Managed: A VIP Novel Part 44

"Someone make it stop," I mutter, putting the pillow back over my face.

"Look, man," Whip says somewhere around the vicinity of my head. "We're just trying to give you some advice."

"f.u.c.k all..." I tilt the pillow to the side to glare at him. "Sophie has been well satisfied. Repeatedly."

h.e.l.l, now I'm thinking of that look she has when she comes, the way her little nose wrinkles and her eyes squeeze tight as she arches her neck and moans... I put the pillow on my lap and snarl.

"Are you sure?" Rye waggles his brow. "I mean she's obviously not happy about something-"

"She's upset because I tore into her like a jealous, untrusting a.s.shole, you git. Not because I couldn't get her off. f.u.c.king h.e.l.l."

"Ah."

Yes, ah. As if that does me any good.

Rye turns on the TV and settles down in a chair. "Oh, Supernatural is on."

"No," I cut in, pained. "Not that one. Sophie has a thing for Dean. I can't watch it without hearing her sigh and coo." G.o.d, I miss her.

Rye quickly changes the channel to a car show.

Unfortunately, all I can think about is Sophie l.u.s.ting over my Ferrari. s.h.i.+t. The woman is threaded through every fiber of my existence. I'm unraveling.

"I love her." The words come out stilted, foreign on my tongue. But they are the truest part of me.

"Of course you do," Jax says with the patience of a father talking to an irritable toddler.

Killian snorts. "We've all known since you threatened to kill Jax over her."

"I don't recall such threats." I only thought them. I was so blind back then, trying to convince myself Sophie was a pa.s.sing fancy when I'd been falling for her from the moment she opened her mouth. My clever, chatty girl. She's turned me on my head, made me a better man, made me live for the moment.

I glance around. The guys are giving me my privacy by watching the TV. But they are here. For me. They'll never leave me behind. My mates. My family.

"I love you too," I blurt out.

And instantly regret it. My face burns as they all turn my way with varying degrees of shock in their expressions.

Rye gurgles on a laugh.

"f.u.c.k," I mutter. "That's not... You know what I mean. You're my mates."

"'In Whoville they say that the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day,'" Killian drawls.

They all laugh.

"Sod off," I growl, fighting a smile. But I won't retreat anymore. Sophie was right; it hurts both me and them when I do that. I look each of them in the eye. "I mean it."

Whip tosses himself on me, which b.l.o.o.d.y hurts, and musses my hair. "We love you too, Scottie boy."

I shove him to the floor. "Animals, the lot of you." But I feel better. Except I don't. Not at all. "I am f.u.c.ked, aren't I?"

"Pretty much," Killian says with a nod.

"I'm not falling in love," Jax declares. "I have enough f.u.c.ked emotions to work through."

"Famous last words, dude," Whips says from the floor.

"So, did you apologize to Sophie?" Jax asks.

"Of course. But I c.o.c.ked it up, and she asked for s.p.a.ce."

"You didn't give her s.p.a.ce, did you?" Killian sounds horrified.

It gives me pause, and I peer up at him. "Wasn't I supposed to?"

"No, you don't give them s.p.a.ce," he wails. "That's only some s.h.i.+t they say to see if you'll fight for them."

Outrage punches through me. "Why the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l would they do that to us?"

"To see if we're paying attention?" Jax offers.

"To torture us?" Rye counters.

"It's simply biology," Whip says as if he's suddenly an expert. "Men are wired to love the hunt, and women are wired to love being hunted."

"That sounds like something women would call s.e.xist," I counter.

"They might protest," Whip agrees. "But deep down they know it's true."

"Women should come with instructions." Rye takes a sip of his beer and stares down at the bottle. "Or a warning label."

Killian laughs. "They do, man. You just have to learn how to read them. Problem is, most of us don't learn how until a woman has knocked us on our a.s.ses. Trial by fire, my friends. And you will burn."

"Killian James, prophet of doom," I say, knowing he's right. And hating it.

"Look," he kicks my foot. "You f.u.c.ked up. Now you gotta go make a gesture that shows her she's the most important person in your life."

"Should I go sing a song that calls her an easy lay?" I ask. Which is low, because that was Killian's mistake with Libby.

The guys snicker, and Killian kicks me again. "I married the girl, jacka.s.s, so I won."

