Fallen (8 page)

Eventually we stopped in front of a huge, seven-story building. The roof’s dark gray shingles extended down to the top floor, and light gray stone encased the building. The street entrance to the lobby was a giant archway, with a gargoyle on each side. The windows were all arched and little wrought iron terraces sat outside them, some with plants and flowers. The exception was the top floor. It had a terrace that ran the whole length of the building. 

I climbed out of the car, staring up in disbelief. “
This
is where you live?”

“Yep. Up in the penthouse.”

Oh my…

As my mouth hit the ground, he came to stand next to me, suitcases in hand. “Ready?”

I nodded dumbly, incapable of speech at the moment, and followed him inside. Black streaked the otherwise white marble floors of the lobby, and a large crystal chandelier hung overhead. The walls were mostly windows, giving us a great view of the nighttime streets. 

A second later the elevator dinged, its shiny gold doors sliding open to reveal a blood red interior. There was even a velvet bench lining the back wall.

Inside, Gabriel pulled out his keys and slid one into a special slot below the row of buttons. With the key still in place, he pressed the button for the top floor. The doors slid closed and he removed it.

“I don’t ever use this elevator,” he said as we ascended. “I’ve got a private service elevator down in the garage, but it was quicker to have him drop us out in front.”

“You have your own elevator?”

He nodded. “One of the many perks of owning the penthouse.”

We came to a stop and the doors slid open, exposing a white foyer with gleaming marble floors, much like in the lobby, only without the streaks of black. I followed him into his apartment, to his spacious living room. It was very modern, with clean lines and sleek profiles, all decorated in shades of gray, from the huge sectional couch to the coffee table and area rug under it. The only things that weren’t gray: the ginormous flat screen TV opposite the couch, nestled between rows of floor-to-ceiling shelves, where DVDs and books sat. Behind the couch, the entire wall was one big window. 

I walked over and peered out over the city. You could see the Eiffel Tower from here. It was lit up like a Christmas tree.

Gabriel set his bags down and gestured to the hallway. “Your room’s down here.”

He led the way down the white corridor, stopping at the first door on the right. The room looked like it was straight out of Versailles. An intricately carved gold headboard peeked out from behind a sea of throw pillows on the queen-sized bed. They matched the plush, silky bedding of gold and blush damask perfectly. The rest of the furniture—dresser, nightstand, vanity, and mirror—was also gold and delicately carved, with scrolling claw feet. French doors sat parallel to the bed, leading out to a generous terrace. Thick drapes in the same blush and gold fabric framed the doors. Cream walls and crown molding rounded out the room.

If not for my heavy heart, I would’ve felt like I was in a fairy tale.

He cleared his throat. “Is this…okay?”

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured, reaching out to touch the soft bedding.

“I’m glad you like it.” He crossed over to a set of double doors and pushed them open. “Closet and bathroom’s in here.”

I walked across the threshold, into the bathroom that was three times the size of my dorm room. Cream tiles covered the floor and shower. A clawfoot tub sat off to the side, under a large window. A caddy hung off the tub’s lip, stocked with soaps, oils, and a loofah. I glanced over to the shower, seeing bottles of shampoo and conditioner already lining the shelves. The double sink vanity opposite the shower had cream-colored candles and bottles of perfume nestled between the sinks.

Huh. I thought Gabriel didn’t have girlfriends. “Whose stuff is this?”

“It’s yours. I had someone pick up some things for you.”

Some
expensive things
, I saw, noting the perfumes were mostly Chanel, and the soap was some fancy French shit. “You didn’t have to do all this. I’d have been fine with shampoo from the dollar store.”

Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall. “Then you’re probably not gonna like what’s in your closet.”

My brow arched as I brushed past him, walking to the door we’d passed on the way into the bathroom. I flipped on the light switch, stopping dead in my tracks.

Rows and rows of clothes filled the gargantuan closet. My mouth dropped open so far it nearly broke my jaw. 

Sweet baby Jesus…

I ran my hand along the hanging fabrics, stopping at heavy burgundy silk. It was a strapless cocktail dress with a bejeweled black lace sash. The clear stones glimmered in the closet’s recessed lighting, making them look like diamonds. Hell, for all I knew, they
were
diamonds.

