Marrying Mari (26 page)

“Gabe.” Ethan’s voice was odd. Gabriel looked up. Ethan held out his hand. In it was their triad ring. Mari had left it behind.

The rest of the day was a blur. They called Mari’s cell, the one they’d bought her after the crash. Her voice mail had clicked on immediately, probably a sign that she’d turned off her phone, but each man left a message for her asking her to call them. They’d taken the car to her apartment, but she wasn’t there. When her neighbor peered out, curious or nosy, Ethan asked if she’d seen Mari. The woman admitted it had been a week since she’d seen her.

They’d even gone to the messenger service, just in case Manny had lied about Mari’s presence. But he hadn’t.

After returning to the duplex, Ethan retreated into his office. Gabriel went directly to the gym and pounded the heavy bag, stopping only when his hands and arms ached, and he couldn’t see the bag anymore because his sweat-soaked hair was in the way.

Gabriel called Elaine, the manager of Insatiable, to say he wouldn’t be in. Crave was closed on Sunday, but the restaurant usually did big business from brunch to late supper. After taking a shower, he roamed through the apartment, coming to rest in the doorway to Mari’s bedroom. He had no idea what he was looking for, but he stood there anyway. He left another message on her voice mail.

He turned and went downstairs, to Ethan’s office. With an abrupt knock, he entered.

The other man was simply sitting at the desk, staring out over the park, one hand fisted on the desktop.

“Goddammit, we have to do something. Look for her. Fucking find her.” Gabe spoke fast.

“Where?”

“I have no idea in hell. But I’m going crazy waiting here. Let’s try her apartment again.” He began to pace. “What if she’s—”

“What?”

Gabe glared at his friend, although Ethan didn’t even look at him. “Stop being so fucking monosyllabic!”

“What if she’s decided we’re the biggest jerks on the planet? The two stupidest bastards alive? Is that what you mean?” Ethan asked. He stared at something in his hand.

“Yes, goddammit, that’s exactly what I mean. Do you even give a crap? Do you care that she thinks we think she’s a liar and a tramp?”

Ethan shoved up out of his chair and came at Gabriel. “Yes, I care! I have been sitting here trying to figure out where she might be and do you know what I realized? I don’t know anything about her. I don’t know who her friends are, where they live, who she hangs out with at work, what she likes to eat, what her hobbies are, what her favorite movie is, what her favorite color is, what she hates about being a bike messenger. Because I never asked. It has been all about you and me since we brought her into this dance. I never bothered to ask anything about her at all. I didn’t even ask if she was a virgin before I fucked her, because of course she couldn’t have been. Not in our world. You and I have never met a virgin. I was wrong about that. What else have I been wrong about?” He paced away, stared out the window. “She’s met my family. Your family. Been to the club and the restaurant. Been to the Colony. We showed her off like a prize last night, but I have no idea where she goes when she’s hurt or sad. I am a goddamned bastard.”

Gabriel stood silently, then came up behind his best friend and laid a hand on his shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was normal again. “It will be all right. She’ll come back.”

“Why would she come back, Gabe? Why?”

“Because she loves us. Because she knows we’re sorry. Because the universe wouldn’t take her away when we just found her.” Gabriel sent up a prayer as he said it. “Because she’s the sweetest, most generous soul in the world, and she wouldn’t leave us hanging. She’d want to kick our collective ass and then hand it to us in a brown paper bag.” He was relieved when Ethan’s mouth kicked up in a smile, albeit slowly and reluctantly.

“That’s true.”

“I think we should go to Insatiable. At the worst, we’re out of the house and not just butting heads. Avoiding Mrs. W’s walk of shame.” Gabe grinned, although it was hard. “We’ll call and tell her. At best, Mari tracks us down and lets us have it. And we’ll have food and wine to plead with.”

Ethan nodded. “She might forgive us over those rosemary and blue cheese croissants.”

“She might. Throw in the baklava, and we’re golden.”

