My Billionaire Fling by Maci Dillon
SOPHIA
After an emotionally draining day and a few drinks, I fall into bed earlier than usual. Gabe is quiet and appears to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders but refuses to talk about it. I decide to let it go, knowing he’ll tell me more about the Danny situation tomorrow, we make love until I’m spent and struggling to keep my eyes open.
When Gabe’s phone sounds in the middle of the night, waking me from my slumber, two things happen. First, my skin crawls, my senses on high alert that something is wrong, and two, my stomach threatens a repeat of yesterday morning as I roll onto my side.
An hour passes, and Gabe doesn’t return to bed. My tummy has settled provided I don’t move, though sleep evades me wondering if the phone call has anything to do with Danny Thorne. Knowing he was in the same establishment irked me, but Gabe convinced me he had everything under control.
For now.
But what the hell kind of business does Gabe have to deal with in the middle of the night? It’s then I remember he has business dealings worldwide—the majority located in the United States—and time zones make his working hours difficult.
Maybe he’s considering his move here to be more complicated than he anticipated. What if he decides my suggestion to stage a public breakup and call the wedding off is the best way for us to move forward after all?
Could I handle him leaving me? The thought causes tears to spring to my eyes.
Despite all the anti-engagement talk and fighting him at every turn about being in a relationship, I love him. He might not know it, but my heart belongs to him, and if he leaves me now, I’m scared I’ll lose myself.
A short time later, sleep threatens to pull me under. Gabe tiptoes to our room, and I pretend to be asleep. I feel him above me, watching me in the darkness, and slowly he pulls the covers up to my chin and kisses my hair. “I love you, Sophia Evans,” he whispers. “I only hope you can love me for me.”
Quietly, he leaves the room. He’s not coming back to bed. And he believes I don’t love him.
My heart aches for him, and what may come if I don’t tell him exactly how I feel.
But the heavy beating in my chest finally lulls me to sleep.
And I dream of him, of our wedding, and suddenly, the dreams end and another begins. When I wake, Gabe is gone.
He left me in the middle of the night.
Gasping for air, I lurch from the mattress, my hair matted together around my face. My vision is unfocused, and I scan the room for Gabe. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”
Sucking in a deep breath, my body begins to relax as he wraps his arms around me and lowers me back to his chest.
“You’re still here,” I cry.
Literally.
Tears spill from my eyes in an emotional frenzy onto his naked chest.
“Of course, I’m not going anywhere. Did you have a bad dream?”
A few moments of silence pass while I gather my thoughts. I prop myself up on my elbow, ready to ask him about the phone call and tell him about my dream.
And most importantly, confess how I truly feel about him.
But my stomach lurches in my throat as my head spins, and I can’t scramble from the bed fast enough.
Gah!What the fuck is wrong with me?
Gabe follows not far behind and lovingly holds my hair back while I’m head down in the toilet for a second day in a row. Since when do relationships have you vomiting on daily? This isn’t my idea of a romantic emotional connection.
When I’m convinced I have nothing left in me, I push back on my heels, and Gabe pulls me upright. He prepares the shower while I brush my teeth. When we both step beneath the warm water, Gabe whispers with concern, “Two days in a row, Sophia. This is definitely not food-related.”
“Yesterday was an emotional day, and given how I woke up today, I’d say emotions are to blame.”
Leaning against Gabe’s chest, I let the water pour over the front of my body. “You want to tell me what this morning’s panic attack was all about?”
Panic attack.
I’ve never been prone to stress in my life. I take the shit life dishes out as a chance to grow, challenging myself with every shitty hand I’ve been dealt. To be better. More.
“It wasn’t a panic attack,” I say, turning to face him.
“Whatever it was, tell me what had you so worked up. You were sobbing in your sleep, then suddenly you sat up, gasping for air.”
He begins to lather soap over my body, caressing me softly as I explain my dream to him. “I’m not going to leave you, sweetheart.”
“You’ve not been yourself, and you didn’t come back to bed after your phone call.”
“Turn around.”
Gabe finishes washing my back. “Do you want to discuss your phone call?”
“No, I’m more worried about you.”
Shaking my head against him, I remain silent, confused as to why I feel so knackered every day.
“I want you to stay home today. You can arrange with Kelli for me to go into the office and collect anything you need, and you can work from bed.”
“Gabe…”
“Please, don’t fight me on this.”
Instead of arguing or pleading my case, I turn to him and lock my arms around his neck. “Gabe,” I start, pulling back to look in his eyes, “I love you.”
A smile lights up his eyes in a way I wish I’d told him long ago. “I’m sorry I fought you so long. I was scared.”
“And now?”
“Now, I’m scared to lose you.”
