Page 50 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

“He’s banned from toaster ovens as well.”

Gabe rolls his eyes. “Keep at it and there will be no sandwiches for either of you.”

Hank and I exchange a look, then speak at the same time.

“I’ll take turkey.”

“Extra mayo for me.”

Gabe exhales sharply, muttering something about ungrateful assholes before turning back to the counter. But I catch how his mouth twitches, like maybe—just maybe—he’s fighting a smile.

My phone buzzes again.

Dad.

“Ugh.” I decline the call and watch Gabe work, but my father is relentless. The screen barely goes dark before it lights up again, his name flashing insistently.

“You gonna answer that?” Hank asks, not looking up from where he leans against the counter, arms crossed.

I exhale sharply. “My dad probably wants to yell at me because I didn’t come home last night.”

A sharp pang slices through my chest.

He has every reason to be worried.

After meeting Gabe and Hank for coffee yesterday, I dismissed my security detail—technically, Hank did—and went home with two men. Now, I’ve spent the night tangled between them, my body thoroughly used, my mind still hazy with the kind of satisfaction that lingers under the skin.

Not exactly the kind of behavior my father raised me for.

The phone buzzes again. Annoyed, I reach to decline the call once more, but Hank’s voice cuts through the space, low and firm.

“Answer the phone, luv.”

I pause, frowning. “I’m not interested in talking to him.”

“Nevertheless, you’ll answer.”

Something shifts in the air—an unmistakable weight behind his words. His tone is different now, deeper, edged with something sharp, something unyielding.

I hesitate. “My dad can be?—”

“Not nearly as strict as me.” Hank straightens, uncrosses his arms, and closes the space between us with slow, measured steps. Heat radiates from him, power and authority rolling off him in waves. His gaze is unwavering, pinning me in place. “Your father deserves your respect, luv. Don’t ignore his calls.”

My pulse flutters, my breath catching.

“I don’t?—”

“Not a request,” he interrupts smoothly, tilting his head slightly.

The unspoken promise lingers beneath the words, thick and potent. A warning. A line drawn.

Heat pools low in my belly, a reaction as much to his dominance as to the unrelenting commandin his voice.

I swallow, fingers tightening around my phone. “And if I don’t?”

His lips curve, slow and deliberate. “Then we’ll have a different conversation. One you’ll enjoy far less than an uncomfortable conversation with your father.”

A shiver rolls through me, anticipation twisting into something sharper, something I don’t quite know how to name.

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