Page 11 of Omega's Pretend Mate
I walked over, slid my arms underneath him and picked him up. Gabe curled into me, pressing his face to my chest again.
I carried him down the hall, laid him on the bed, and wrestled him out of his shirt and pants so he’d be more comfortable before tucking him in. Then I brought in more water, aspirin and the wastebasket, and was grateful for dimmer switches as I set the light low enough for him to sleep, but light enough for him to see if he woke up in the middle of the night.
Then I retreated to my kitchen, where I poured myself something stiffer than the beer he’d drank.
What had gotten to Gabe so badly that he’d felt the need to get drunk? And why did he keep insisting that somebody was going to take away his house?
Unfortunately, I knew I wasn’t going to get any answers until morning.
Chapter 3 - Gabe
Ifelt like crap, and I had to piss.
I opened my eyes, and immediately squeezed them shut again. It had been a bad idea, a headache exploding behind my eyes as soon as the light hit them.
After a few seconds I remembered that I’d gone to my favorite bar for drinks the night before.
I’d spent several nights alternating between reviewing my finances and looking for any loophole in my trust that would let me be named trustee without getting married or mated. However, the trust terms were ironclad, and no matter how I’d juggled my finances, I still came up short. No matter what I did, it looked like I was going to lose my house once grandfather passed.
Finally I’d given up, decided to drown my woes, and gone to Mitchell’s.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember anything after that. I was laying in bed, but had no idea how I’d got there.
I scrunched my nose, wondering if my housekeeper had switched detergents. The sheets smelled different, more chemically than what she normally used. Though there was something pleasant that was just barely detectable.
My bladder reminded me that I couldn’t avoid the world all day, and I forced my eyes open again.
My stomach sank as soon as I was able to focus. This wasn’t my bedroom, and I had no idea where I was.
It was then that I realized I wasn’t wearing a shirt or pants, and I began to panic until I felt my underwear digging into my hips. But underwear was only a slight reassurance since I still had no idea where I was.
I shifted to a sitting position, and after looking around a moment I spotted a bottle of water and a couple of aspirin on a nightstand. Underneath the water was a note.
Gabe,
The bathroom is the second door on the right from the guest bed. I hope you’re feeling better. I left a shirt and some pajama pants on the chair for you. They’ll probably be too big, but I figured you wouldn’t want to smell like a bar when you woke up. My bedroom is the first door on the right if you need anything.
Better was definitely up for debate. I felt like death warmed over. But I wasn’t drunk anymore, I only had the biggest hangover of my life. I was also more confident that I hadn’t been taken advantage of, since whoever had brought me here was obviously sleeping in another room.
I took a moment to let my headache settle from a sharp pain to a dull throb, then attempted to stand.
That was a mistake as my entire body protested doing anything at all after drinking heavily. But I still had to piss and I might as well get it over with.
I spotted the chair and grabbed the shirt, which was so large it rested lopsided on one shoulder. But I didn’t care as I stumbled from the strange bedroom and into the bathroom.
I breathed a sigh of relief as at least one part of my body stopped complaining. Then I caught sight of myself in the mirror, and I couldn’t decide if I looked or felt worse.
I hadn’t looked so rough since my last semester of law school when I’d pull all-nighters studying for exams.
I splashed some cold water on my face, which felt good if nothing else. Then I stepped back into the hall with the intent of getting my things so I could leave. But noise from the other end of the… apartment by the layout… caught my attention.
I tip-toed down the hall, listening to a man humming and moving about. Then I turned a corner to look into a small kitchen.
Right there, standing at the stove and looking absolutely delicious in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a white tee, was my work crush: Christian Jeffries.
I groaned before I could help it. Of all the people to see me at my lowest, of course it had to be him.
Christian heard me, looked over, then turned off the stove and walked to where I was standing. He immediately rested his warm hands on my upper arms.