They chuckled, although the sound wasn’t as cheerful as they’d hoped.

Chapter Eighteen

Two hours later, and Ethan wondered if they’d lost their minds. Gabe had already barked at the staff twice. They’d opened one bottle of cabernet, though neither was inclined to drink it and Ethan had switched to Scotch. Which he was nursing, in the hope of staying sober. Gabriel was getting more edgy as time passed.

Plates sat in front of them. The food was cold, but Gabe wouldn’t let the waiters take them away. And Ethan had the notion that Elaine had possibly told the staff to avoid the table, since they were getting a wide berth, unless Gabriel gestured to one of them.

Mari hadn’t shown yet.

His cell buzzed and he pressed the button. Gabriel sat up, staring at him.

It was Irene, and he shook his head at Gabe.

“What did you do?” his sister asked.

“What?” he countered.

“What happened last night? Why were you dragging your future mate out of the ball? I’d say you wanted to have sex, but your face didn’t say sex. It said ‘I AM A BIG ANGRY MAN.’” There was a pause. “Ethan, what happened?”

“There was a misunderstanding. Peter gave me some information and—”

“Peter? Why?”

“I asked him to look into something for me.”

“About Mari?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause. Then Irene spoke in an odd voice. “Brother dear, do you have any idea how much Peter hates you?”

He looked at the phone and at Gabriel. “What?”

“He hates you. He’s the second choice for everything and a sad one at that. He went to Harvard B-school to make the grade at the bank. After getting the Trust’s permission to go to an unauthorized school in France, the best program in the world, by the way,
you
swooped in and copped the job he wanted. Not that he could do what you do, just saying. Now he’s some mid-level administrator in the bank. Since you were twenty and he was eighteen, you’ve stolen his women. Again, not that you planned to, but they flocked to you. He sleeps with them after you, and they sigh your name and moan about your talent in the sack. Peter’s never done anything original or daring, and he blames you because he looks like a shadow puppet next to you.” She paused. “You didn’t know?”

“No, I—No.” Ethan rubbed his head.

“And you asked him to what? Investigate Mariella? The woman you hope to mate with, in a triad with Gabriel, who Peter also hates like poison? Holy shit.” Irene’s disgusted tone matched Ethan’s thoughts.

“Holy shit,” he agreed.

“How about you get off your collective backsides—because I assume Gabriel is right there with you—and apologize to her?”

“We would if we knew where she was.” Ethan pulled the phone away from his ear as Irene’s blistering monologue came through the wires. He waited until the noise died down, and asked, “Do you know where she is?”

“No, dumbass. But if I see her or hear from her, I’ll let her know you’re ready to grovel. And you’d better be ready.” With that, Irene clicked off.

“What did she say?”

Ethan sipped his Scotch. “That you and I are dumbasses.”

“Agreed.”

“And that Peter hates you and me and would love to do us dirt.” He stared at Gabriel. “Did you know that?”

Gabriel stared back. “Never liked him a lot, but no. Why?”

“Apparently because we got what he wanted.” Ethan shrugged.

Gabriel froze. “Ethan.”

Ethan looked up, then turned his head. Mari was headed right for them, in her biking gear. “Oh, thank God.” He stood up, and so did Gabriel.

Mari stood, looking at them.

They were all silent.

“Want to sit down?” Gabe asked.

She unzipped her jacket and unclipped her helmet, which they took for yes. Ethan stood aside and she slid into the booth, moving dead center. Carefully, each man sat at an end where they could see her but where she wasn’t crowded.

Gabriel looked at the nearest waiter, and the man ran for the kitchen. Three staffers came hurriedly out of the kitchen. One cleaned away the cold food and dirty plates. Ethan pushed the barely touched Scotch at him as well. One laid sparkling new china. One opened and poured a bottle of a pale golden-colored wine into three clean glasses and picked up Gabriel’s discarded cabernet. They left.