Marriage isn't something I've ever wanted, or even considered. But I could marry Sophie. I picture it: my ring on her finger, all my a.s.sets guaranteed to go to her. She'd be financially safe for life. She'd be mine for life. And instead of the future being a blank wall I never examine, it would be suns.h.i.+ne and light. It would be her happy laughter and soft warmth. Perfection.

Yearning adds to the ache in my heart.

I haul myself up, wincing at the pain in my chest and stomach. "Everyone out. I have gestures to plan."

"Thatta boy, Scottie." Rye slaps my shoulder. "Just, whatever you do, don't make it a Star Trek theme."

Because I know it will please them, I flip the finger as I head toward the shower.

My progress stops when Brenna bursts into the room.

"You complete a.s.shole," she says by way of greeting.

"I see you've been talking to Sophie." I refrain from demanding where she is and how she's doing. But only just.

Brenna sneers. "Did you really tell Jules to send Sophie home? Like she's some f.u.c.king lackey you can fob off when things get difficult?"

My blood runs cold. "What?"

"Sophie heard you telling Jules to put her on a plane. Not first cla.s.s this time? Ring a f.u.c.king bell?"

"Oh, s.h.i.+t," Rye says somewhere behind me.

I ignore him, horror p.r.i.c.kling my skin and making my ears ring. Sophie thinks I want her gone? No wonder she appeared so hurt, las.h.i.+ng out at me like the walking wounded. And I gave her s.p.a.ce with that to brood on all night.

"I was talking about Jennifer, the sodding roadie who let that f.u.c.kwit Martin into Jax's room! Sophie is my life, for f.u.c.k's sake."

"Oh," Brenna says, looking pleased. "Well, that's good." But then her happy face falls. "Actually, it's bad."

"Why?" It's all I can do not to grab Brenna and shake her.

Brenna's nose wrinkles. "She, ah, left a note saying she was going 'on walkabout'."

"What the f.u.c.k is a walkabout?" I roar.

"Crocodile Dundee," Killian calls out behind me. "You know, when he went roaming around the outback?"

Sweet h.e.l.l, my girl is a nut. An adorable little nut.

"Where is she walking about?" I grit out.

Brenna grimaces. "Australia. Her flight leaves at five."

My girl is an adorable, misguided, evil nut who I'm going spank as soon as I get my hands on her. I need to get to her. Oh, G.o.d help me, I need to make that gesture Killian was going on about.

I might truly be ill when it's all said and done. But I can do this. For her, I'll do anything.

I let out a breath and shove my hands into my hair to hold my pounding head.

"All right," I say. "All right, I need help, and I need it now."

And my mates, G.o.d love them all, rise to the occasion.

"What do you need, Scottie?"

"I need my lawyer, and I need to get on that plane." I'll make the rest up as I go along.

Sophie

They say you never really know what you have until you lose it. I'm not sure how accurate that is. I know what I have with Gabriel is something special, a connection few people are lucky enough to find. And yet here I sit on a plane that's getting ready to take me away from him.

Of all the rash, impulsive things I've done in my life, this one really takes the cake.

I'm so angry with myself that my nails are digging into the meat of my palms. I should have stayed and apologized for not explaining things straightaway, for saying hurtful words in an attempt to protect myself. Gabriel deserves that. He deserves the world. A few a.s.shole comments aside, he is the best man I have ever known. And I want to continue to know him, to care for him.

A pa.s.senger headed down the aisle b.u.mps my shoulder with her b.u.t.t and mutters a quick apology as she angles her way down the narrow pa.s.sage. First cla.s.s, this is not.

With my salary, I could have paid for a premium-fare ticket. But I couldn't fly that way. Not without him by my side. Luxury has lost its l.u.s.ter without Gabriel to share the experience.

"s.h.i.+t." I grab my purse and yank it from beneath the seat in front of me.

The man sitting next to me sends a curious glance my way.

"I have to go," I tell him, as if he needs to know.

Dude gives me a salute as I scramble from my seat.

It isn't easy, navigating up the aisle while everyone else is boarding. I'm a salmon fighting my way upstream. Frustration p.r.i.c.kles at my lids. I need off this plane. I need Gabriel.

A flight attendant sees the struggle and meets me at the first emergency exit. "Is there a problem, miss?"

"No problem." I haul my purse strap higher up my shoulder. "I just need to get off."

She slowly looks me over.

Great, I'm probably broadcasting crazy. Not something you ever want to do on an airplane.