(Gabriel)I stood near my designated table, listening to the conversations between a few business associates. The gala was in full swing with the buzz of laughter and music filling the grand hall.“Your latest campaign was impressive, Montclair,” one of the men, a senior executive from Weston & Co., remarked. “I imagine it’s only a matter of time before Montclair Enterprises makes another move to compete.”“They can try,” I replied smoothly, taking a sip of my whiskey. “But let’s just say I’ve planned ahead.”The men chuckled, clearly amused. Another one leaned in. “Montclair Advertising is always one step ahead. You have a sharp team.”I nodded once, not bothering to correct him. I didn’t rely on a team, I relied on myself.Just then, a woman slid up beside me. Madison Clarke, if I remembered correctly. She was dressed in a matte black gown, her lips curved in a knowing smile. “Gabriel,” she drawled, brushing her fingers along my sleeve. “I was just telling your business friends her
(Gloria)“Aaron, I’m so sorry,” I say, offering him a sweet smile. “I would have loved to continue our conversation, but I wouldn’t want to leave my date waiting.”Gabriel’s grip tightens on my wrist, and I swear I feel his fingers twitch at the word date. Well he used it first.Aaron, ever the gentleman, just chuckles. “Of course. Maybe later?”I glance up at Gabriel through my lashes before smirking at Aaron. “We’ll see.”Gabriel doesn’t give me the chance to say anything else. The second I slip my hand into his, he pulls me into him, spinning me into the slow rhythm of the music.The moment is seamless, like he had been waiting, planning, for this exact moment. His hand settles low on my back, his grip firm and controlling like he’s making a silent statement.I almost laugh. He looks like a kid demanding his candy back from a class bully.“You looked like you were having fun,” he murmurs, his voice smooth but taut.I tilt my chin up, meeting his gaze with innocent curiosity. “I was
(Gloria)She stands tall and as poised as ever, dressed in an elegant dark green gown that complements her features. Unlike Madison’s barely veiled contempt, Eleanor’s expression is smooth and not unkind.Gabriel doesn’t even look surprised. He straightens his posture, his tone polite. “Mother.”Eleanor’s lips curve into a small smile. “Gabriel, darling.” She says as her eyes sweep over him with quiet approval before settling on me.I stand my ground, willing myself to keep my expression neutral.Eleanor studies me briefly, then she looks back at Gabriel, tilting her head slightly. “You clean up well,” she says, amusement seeping through her tone. “That suit does wonders for your posture.”Gabriel huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “And you look lovely, as always.”She accepts the compliment with a graceful nod before turning her attention fully to me. Her gaze is measured and observant.“Gloria,” she says smoothly, a trace of warmth in her voice. “That dress is stunning on you.”
(Gabriel)I grip the steering wheel tighter, keeping my eyes on the road, but it’s useless. My gaze keeps drifting to the passenger seat.Gloria’s legs are crossed, her dress riding up just enough to test my patience. She’s leaned back, one arm resting on the door, her head tilted slightly as she stares out the window. The city lights flicker across her face, making her look almost unreal.She catches me looking, and a slow smile spreads across her lips.“What?” she asks, her voice smooth, teasing.I turn my eyes back to the road. “You had too much to drink.”She hums, tapping her fingers against her knee. “I don’t feel drunk.”“You were playing footsie under the table with people sitting there. You’re drunk.”She laughs, low and sultry. “You say that like you didn’t enjoy it.”She’s pushing me, testing me, like she always does.“I was trying to have a conversation,” I say, keeping my voice even.“And I was trying to keep things interesting,” she counters, stretching in her seat like
(Gloria)The alarm doesn’t go off. Or maybe it does and I just don’t hear it, because the next thing I know, I’m bolting upright with rays of sunlight stabbing through the windowblinds and my heart slamming in my chest.Shit.I scramble off the couch with my body protesting every movement. My neck is stiff, my back feels like I spent the night in a damn wrestling match, and my head is still throbbing from yesterday. No time to shower or change clothes, so I grab my bag, and sprint out the door.The sun is merciless as I stand outside, shifting from foot to foot and cursing every damn cab in this city.Where are they? It’s like the entire population decided to call for a ride at the exact same time. My phone screen mocks me, no rides available.I groan, my head is still pounding, my body aching from sleeping on the couch, and every second that passes feels like a step closer to unemployment.Finally, a cab slows down in front of me and I literally throw myself at it, yanking the door o
(Gloria)“Goodnight, Mr. Montclair,” I said, pausing by his office door, waiting, hoping, for a hint of warmth, some sign that last night hadn’t just disappeared into thin air.Gabriel didn’t even glance up from his laptop. “Goodnight, Gloria.”Cold and dismissive. Like I was just any other employee. I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to slam the door on my way out.Fine. If he wanted to pretend last night didn’t happen, then so be it.I grabbed my bag and headed for the elevators, my heels clicking against the floor with more force than necessary. Kate shot me a smug little smile from her desk, clearly enjoying the show. By the time I stepped outside, the sun was dipping low, the city buzzing with the usual rush hour chaos. I exhaled slowly, shaking off the irritation in my chest.Then my phone lit up.Elena: Drinks tonight for Jordan’s promotion. It’s in a bar near your place. No excuses.I sighed, already thinking up an excuse.Then another text came.Elena: Before you say no, y
