Page 41 of Fragile

“Chill your beans. I must say, you do sound like a jealous boyfriend.”

“As I said, it isn’t about that. I’m responsible for her,” I knew my words were pathetic, Max knew me like a brother. The cat was officially out of the bag.

“So, if you’re not together and she isn’t your girlfriend and truly is just an independent person living in your apartment; one might ask why you feel so strongly about this,” Max said firmly, the sincerity and sense in his words sending me over the edge.

“And one might ask you to mind your own fucking business,” I growled, now thoroughly pissed off.

Max also lost it, his voice suddenly so much louder. “So, I’m to mind my own business, when you’re the one who asked me to watch out for her? Why don’t you get off your arse and come down here yourself?”

I was so angry now; it was almost painful. I took a deep breath before my cunt meter went from extreme to unbearable. “Why have a dog and bark yourself?” I snarled, relishing how much my words would piss him off. No one treated Max Hunter like a lackey.

And just like that, the wanker hung up on me.

Leonie

I could hardly keep my eyes open as I got back to the apartment at around two-thirty in the morning. It would have been the latest shift I had done since working there. The journey home was fine. Trevor was a true friend and always walked me to the taxi rank, I rarely caught the Tube anyway.

After paying the fare, I pulled my coat further around my body and made my way into the building.

I was so tired that I almost didn’t remember the code to the penthouse. Had I not, I would have been forced to walk up several flights of stairs and my feet were already killing me.

As the doors slid slowly open, I exited the lift and walked into the apartment. The lights were still on which was odd, considering the lateness of the hour. Maybe Asher had left them on for me?

As the lift doors closed, I saw Gabriel leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms folded over his chest, looking anything but pleased. Why on earth was he still up at this hour?

He was wearing jogging bottoms and a tank top, the muscles of his arms bulging; his stance suggesting he was tense; like a predator about to pounce. As my eyes roamed over his face, he took the air from my lungs. He looked stunningly handsome and I felt a twinge of excitement at the thought that he may have waited up for me.

Offering him a shy smile, I walked further into the apartment and dropped my bag by the sofas.

“You’re still up?” I said, not managing to keep the surprise from my voice.

That usual seriousness about him was overlaid with something else and the muscle which ticked in his jaw betrayed his mood. His body was poised like a lethal weapon and I felt a twinge of uncertainty.

Shoving off the counter, Gabriel dropped his arms and prowled towards me, every move carried out with fierce precision. My smile dropped and was replaced by confusion and worry. There was a definite atmosphere and I knew I was about to get an earful. Why? I had no idea.

A pang of disappointment drummed through me.

“So, it would seem,” he replied in a frosty voice, coming to stand before me.

My nose wrinkled as I took in his tired features. “I assume you weren’t waiting for me?”

A dark look flashed across his face. “They you’d assume wrong. Why are you back so late?” Gabriel’s dark eyes suddenly contained a sizable helping of psycho.

A million thoughts flooded my head. Was it something to do with the apartment, had I left the door open or too much girly shit in the bathroom again? Or had he been worried about me? I so hoped it was the latter.

“I was working, you know that.” The words blurted out of my mouth like I was guilty of something, which was ridiculous as I’d told him I was working earlier.

He shot me a faint smirk. “Which brings me to my next question. Where?

“Where?”

“Yes, where do you work and stop repeating my words, it’s fucking annoying.” His tone made me flinch. An urgent sense of anxiety bled into me, chaos racing through my chest.

“I work in a bar, I told you that as I left,” I pointed out.

“Which bar?” His questioning was like a line of attack, I could so see him in a courtroom.

“One on the other side of Soho,”

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