He hurriedly took it from her grasp, furious with himself because he hadn’t thought. He hadn’t considered that the hot chocolate would hurt her injured mouth.
“I’ll get you some ice,” Gabe said. “Don’t move, baby.”
He stalked back into the living room, grabbed the ice bucket the room service attendant had left and then wrapped some of the ice in a towel. When he went back into the bedroom, Mia was still sitting just as he’d left her, her eyes vacant and distant.
Taking a chance, he sat down beside her and carefully pressed the ice pack to her mouth. She flinched and tried to move away, but he persisted, his voice gentle and low.
“Mia, darling, you need the ice so it won’t swell.”
She reached up, taking the towel from him and then put a foot of space between them. He didn’t blame her and he didn’t fight her. It was far less than he deserved. He rose from the bed and paced a short distance away before turning to look at her again.
Gabe stood back, anxious and worried. Insecure. God, he wasn’t an insecure person and yet with Mia, he was riddled with uncertainty. He was seized by the enormity of his fuck-up. This wasn’t an oops I’m sorry, forgive and forget situation. He’d placed her in harm’s way. He’d allowed another man to abuse her when she was in his protection.
He didn’t know if he could or would ever forgive himself so how could he expect her to do the same?
He was still hovering when she loosened her hold on the towel and allowed it to slide down her neck. Her gaze was weary and defeated. It made him wince to see the light extinguished from her beautiful gaze.
“I’m tired,” she said softly.
And she did look utterly drained. Fatigue shadowed her face and dulled her eyes.
He’d wanted to talk to her. To beg her forgiveness. To explain to her that it would never happen again. But he wouldn’t push her. Not until she was ready. And it was evident that she had no desire to talk about the matter tonight. Maybe she was still coming to terms with it herself. Or maybe she was just working up the nerve to tell him to fuck off.
He nodded, a knot solidly lodged in his throat. He went to turn the lights off, leaving only the lamp at his bedside on.
Then he got into bed, unsure of whether she’d want him to touch her or not. When he was beneath the covers, he reached back to turn off the lamp, dousing the room in darkness. Only the glow from the city lights illuminated the curtains.
He turned back over, automatically reaching for her. But she’d already turned on her side, facing away from him. She didn’t reject his touch, but neither did she embrace it. Still, he curled his arm around her middle, locking her solidly to his chest. He wanted her to know he was here. And God, more than that he needed the assurance that she was here.
After a moment, she let out a breathy sigh and he felt her relax into his hold. Her soft even breathing filled the room signaling her sleep. Or at least that she was on her way.
But he didn’t sleep. Didn’t close his eyes. Because every time he tried, all he saw was the look on Mia’s face when another man had forced his touch on her.
chapter thirty-one
The next morning when Mia awakened, Gabe wasn’t in bed with her. She felt the loss, but she was also relieved because she wasn’t sure she could face him yet. There were too many things she had to say and she wasn’t entirely certain how she was going to say them. Maybe that made her a coward. But she knew that what she had to say could very well mean the end of her relationship with Gabe.
She was still lying under the covers, hugged up to Gabe’s pillow, deciding whether to move or not when Gabe appeared in the doorway, a breakfast tray in his hands.
“Are you hungry?” he asked in a quiet, serious tone. “I ordered breakfast.”
She was surprised by how nervous he seemed. There was worry in his eyes and genuine concern for her. And regret shone, darkening his gaze every time he looked at her. Her heart twisted and she closed her eyes to block out images from the night before.
“Mia?”
She opened her eyes to find him standing by the bed still holding the tray. She pushed herself upward, propping pillows behind her back so she could sit up to eat.
“Thank you,” she murmured when he placed the tray across her legs.
He eased down on the bed beside her and thumbed over her bruised lip. She winced when he hit a particularly tender spot, and his gaze was immediately apologetic.
“Will you be able to eat?” he asked in a low voice.
She nodded and then looked down and picked up her fork, no longer able to hold his gaze.
“I’ve cancelled all our business engagements.”
Her gaze shot upward, a frown gathering her brows. Before she could respond, he continued, as if she hadn’t reacted at all.