I was at work so early, I half expected to find the cleaning staff still vacuuming the carpets. Maybe if I clocked in before the sun did, Gabriel would stop looking at me like I was an unreliable idiot. Not that I cared what he thought. Nope. Not at all.I dropped my bag on my desk, sighing as I leaned back in my chair. My brain still hadn’t shut up about last night. Kate and Damon. That name alone made my stomach twist. It wasn’t just some casual fling, there was something bigger happening, something shady.And I could’ve sworn Damon had glanced in my direction, like he felt someone was watching. My heart had practically leapt out of my chest. If Elena and Jordan hadn’t kept chatting, giving me the perfect cover, I might not have been so lucky.I exhaled. I needed to be smart. Gabriel had already shut me down once. If I went to him with nothing but “Your sneaky assistant is up to something,” he’d probably roll his eyes and go back to being icecold. I needed solid proof before I broug
(Gloria)I tap my fingers on my desk, my eyes shifting to my phone for the hundredth time.It’s not like I was expecting Gabriel to send me a paragraph long text confessing that he misses me, okay, not even a word about missing me. But a simple acknowledgment wouldn’t have hurt. Even a curt “Not kidnapped” would have done the job.Instead? Radio silence.I lock my phone with an annoyed click of my tongue and shove it away, deciding I officially do not care. If Mr. CEO wants to ignore my text, fine. He’s probably lying in some ridiculous king sized bed, staring at his stupid ceiling, thinking stupid CEO thoughts. Meanwhile, I have actual work to do.So that’s exactly what I do. I pour myself into spreadsheets, accounts, and emails, anything to distract me from the completely unimportant fact that Gabriel Montclair has apparently forgotten I exist.And then, just when I’ve finally stopped thinking about it…Ding.My phone vibrates against the desk, and for some reason, my heart leaps be
(Gloria)“Breathe,” Elena whispered, tucking a stray curl behind my ear.I tried but the air caught in my throat, thick and dry. My lungs were working, but it didn’t feel like breathing, it felt like drowning.The dress fit like a custom made trap.Silk, delicate and stupidly expensive, clunging to every inch of me like it had a personal grudge. White, backless, tight around the ribs, I looked like the kind of dreamy bride people wrote poems about. But underneath? I felt like a prisoner.We stood just behind a pillar out of sight, but I could already hear the rustle of guests, the low hum of whispers, and the click-click-click of paparazzi cameras fighting for a shot. “You ready?” Elena asked, her fingers brushing mine.I nodded, but the truth was, I wanted to run, like, just bolt. But my heels stayed rooted to the grass, like even they knew escape was pointless.“You look like you’re about to jump the hedge,” she said. “If you do, I’m not wearing flats under this dress for nothing. I
(Gloria)Elena sinks into the chair beside me, picking up the halfempty wine bottle on the table. “So… everything’s unraveling fast, huh?”I let the rim of the glass rest on my lips before I answer. “Apocalyptic.”She winces. “Sorry.”I shrug stiffly. “Don’t be. Eleanor Montclair doesn’t back down. I’ll give her that.”There’s a beat of silence, then Elena says quietly, “You admire her?”I scoff. “No. Maybe. Hell, I don’t even know. She’s scary but effective. She sent me this ridiculous form to fill out, and when I hesitated, she hit me with so much legal jargon, I thought I’d be arrested for lying about my blood type.”Elena lets out a low whistle. “She really did her daughter-in-law homework.”“Thoroughly,” I mutter, setting the glass down harder than I mean to. “Shame her son isn’t going along without a fight”Elena shifts. “He was angry…”“He was humiliated,” I cut in. “And now he thinks marrying me is the worst decision of his life.”Elena clears her throat. “Jordan hasn’t called
(Gabriel)The moment I step out of the car back home, flashes go off like fireworks from the cameras shoved into my face, with reporters barking questions I have zero interest in answering.“Mr. Montclair, is it true you fired your secretary?”“Was the relationship ever real?”“Did she seduce you for the money?”I keep walking with my sunglasses on. Let them feast on the scraps because I’m here for the queen of manipulation herself.I push open the grand double doors and make my way inside without a word to the housekeepers who bow and scurry out of my way. Up the marble stairs, past the lifeless portraits of smiling men I never cared to resemble, and straight to her favorite room, the tea room.The door’s already open of course. She probably wants this to feel casual and warm. My mother sits by the window elegantly like she’s been waiting for me to arrive. She smiles like I’m her darling boy coming home from war.“Gabriel,” she says softly, patting the velvet cushion beside her. “Co
(Gabriel) The saltwater clings to my skin as I step out of the ocean, feeling the waves pull away from me with each step forward and i take a deep breath to enjoy the tropical air. Hawaii’s warm breeze is supposed to wash away the anger, frustration, and chaos of my life, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t do a damn thing to numb the knot in my stomach or the rage simmering just beneath the surface of my skin.I make my way to the beach dragging my board behind me, the sound of the ocean drowned out by the rush in my ears. The soft sand shifts under my feet as I approach the edge of the beach, and that’s when I see them.Two women. Tall, tanned, and wearing almost nothing. They’re eyeing me up like I’m their next meal. I don’t blame them, no doubt the waves have done wonders for my physique.The blonde is the first to speak. “Nice ride out there,” she says with flirtation in her voice.I glance over to them disinterestedly. I’m not in the mood for small talk. But then I notice the brunette.