With my fingers still on the dress, I scanned the rest of the clothes. There were t-shirts, blouses, sweaters, dresses, pants, jeans… At the end of the long closet sat floor-to-ceiling cubbyholes, filled with heels, flats, and sneakers.

Gabriel had bought me an entire wardrobe.

I took the dress in my hands off the hanger and inspected it for a price tag. I finally found one inside and nearly shit myself. 

Four thousand
euros for a flippin’ dress? Was he crazy?

I didn’t know the exact exchange ratio between euros and dollars, but they weren’t too far off. Not like pesos or yen.

“I almost forgot.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a set of keys and a black credit card. “These go to my Mercedes downstairs in the garage. There’s a house key on there as well,” he said as he handed everything over. “The card has no limit, so knock yourself out.”

Staring at the shiny card in my hand, I ran my thumb over the raised EMILY NORTHAM on the bottom.

I couldn’t accept this. Not the card, the car, or the closet-full of haute couture. It was too much.
Way
too much.

I shook my head and handed the stuff back to Gabriel. “I can’t take this.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“You’ve already done so much for me. I can’t in good conscience take your money too.”

The corner of his mouth lifted up into a half-smirk. “Okay then, how will you pay for things?”

I shrugged and put the dress back. “I’ll get a job.” I pictured myself working as a waitress in a café, serving espresso to people wearing berets and red scarves around their necks. Across the cobblestone street was a bakery, the scent of French bread and coffee mixing in the air—

“Parlez-vous français?”

Gabriel’s voice interrupted my fantasy, and I stared at him. “Come again?”

The
other
corner of his mouth lifted up, forming a full-on smirk. “How’re you gonna get a job when you don’t speak the language?”

Dang it, I hadn’t thought of that. Well, shit.

Stupid Gabriel and his smug face…

Feeling defiant, I stuck my chin out and said, “I’ll learn.”

“And until you do, you can use this.” He punctuated each word as he stuck the card back in my hand, that smartass “I told you so” look still plastered on his face.

I crossed my arms, the card digging into my palm as my jaw twitched. I wanted to smack the look right off his face. “What about the clothes? I could get by with less than a third of what’s here.”

“The clothes stay. All of them.” He turned and started walking out. “I’ll let you get settled. Let me know if you need anything.” And just like that, he was gone.

An hour later, I stepped out of the bathtub and grabbed a fluffy white robe, wincing as I pulled it around my shoulders. I hadn’t bathed since the—
incident
—at the store, and then I’d been on a plane all day long, so I felt gross and dirty. And in my zealous attempt to get clean, I’d scrubbed damn near every inch of myself raw.

After I clipped up my wet hair, I went in search of something to wear. I thumbed through the racks of clothes, still amazed that I had all this at my disposal. And whoever picked out all this stuff had a real eye for fashion.

I grabbed some yoga pants and a vintage-looking t-shirt, but I couldn’t find any underwear for the life of me. Remembering the dresser in my room, I turned off the light and shut the closet door before heading for it.

Inside the top drawer, black, white, nude, and pale pink scraps of lace sat neatly folded. They all looked tiny and sheer. I think they were supposed to be bras and panties. I picked up a bra—a black lacy thing—and frowned. This wasn’t underwear. It was
lingerie
. 

Most of the tag was in French, but I could read the price. A hundred and seventy-five euros. For a bra. 

A hundred and seventy-five bucks, and I bet he didn’t even get the size right
, I thought as I checked the inside tag. 

Hmm. The sizing was European, so I had no idea if it was right or not.

I tossed it back in the drawer and picked up the matching lace panties, or I guess what the French called panties. It looked more like floss to me. 

The drawer next to it had more lace…and silk. These pieces looked bigger.

What the
—

My eyes bulged as I pulled out the black lace and silk number on top. It was a teddy. Or what was left of a teddy after someone took scissors to it. Silk frills sat around the waist of the open-sided garment, and a swath of lace ran down the middle of the stomach, connecting the fabric-less cups and crotchless bottom. This thing screamed “fuck me.” 

