Australia: Wicked Mistresses(27)

Nina, however, didn’t flinch. She merely looked her boss in the eye and shrugged her shoulders back. Gabriel imagined her topaz eyes glistening, her thumping heart jammed in her throat.

Not on his shift.

Gabriel crashed through the door. He was ready to tell the maître-d’ to take a hike, but pulled back when he heard Nina’s level voice.

“I will not apologise,” she was saying. “I did nothing wrong. If anyone should say I’m sorry, that woman should say it to me. And she could throw in a dozen more apologies to the other staff she’s put through her wringer since she sat down an hour ago.”

The maître-d’ was clearly shocked. “You are not here to argue—”

“I’m not arguing. I’m simply stating that there’s a big difference between making sure the guests are happy and insisting that your staff smile while they lick their boots three times a day.”

A general positive murmur went up around the interested kitchen staff. The head chef nodded to his assistant. A waitress had stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide with disbelief and admiration.

The maître-d’ glowered in their general direction, then redirected his spite towards Nina. “You will go back out there and apologise to the Flounders, then you will attempt to take their order and do it correctly this time!”

“I took it correctly the first time, the second time and the third,” Nina insisted. “That woman is nothing but a contrary snob who thinks it’s her God-given right to demean people she considers beneath her.”

With a condescending air, the maître-d’ crossed his arms. “You foolish girl. You know nothing of how the other half live.”

Her chin kicked higher. “I know more than you’d ever believe.”

Gabriel remembered how a younger Nina had once treated him—as if he should lick her boots. She’d come a long way. All these years and finally he really thought she got it.

But it was time to bring this show to an end. The other staff were beyond agitated. He didn’t want a rebellion on his hands, but he couldn’t dismiss Nina—although he would have to talk soundly with her later. While the man she slept with applauded her guts, the businessman standing here needed to repair any damage.

He moved forward. Nina’s jaw dropped when she saw him.

“You’re having the rest of the day off,” he told the maître-d’, who reddened more.

“B-but the guests?” he jabbered.

Gabriel relieved him of the menus he held. “I’ll look after the guests.”

Indignant, the maître-d’ stood on his toes. “Forgive me, sir, but you have no experience in this field.”

“Guess I’d better learn.”

As the kitchen staff raised their brows and murmured more, Gabriel nodded towards the door. The maître-d’ huffed and strode out.

Nina was tugging at his sleeve. “Gabriel, I need to talk to you.”

“We’ll talk after this shift,” he said, dying to snatch a kiss. He loved her when she was determined. Loved it when she spoke her mind.

And rather than comply she headed for a door—a backroom where a store of food was kept. She hooked a finger for him to follow, and Gabriel’s pulse-rate ramped up.

Okay. If she was that insistent they be alone, he guessed he could spare a moment…or two.

He put the menus aside and followed her. The murmurs outside increased before he shut the door. Not needing an invitation now they were alone, he brought her snug against him, felt a surge of desire flare and build. Now he had her pressed close it was going to prove beyond difficult to let her go.

He brushed his lips over hers and, closing his eyes, groaned with unbridled pleasure. “You were sensational out there.”

“Gabriel—”

He pulled marginally back. “But I can’t have you dressing down superiors in front of the staff. It doesn’t look right.”

“Gabe, listen to me. I’ve found another job.”

His thoughts screeched to a stop. Dumbfounded, he examined her open gaze. “You what?”

“A lady I worked with at Shimmer told me about a new magazine starting up. I e-mailed my résumé a couple of days ago and this morning the editor e-mailed back. We talked on the phone and…” Her shoulders came down. “She wants me to start next week. I’ll be features editor and second in charge.”

He butted his shoulder against the wall as his mind clicked over.

Right. Okay. He should be happy for her. Should be smiling.

“That’s…great. Wonderful.” He exhaled, struck a hand through his hair. “Next week, huh?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

His mind and body gridlocked. “As soon as that?” He’d decided he was going to stay on for a while. He hadn’t decided how long exactly. He’d planned on telling Nina after her shift. He’d imagined she’d be happy.

“When she told me I had the job,” Nina went on, “can you believe I was actually torn? I had something to finish here—I wasn’t entirely sure what—so I said I’d call back if my answer was yes.” She shook her head as she sighed. “Now, after that scene—when I know I’d only done my job well…That’s it for me. I’m done. I don’t want to be subjected to this kind of pompous elitism ever again.”

Gabriel’s mind caught up with his emotions and delayed relief trickled through him. She might be leaving the island, but…“We can hook up again in Sydney.”

“That sounds wonderful, except…”

He frowned. “Except what?”

Searching his eyes, she eased out a long breath. “I was feeling so lost and alone…it was what I’d been dreaming of before you came along—lapping up luxury for just a day or two. This time with you has brought back so many memories. Safe memories from when I was young and my family were all together.” She rested her palm against his chest. “But that time’s over. That’s not me any more. I’ve changed. I don’t want to try and fit back into that world. The world of pretentious Mrs Flounders. I’d feel more of a fake than I did being a waitress.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. “You’ve made so much of yourself. You deserve all this. But that’s you, not me. Not any more.”

He held her hand against his chest and scoffed. She was making this bigger than it needed to be.

“Nina, we’re not doing anything drastic.” Like making things permanent. “We’re just seeing each other.” Sleeping together. “You can still have your life and carry on doing that.”

Her throat bobbed on a big swallow and her eyes began to fill. “No matter what life throws my way, I know now I’ll adapt. I’ll survive. I’ll grow. But that doesn’t mean I want to intentionally put myself in harm’s way. I care about you, Gabriel. I care so much it frightens me.” Her face softened. “I’ve never been in love before.”

His heart stopped beating. He swallowed involuntarily, then, totally taken aback, coughed out a laugh. “We’ve known each other a week.”

“This time.” Her eyes glistened. “If I agree to see you when we get back you’ll end up hurting me, and it’ll be my fault for not pulling back now while I still can.”

Suddenly the room felt smaller. Where it had been cosy when they’d first entered, now the space felt squashed. The scent of spices and sauces made him want to wheeze. Made him want to clear his throat.

He blindly found the doorknob at his back. “We’ll discuss this later.”

“Will that change anything?”

He’d be frank.

“If you’re talking about long-term, about marriage…no, it won’t. And you know enough about me not to ask why.” With marriage came expectations, came children. He’d rather not be a father at all than risk being a bad or an absent one. Boys needed their father—one hundred percent and every day.

She cupped his cheek with a caring hand. “You’re so committed to this project. You have so much riding on its success. You don’t need me getting in the way. You don’t need nagging when you’re too busy for personal.”

His hand tightened on her shoulder before it slid down her arm. He leant back against the door. He felt as if he’d been knocked out in the final round. He hated to admit it, but everything she said made sense. The scenario she’d just given had pretty much been the way most of his so-called relationships had turned out in the past. He’d thought Nina was different, but maybe her added allure was because she’d been so proud and so darn hard to keep.

He might not love her, but he did respect her, and he certainly didn’t want to hurt her.

He closed his eyes, saw the only logical answer and forced himself to accept it.

Exhaling, he opened his eyes and nodded. “You’re right. If you were my sister, I’d be telling you to run.”

She frowned. “This isn’t about Anthony.”

“No, this is about you being you and me being me.”

She was moving on and he wasn’t ready to make that move with her. He didn’t know that he ever would be.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


LATER that day, after Gabriel had walked a few miles down the beach, he strode back to the bungalow and immersed himself in figures. Piles of columns and statistics and any other numbers that might help to obliterate that God-awful scene in the café with Nina Petrelle.