Chapter 60

“Your room is so impersonal,” I commented, looking around. It was modern and carefully designed, but bland. A few framed pictures were scattered here and there, but it looked like a vampire or serial killer had tried to personalize a showpiece by adding the ghost of a human touch.

“We can make any changes you like,” Gabriel replied, sleepily nuzzling his neck against my forehead. It tickled.

The sex we’d just had should have calmed me down, but instead, it made me feel even more exhilarated. I’d never had sex while intoxicated before, and it was…wow. Everything was heightened, and I still wasn’t tired. Gabriel wasn’t a big cuddler, but he’d caged me in his arms. I’m guessing that was more to do with preventing me from running off and doing something stupid while he fell asleep next to me. I’d been sleeping fine, but my husband had been pulling many all-nighters.

He was tired. And I was like a toddler on a sugar rush, keeping him awake by rambling about every thought that popped into my head. Admittedly, he was pretending to listen rather patiently, instead of just dozing off.

“I think your house is impersonal,” I said, poking his nose. He grudgingly opened his eyes.

“Please,” he scoffed. “My house is beautiful.”

“Yeah, beautiful like a showpiece. Like you took a page out of Vogue and brought it to life,” I told him. “There’s nothing that makes it seem like it belongs to you. Except your mom’s paintings—I think that’s a nice touch.”

“First of all, I would never decorate my house based on Vogue. That’s too mainstream.” He moved a little away from me, as if realizing I wouldn’t let him sleep until I did, and that wasn’t happening anytime soon. I frowned, missing his touch almost immediately. “Secondly, those paintings are horrendous.”

My hand flew to my mouth dramatically. “Did you just call your mom’s paintings horrendous?”

“They are.”

“Do you think my paintings are horrendous?” My eyes narrowed.

“Baby, I think you’re Picasso’s rebirth.”

“I like Van Gogh more.”

“Because he was crazy like you?”

My mouth gaped open. He laughed at his own joke while I hit him on his chest. He easily caught my hands, pulling me close again and entrapping me in his arms.

“Anything you do is a masterpiece,” he promised sincerely.

I sighed, letting a small smile slip through. “Why do you like me so much?”

He kissed my nose. “Because you’re pretty.” He kissed my left eye. “Because you’re kind.” He kissed my right eye. “Because you’re generous.” He kissed my left cheek. “Because you’re a good painter.” He kissed my right cheek. “Because you’re such a good addition to my office.” He kissed my forehead. “And because you’re my wife.” He kissed my lips, and the feathery feeling of so many quick kisses tickled me enough to make me laugh.

“As much as I loved that answer,” I played with the buttons of his shirt, “I meant you hated me at first. What made you change your mind?”

“Min, I guess I had sex with you, and I’ve been obsessed ever since,” he joked, and I giggled again.

“By the way, I asked about your ring,” he added, as if he’d just remembered. “I mean, the one you bought for me.”

“You did!”

“Yeah. They said they messed up the engraving. They’ll deliver it in a couple of weeks.”

I frowned. “They told you I asked them to engrave something? Such for a surprise!”

“Only that,” he promised. “Not what the engraving is.”

“Hmm.”

“You want to sleep now?”

I shook my head.

“Why not, Freckles?”

“You like my freckles?” I looked up at him.

“I love them.” He wiped a thumb across the faint freckles scattered around the bridge of my nose and the tops of my cheeks. “It’s the first thing I noticed about you when I saw you in your room, and all I could think was, ‘Why did she cover them during the wedding?’ They’re pretty.”

“Well, I guess the makeup artists your family hired didn’t think my freckles fit in with your million-dollar society.”

“Nonsense,” his thumb trailed down my chin. “They were just jealous they didn’t have them.”

I giggled, but it faded as a looming thought settled in. “I feel scared.”

“Of what, sweetheart?”

I continued playing with his shirt buttons. “Sometimes, when I’m out in public without you, I feel watched. Maybe I’m just paranoid, but I feel it all the time, and I feel scared.”

“It’s just your bodyguard watching you, Freckles.”

“Maybe.” I nodded. “When I was taken, they drugged me, and they…they didn’t know I was awake, so I pretended to be asleep. I…I had to pretend to be okay with their touch so they wouldn’t drug me again. So I could be aware of what they were doing to me.”

I could feel him stiffen with every word. “They touched you…inappropriately?”

“A little,” I nodded. “But it was mostly words, about what they would do to me.”

His breathing became ragged. “The man who was with you—he ran before I got to you. We captured his partner, the one who came to collect the money. Freckles, I’ve broken every bone in his body. He’s screamed a hundred times more than you, and he’ll live the rest of his life in that pain because he dared to put his filthy hands on you. I promise.”

“He was the good one, I think,” I said carefully. “He kept telling the other guy not to touch me and to stay away from me. The one who stayed with me, though, seemed like he had a personal vendetta against you. He kept saying how you and your family ruined him, and this was his revenge. At least, I think so. Everything is just a blur.”

“Don’t think about it,” he said, kissing my forehead, his hold tightening. “The best detectives in town are trying to find the other guy, and I won’t stop until I have his head on a platter in front of you, okay?”

I nodded, forcing a smile back onto my lips, even though it was fake. “That’s not all I’m scared of.”

“Then what is it, baby?”

“Every time I’ve been happy, I’ve lost it,” I told him. “First, my Grandma. Then, my parents. Then, Grandpa got cancer. And when I was just learning to be happy here, Lily happened.”

“Freckles, I am so sorry about what happened to you in the past,” he said. “But now you’re with me, and I will do everything in my power to make sure you are always happy. Always, okay?”

“You won’t go back to Lily?” I asked in a small voice, my insecurity evident as I held up my pinky finger like a little girl.

“I won’t,” he promised, linking his finger with mine and raising it to his lips to kiss my knuckles. “Cross my heart.”