Gabe took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Baby, we didn’t know where you were. We were… I was worried about you. I was scared fucking stiff.” Ethan’s voice was calm but gravel-rough. Mari winced.

“I’m fine. I just went for a ride.”

“A long ride,” Ethan said quietly.

Gabe looked up, ready to snap, but she spoke first. “Yes, a long ride. I had a lot to think about.”

Gabriel jumped in, “I—”

She held up a hand. “I’m hungry. I’d like to eat and then go somewhere we can talk. Privately. Is that all right?” Her voice was even and reasonable. It only broke once.

Ethan nodded. Gabe said, “Yes, sugar, whatever you want.”

Mari said, “Okay, then,” and shut up.

The staff was back with plates filled with delicious food. Gabriel knew he’d have to apologize to everyone and give out some big tips before this was over.

The three of them ate, silently.

It was ridiculous. He couldn’t taste anything he put in his mouth. Ethan reached out a hand as if he wanted to touch her, but pulled it back. Gabe figured they’d fucked up so enormously they should wait until the two of them could properly grovel. The booth was big enough that none of them had to touch at all. He remembered that the last time they’d been together at this table, he’d sat right beside her.

“What is that?” Mari’s voice was quiet.

He looked at her. She was looking at the pasta on his plate. He stared down at it, too. “Ravioli.”

“Can I try it?”

“Uh, yes, of course,” Gabriel stuttered, and filled a fork for her.

She simply opened her mouth, and he fed it to her. He had to slide closer to do so. She reached out and laid a hand on his wrist to steady him. His pulse jerked at her light touch.

“Thanks. It’s good.” She glanced at Ethan, and he held up a fork filled with roasted chicken
en croute
. She opened her lips, and he tucked the forkful carefully inside. In turn she fed Ethan, then Gabriel each a bite of her salmon.

Ethan couldn’t think of the words he needed. “The salmon, it’s great.” He winced.

They finished the main course in silence. The staff took the dirty plates away again, and brought one dessert plate with three forks.
Baklava.

Ethan saw Mari smile a tiny smile and felt something unclench in his chest.

The staff brought espresso, and Ethan frowned at them, but Gabriel nodded. “Thanks,” he said. “That’s it.” The waiters blinked and scattered.

Mari circled her cup with her spoon, over and over.

“Let’s go,” Ethan said abruptly. Gabe looked startled, but she said, “Yes,” and he got up, too, immediately.

They watched her exit the booth and pull on her jacket, zip it up. Sling the helmet’s straps over her arm.

“Office?” Ethan asked tersely.

“Home.”

They both looked at her.

“Okay,” Gabriel said, and punched Eli’s number. “We’re ready,” he said.

“Poor Eli.”

“He likes it,” Gabe said and closed the phone.

Ethan was silent, holding in his pocket in one hand the most precious item in the world. He slid his little finger into the triad ring, but it only went as far as the first knuckle. He rubbed his thumb over it like a talisman of good luck, silently repeating the same prayer.
Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease
.

They walked to the curb. It was raining. “Like last time,” Mariella said.

Her bike was under the watchful eye of the doorman. He gave it to her, smiling. She smiled back, and the pleasure of her smile blew across Gabriel’s heart like a warm breeze. His aching heart lightened, just a little.

Eli pulled up. Before he could get out, Ethan had the rear door open. Mari slid in and Gabriel followed. Ethan took a deep breath, sent a brief prayer winging up toward the stars, and folded himself into the car.

Chapter Nineteen

The ride uptown was fast, and quiet.

At the duplex building, they all got out. Greeted the night doorman. Rode the elevator to the top. Unlocked the duplex’s front door and entered.

Mari immediately headed for the front salon, a room used only for in-house bank or Colony events. Done entirely in gold and black, it was an elegant but terribly formal room. For some reason, she wanted the formality. She lingered on the threshold a moment, then sat on one of the eighteenth-century sofas. Perched, really, on the edge.