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Does someone have a P.I. on me or something? Or are the paparazzi just that desperate for material?
I reach over his desk and grab the mouse, scrolling up on the page, the headline reading,Could this mean the end of Bishop and Montague?
I glance up to find the URL on The Manhattan Herald’s website. Well, no wonder. I swear to God, someone on their staff must have it out for me there.
The brief paragraph below is pure speculation and tabloid fodder.
We have little to no photographic evidence of the heirs to two tech fortunes as a couple, but Gabriel seems to find plenty of time to spend with his new lady friend.
“How the hell do they even call themselves journalists?” I ask aloud. “They’re hellbent on destroying me.”
“You’ve done that just fine on your own.” He swings the monitor back toward him, that vein in his forehead making its appearance. “I wanted you photographed with your fiancee, not the wedding planner.”
“I’m doing what you told me to. I’ve been working with her planning this wedding every step of the way. You have proof right there.”
“What I have here is you looking at her like you want to fuck her.”
I mean, yeah, I’m smiling at her in a few of the photos. And yeah, I do want to fuck her. But he shouldn’t be able to infer one from the other.
“So you threaten meif I don’t take this seriously, and then when I do, I still get lectured?” I ask, ignoring his comment.
“Ms. Sweet is the help. Don’t forget it.”
My blood boils, but I keep my face expressionless. “People are more than just their professions.”
His gaze burns brighter. “Are you only saying that because you don’t have one?”
Low blow, Dad.
“I’m not in the wrong here. Serena was a few feet ahead of us in one of those photos, right out of frame. They’re spinning this how they want.”
“Then wipe that infatuated look off your face next time you meet with her.” He turns the computer monitor back toward him, giving me a level gaze. “It’d be a real shame if no one were to hire her again because they thought she was messing around with you.”
My heart stills. Is he threatening her?
I draw on every past instance of pretending his words don’t affect me. Otherwise I might reach over this massive desk and throttle him. If he senses the slightest hint there’s something real between us… I don’t know what he’s capable of doing. I can’t deny what my face is like in those photos, but at least I can set the record straight.
“Mackenzie’s job is her number one priority. She’s a model of professionalism and-” I swallow, this next part hard to admit, even if it is the truth. “And she’s made it very clear she’s not interested in risking that for a relationship with me.”
He studies my face, but at this point, I have no idea what’s on it. He must see my sincerity, though, because he finally nods. “Don’t fuck this up, Gabriel. Montague can still pull the plug if he wants on this buyout. It doesn’t go into effect untilafteryou’re married.”
I stand, making my way towards the door. “Message received.”
Now it’s just a matter of listening to it.