Page 104 of Dark Billionaire Stalker
"It's just stress," I say. "Adjusting to everything. I'm fine."
He doesn't believe me. I can see it in his eyes—the doubt, the suspicion, the questions he's not asking. But he doesn't push, and I don't offer.
We're both liars now. Both keepers of secrets.
"I have to go out the day after tomorrow," I say, testing the waters. "I need supplies for the Harrison arrangements. The ones I bought at the market weren't quite right."
The lie comes easily—too easily. When did I become someone who lies without flinching?
"James can drive you."
"I know."
His eyes search my face for a long moment. I hold his gaze, willing myself to look innocent, to look normal, to look like a woman who isn't planning to meet his enemy behind his back.
Whatever he's looking for, he doesn't find it. Or maybe he does, and he chooses not to confront it.
"Be careful," he says finally. "Call me if you need anything."
"I will."
Another lie. They're stacking up now, building a wall between us brick by brick.
He leaves me alone in the library, and I sit with my secrets pressing against my chest—the pregnancy, the meeting, the growing certainty that my life is about to change in ways I can't control.
The day after tomorrow. Two o'clock. The Willow café.
I'll finally learn the truth about my father.
I just hope I'm strong enough to survive it.
***
That night, Gabriel reaches for me in the darkness.
His hands are urgent, demanding, pulling me against him with a desperation that feels almost like fear. He doesn't speak—just kisses me hard, his mouth claiming mine, his body pressing me into the mattress.
I should stop him. I should tell him about the baby growing inside me, about the changes happening to my body that might make this dangerous.
But I don't. I let him take what he needs, let myself get lost in the sensation, let the pleasure drown out the guilt churning in my stomach.
There's an edge to him tonight that I haven't felt before. Something raw and almost frantic, as if he's trying to communicate something through his body that he can't say with words. His hands grip me too tightly, his kisses leave bruises, his breath comes in ragged gasps that sound almost like sobs.
Afterward, he holds me tight against his chest, his breath hot against my hair. His heart pounds beneath my palm, gradually slowing from its frantic race.
"Whatever happens," he murmurs, his voice rough and strange, "remember that I never meant to hurt you."
The words send a chill down my spine. "Gabriel? What—"
"Shh." He presses a kiss to my temple. "Go to sleep. We'll talk soon. I promise."
But we don't talk. We lie in the darkness, wrapped around each other, both of us keeping secrets that could destroy everything we've built.
I don't sleep for a long time. My mind races through possibilities, trying to decode his words, trying to understand what truth he's been holding back.I never meant to hurt you.What has he done—or what is he about to do—that would require such a preemptive apology?
Does he know about Zach? Has he discovered my secret meetings, my hidden cards, my plans to seek truth from his enemy?
Or is it something else entirely? Something connected to those meetings in the city, to the shadows that have lived in his eyes ever since?