(Gloria)My phone rings and I almost drop it. Eleanor Montclair.Her name stares back at me like it’s been branded on my screen. I freeze, every one of my muscles tightening. Suddenly, the idea of crying over a documentary feels like a warm up for the real horror show to come .Because if there’s one person who’s probably angrier than Gabriel right now, it’s his mother.I imagine her standing in a designer robe, swirling a glass of wine like a villain from a movie, already drafting the legal papers to sue me into poverty. I picture myself back on Elena’s couch begging for space, struggling to afford groceries, and eating cheap ramen in bulk while I try to pay back…The phone buzzes again in my palm demanding an answer.Shit. Okay.I swipe. “Hello?”No greeting and no hesitation.“I’ll pay it back,” I blurt. “Please. Just give me a payment plan or something. I… I know the contract’s over, but I swear I’ll find a way. You don’t have to take me to court or ruin my life or… ”“Gloria,” El
(Gloria)I stare at the door hoping it might swing back open like Gabriel forgot something, maybe his sanity, maybe his heart. Maybe the part of him that didn’t just threaten me like a mafia boss in a three piece suit.But no. It stays shut.And I’m just standing there, jaw slack and completely, spectacularly, ruined.“Welp,” I whisper, blinking. “I think that went well.”A tiny, pitiful laugh bubbles out of me but it dies as fast as it came.I take a step forward, my knees buckle. Okay. That’s fine. That’s totally okay. I’ve been through worse.…Haven’t I?Then I collapse onto the floor in a heap, one arm flopped over my stomach like I’ve just been fatally wounded in battle. Maybe I have. The battle of the heart. The war of love. The massacre of dignity.And then it happens, the sobs.Real ones, loud and messy. Not those pretty movie tears. Nope. This is the kind of crying that makes your face puff up like a marshmallow and your nose run like a broken faucet.I bury my face in my han
(Gabriel)“Well?” I ask, the word coming out as more of a command than a question. My eyes rake over her coldly but inside, a storm is raging. She looks like a mess, unkept, terrified, and I can barely keep it together.I’m fighting every impulse not to grab her and shake the answers out of her, demanding she tell me what the hell is going on. Instead, I stand there stiffly, my fists clenched at my sides trying to control the rage that’s boiling in my veins.Kate had walked into my office earlier, slamming that tablet down in front of me with an expression that said ‘you need to see this’. The documentary was everywhere, the headline hitting me like a slap across the face: Ex-Drug Dealer’s Secret Contract to Marry Montclair CEO. The words felt like they burned into my skin.Gloria, an ex-drug dealer working with her trash of an ex, Ethan. And then the real kicker, a contract from my mother, Eleanor Montclair, to marry me for money. All over the media. I’m still trying to wrap my head
(Gloria) I wake up with a jolt with my phone vibrating against my chest and pressing into me like it’s trying to make sure I’m awake. Groaning, I push it off and onto the couch, the screen lighting up and blinking at me like a warning sign. I rub my eyes, feeling the ache in my head from too much sleep, and I shuffle to the kitchen, craving some water to shake off the grogginess. The cool glass of water hits my lips but it doesn’t stop the gnawing feeling in my gut. I can hear my phone, no, I can feel it vibrating from the other room. Then the beeps start. A flood of notifications, calls. I freeze, water halfway down my throat, and a cold shiver races down my spine. I know what’s happening. I know. It’s over. They’ve done it. Just like they said they would. I’ve been exposed. My heart races as I stare at the water in my hand, as if it could somehow give me the answers I need, some way out. But there isn’t one. It’s too late now. I ignore the phone, my fingers twitching as the n
(Gloria)The next day I’m at home. I’d gone home early the previous day after telling Gabriel I’d take the day off, much to his delight. I guess he was happy to get me to relax a bit.Now, I’m on the couch, wrapped in my blanket mindlessly eating Chinese takeout. The TV’s on but I’m not really watching anything. I’m just sort of… there. My thoughts are too tangled, too all over the place, and I can’t seem to shake off this feeling of being stuck.I’m lost in the emptiness of the moment when the doorbell rings, interrupting the silence. I almost ignore it, who the hell is visiting me? I’m not expecting anyone. But the damn thing rings again, louder this time. So, I roll my eyes and reluctantly pull myself up off the couch.When I open the door, I’m hit with the surprise of a delivery guy standing there holding a big hamper. There’s food, fruit, and… flowers? My first thought is, What the hell?He hands me a card after I sign for it. I glance at it, almost as if I don’t want to know who