Chapter Nine
“Hey Carmen, I’ll be back in the office doing some paperwork. Think you can hold it down out here?”
“Sure, Gabs. I’ve got it!” she beams proudly.
It’s been two months since I’ve started my new job as manager at Cashmere. Two months of rooming with Morgan in our plush new apartment at Paralia. And two months since Tammy, Jared’s mom, was petrified by an evil, sadistic Warlock who lusts for my blood.
Luckily, running a high end boutique is a lot more time consuming and distracting than I initially thought, but I enjoy the challenge. Anything to stifle the immense guilt I feel for what happened to Tammy. And to get my mind off of Dorian, who has thrust himself into hunting the vicious predator, and as a result, has been keeping a little distance between us. I can’t stand it, but I know it’s for my own good. Being so close, breathing me, is dangerous for the both of us. Not to mention the insatiable sexual need we have for each other. It’s nearly impossible to think of anything else, or resist drinking in too much.
Though we talk daily, our conjugal visits have been limited to only a few times a week. I can’t help but feel somewhat disjointed from him. I know he loves me but my body craves him just as much as my heart does. Maybe even more.
I open my email and skim through the countless messages from designers, vendors and other business-related matters. Surprisingly, I’ve been doing well with staying on top of it all, especially since I hired Carmen, Miguel’s style savvy sister, as my personal assistant and right hand. She’s been a huge asset and without her, I think I would have been as lost as a whore in church with all the fashion terminology.
My face instantly brightens when I come across an email from Dorian. I open it with haste, wondering if it’s one of the more risqué notes we’ve been exchanging during our days apart. They’ve been hot enough to torture me into the late hours of the night yet the promise of reenacting each scenario upon our next encounter has been more than worth it.
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SUBJECT: Tonight
Gabriella,
My love, an urgent matter has arisen and I won’t be able to see you tonight. I will call you as soon as I can, but I cannot say when that will be.
Be especially careful and diligent until I see you. Understand what I am saying, Gabriella. I will contact you when I can.
I love you,
D
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Damn it! What the hell is going on? I know Dorian needs me to read between the lines. Something is going down and he wants me to be careful. I have to trust him in this. I read the cryptic email again just to be certain that I’m not missing something. Should I reply? Should I call him? No. He said he’d contact me. Before I can worry myself into an early grave, my cell phone chimes to life. I nearly break my neck trying to answer it, praying that it’s Dorian, yet discover that it’s Morgan. I try to swallow the feelings of disappointment before answering.
“Hey Morg, what’s up?” I say, trying to muster a few ounces of enthusiasm.
“Just working, girl. I wanted to hit you up real quick to see what’s up for tonight. I was thinking… we should have a little housewarming dinner at the apartment, just our close circle, as a way to maybe get Jared and James out for a little while. They’ve been so stressed; I think a Friday night of fun would be good for them.”
“Good idea!” It really is; the guys have both visibly lost weight from eating so much hospital food when they do eat at all. With their mom still in her fixed state, their entire lives have been turned upside down.
“What’d you have in mind?” I ask, genuinely excited to hang with my friends.
“Let’s make it a fiesta! Tacos, nachos, and, of course, Senor Tequila! I can make a mean margarita.”
“Cool, let’s do it.” I could use a good distraction and tequila has proven be a great coping mechanism in the past.
“So I’ll call Miguel, the guys, and I’m guessing Dorian and Aurora will be there?”
Just the mere mention of his name makes my heart sink, causing a twinge of grief to attack my chest. “Ummm, not Dorian. He has a business matter to tend to this evening.”
“Oh. Ok, I guess. Well, then I’ll see you later. I’ll stop by the store after I get off at 7 so I can get everything together. I’ll even have Miguel come over to help so he can make sure I don’t muck it up. What time will you get home tonight?”
“Eh, around 9:30. Save me a margarita?” Lord knows I need it and then some.
We say our goodbyes and I continue to sift through my inbox. I receive one from an email address I don’t recognize and the subject field is blank. Probably just junk mail but my curiosity gets the best of me.