around, she was climbing back into the Hummer and returning to her luxury prison.
Tonight was different though. She had been on her feet for over eight hours. She wanted Starbucks, and she wanted it now.
Abbey closed the door to the master bath—which, incidentally, was bigger than her whole apartment—to make it appear that she was inside. She took a few bills out of her purse and stuffed them in her jeans. Then, she slipped silently out of the penthouse and down the stairwell.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she stepped out onto the sidewalk. It felt great to be free, to be out among other people without someone breathing down her neck. With a huge smile, she started toward Starbucks.
Abbey didn’t make it half a block down the street before a deep voice boomed behind her. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? Didn’t I ask you to behave? Shit.”
She spun to face Robert. Lord, he’s intimidating. Taking a deep breath to buck up her courage, she told him, “I’m going to get a latte. I’ll be right back.”
“No you won’t. Go back to the penthouse,” he demanded.
“No. I want to get out of there for a bit.”
“Fine.” He strode past her toward the coffee shop. “Let’s go then.”
She gaped at him in disbelief. “We’re doing this again?”
He smiled at her smugly and continued, “You didn’t seriously think I would let you go alone?”
The walk to and from Starbucks was silent. Abbey fumed too much to talk, and she knew Robert had no interest in a conversation with her.
Her anger didn’t subside as she and Robert rode the elevator back to the top floor. “I want to go home,” she muttered.
“You are home,” he answered.
“I’m not home,” she growled. “I’m in prison.” Storming through the vestibule, she shoved the penthouse doors open. She slammed her paper cup on the end table harder than she meant to, spilling a little coffee in the process.
Robert followed her laughing. “Is that what you think?”
Abbey turned to look at him. “Yes, that’s what I think. What does it look like to you?”
He shook his head. “Are you really that stupid?”
“I’m not stupid.”
Robert strode across the room until he loomed over her. He was truly frightening. “This penthouse is Sloan’s sanctuary. It’s where he finds solace from the insanity in his life. No one is allowed here but Gordon, Bartholomew, and me.”
“He doesn’t bring anyone here to relieve his tension?” she quipped. “He’s a powerful man. I’m sure he gets very tense.”
He chuckled. “Abbey, the only woman who has stepped foot in this penthouse is you. Sloan doesn’t even have a cleaning lady. That’s how much he wants to keep the outside world away from here. This is his sanctuary, and he’s turned it into a fortress. To protect you.”
“I don’t need protection.”
He leaned down until he was nearly touching noses with her. “Everything Sloan loved was taken from him. He won’t have it happen again. There is very little Sloan truly loves now, and he protects it with his life.”
Abbey was at a loss for words. What Robert said didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense to her the other night when Sloan said it. “Are you saying…?”
“Am I saying Sloan loves you? Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”
“But what about the other women?”
“What other women?”
“I Googled him. I saw the pictures. I read the blogs and columns.”
He frowned at her. “What exactly do you know?”
“He’s an artist. And a businessman. He’s worth millions. And he’s been with a lot of beautiful women.”
Robert exhaled slowly. Why exactly is he relieved? Does this have to do with Sloan’s warning?
“He hasn’t been with anyone for almost a year, not since he met you.”
“What about the night clubs?”
“Sloan meets with business associates at the clubs. He makes deals. He’s not looking to get laid.”
“And this trip?”
“He has around-the-clock meetings, and when he’s not at meetings, he’s working on stuff for the next day. One step ahead of the competition—that’s Sloan’s philosophy in life.”
“Sloan—in love with me? That can’t be true,” she objected.
“Why would I lie to you? What benefit would I get from it?”
Falling silent, she stared wide-eyed around her. What Robert was saying was too much to take in.
“Stop looking at this place as a prison. It’s a palace, and Sloan has made you its queen and he, himself, your servant.”
“He’s Sloan O’Riley,” she protested weakly. “He’s not a servant by any means.”
“Precisely,” Robert answered coldly. “Be grateful for his generosity, his protection, and his love. He doesn’t give them often. Or easily. He can’t afford to.”
Without a word, he left her standing dumbstruck in the penthouse foyer, closing the doors behind him.
Chapter Thirteen
The only light in the penthouse came from the television. Abbey sat on the sofa in a tank top and a pair of print boxer shorts, her arms wrapped around her knees, pulling them against her chest. She had already taken her shower and gone to bed after telling Robert she didn’t want dinner. But she couldn’t sleep. Hoping a little television would make her drowsy, she turned on The Weather Channel. It didn’t work.
Robert’s words pounded in her brain. She fought against the idea that Sloan O’ Riley could possibly be in love with her, even though he had said so with his own lips. How can the powerful, rich, sexy Sloan have feelings for someone as plain and poor as me? They didn’t even come from the same world.
But Robert must be right. What does he have to gain from lying to me?
Abbey’s head turned as she heard the latch of the foyer door click open. Her heart slammed in her chest as Sloan stepped in, his laptop bag and duffle slung over his shoulder. She could tell by his deliberate actions that he was trying to be quiet so as not to wake her. He smiled when he saw her still awake.
“Hello, luv,” he greeted.
“Hi,” she breathed.
Exhaustion was evident
in his perfect face. Subtle circles formed under his ice blue eyes. His large frame slumped just a bit. Sloan set his luggage on the bottom step of the staircase.
“I didn’t expect you.”
“My meetings concluded early,” he answered as he collapsed into his armchair. “I was to leave tomorrow. I just wanted to get home, so I had the pilot make arrangements to fly out tonight.”
“Pilot?”
Sloan laughed. “I have my own jet, Abigail.”
Of course he does. Abbey felt herself fall further from his social circle.
“Unfortunately,” he continued, “that means I didn’t grab supper. And I skipped lunch so we could finish early. I’m starving.”
She shot up from the couch. “Do you want me to make you a sandwich?”
Sloan nodded appreciatively. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
Abbey scuttled into the kitchen. She dug a butcher-wrapped package of thick-cut slices of ham, a block of cheddar cheese, a head of lettuce, and a tomato from the refrigerator. She absentmindedly began to prepare his sandwich, Robert’s voice distracting her from concentrating on her task.
“Everything Sloan loved was taken from him. He won’t have it happen again. There is very little Sloan truly loves now, and he protects it with his life.”
It was a miracle she didn’t chop her finger off.
Abbey placed the pieces she prepared on a slice of whole wheat bread. Then, she squirted some mustard on a second slice and capped the sandwich with it. Taking a Guinness from the refrigerator, she popped the top off with the bottle opener that seemed to live on the granite island. She carried the plate and the beer into the living room.
Sloan sat in the darkness, his exhausted eyes focused on the glow from the television. He had found the remote and switched the television to Sports Center. She laughed a little. It was good to see the god-like Sloan O’Riley behaving like a normal guy.
Abbey handed the plate to Sloan and set the bottle of beer next to the armchair. He murmured another word of thanks before attacking the sandwich like a ravenous wolf.
Leaving him alone to eat, she returned to the kitchen to clean up the mess she had made. She shook her head violently to get Robert’s voice out of her head.
Black Irish Page 13