Heat fanned my face as my jaw clenched. I threw it down on the dresser and pulled my clothes on, underwear be damned. Now I wasn’t a prude, and given the right situation, I’d have no problem wearing this, but for Gabriel to commission someone into buying this for me? Totally crossing the line. Did he expect me to spread my legs as thanks for everything he’d done?

I grabbed the teddy and flung the door open, ready to give Gabriel a piece of my very pissed off mind.

Chapter Sixteen

GABRIEL

“What the hell is this?” Emily demanded as she stormed into my bedroom, throwing a piece of clothing at me.

Holy shit, she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her tits strained against her t-shirt, bouncing as she barged in. 

Jesus Christ, her nipples are hard.

I cleared my throat and tore my eyes away, bringing them down to the fabric clutched in my hand. Spreading out the scraps of black lace and silk, I saw the offending object clearly.

An image of her in the revealing lingerie immediately popped into my head, and my eyes went to her breasts.

“Hey asshole, my face is up here.” Her harsh voice and suddenly crossed arms made me jerk my head up.

My cheeks burned, and I scowled. Blushing was
not
something I did. Ever. “Don’t come in here tits a-blazing next time, and I won’t have to stare.” I tossed the scrap of clothing back to her.

Catching it, her face turned deadly. “Why would you tell someone to buy this for me? Did you think I’d fuck you as some kind of thank you for everything?”

Goddamn it, Joseph… “Of course not,” I muttered. “And I didn’t
tell
anyone to buy this for you. I simply said you needed everything. I didn’t know he’d come back with…
that
.” I gestured to the clump of lace and silk she had clutched in her hand. 

Her death-glare slowly faded as the apples of her cheeks pinkened. “Oh…” 

A lop-sided grin spread across my face. I couldn’t help it. I just had to gloat. “Tell me, Em, how does that crow taste? I bet it’s bitter, right?”

Her nostrils flared as she silently fumed. Turning on her heel to leave, she mumbled, “I’m going to bed.”

God, I loved pissing her off. “Sweet dreams, sugar tits,” I called out.

With her back to me, she flipped me the bird before disappearing out my bedroom door.

Later that night, I slid into bed, letting out a groan at the familiar softness. I’d missed this bed. Flipping over, I reached up to turn off the light as a high-pitched scream broke through the quiet apartment.

I was on my feet in a flash, running full-speed to Em’s room. The living room and hallways passed me in a blur. Bursting through her door, I skidded to a halt.

She was asleep, thrashing and crying through her dream.

I jogged over and knelt beside the bed, shaking her shoulders. “Em, wake up.”

She jerked awake, eyes wide and panicked as she looked around the room, her breathing rapid and shallow. “It was just a dream,” she murmured to herself.

Looked more like a nightmare to me. One that I was all too familiar with. “You okay?” I knew the answer, but felt like I should still ask.

She untangled her legs from the sheets and wiped her crying eyes. “No.”

Didn’t think so.

I stayed there for a moment, unsure of what to do. “Do you want to talk about it?” From the scent of her fear and salty tears permeating the room, I knew it had to have been bad.

She shook her head as fresh tears welled up.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to.” 

As I stood to leave, she grabbed my hand. “Stay with me until I fall asleep?” 

I stared at our interlocked hands. If it had been anybody else that asked, I would’ve said no. This was too personal, too intimate for just anyone. But this was
not
just anyone. This wasn’t some random girl I’d brought home to bag. This was Em. 

She pushed back the covers, and I looked up to her face, her big eyes shiny and pleading. “Please?” she whispered.

How could I say no to that face? I climbed in next to her as she lay on her side, facing me. On my back, I folded my hands behind my head and stared up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” she said. “I didn’t mean to come in there ‘tits a-blazing’ like that.”

I smiled and looked over, seeing her grin as well. “Don’t be. It was a beautiful sight.”

Her eyes widened as she slapped my arm. 

I laughed and said, “What? It was.”

Her lips pressed together as she fought her smile. “Pig.”

I shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”