Page 16 of The Don's Dilemma (Caprice Langden)

Chapter Six

- Gabriel -

Ientered The Beastthrough my private entry in the back. I didn’t always use it, but I wasn’t in the mood to push my way through the throng of loud clubbers. It was late by the time Suzanne and I finished our coffee and I took her home, and much later by the time I made it back to Connecticut.

The drive wasn’t long enough - I was still in knots. I wanted to linger over a long goodnight. Hell, I didn’t want to leave at all. If she’d said the word, or made the right move, I would have thrown my good intentions, what few I had, right out the fucking window.

I reminded myself I was trying to be a nice guy. I was a good boy. I kept my hands to myself. I walked her to her door. I took the key out of her hand and opened the door for her. It took two seconds after she switched on the light for me to scan the room and know she was safe at home. I told her I’d pick her up at six if that worked for her. I had no clue yet where I would take her. Unfortunately, I had other obligations later in the evening, so our next date would be shorter than tonight’s. I explained it to her as I lingered in her doorway.

“It’s okay. I understand. We can do whatever you want.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. Let me think about it and if I come up with an idea, I’ll call you?”

I pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. I don’t know why the hell I did that. It was an excuse to touch her when I was trying so hard not to.

“Are you really this nice, or are you just trying to get me to like you?” I murmured.

“I don’t know. Do you? Like me, that is?” she whispered back.

The animalistic growl gurgled up from the back of my throat. My cock lurched to attention, begging me to show her exactly how much I “liked” her.

“I like you so much, I’m going to leave. Good night, Suzanne.” I raised her hand to my lips and let the kiss linger over the softness of her skin. Her tiny gasp filled my senses, stoking the fire of urges I already struggled to restrain.

I didn’t dare wait for more. I didn’t know her well, but I sure as hell knew her well enough to know that a quick fuck on that tiny couch of hers wasn’t good enough for her - and it wasn’t what I wanted, either.

I didn’t wait for more words. I pulled the door shut behind me as I left her apartment. I took refuge in the hallway and waited until the latch clicked and the slide of a deadbolt told me she was locked safely inside. I didn’t move fast enough. Her whispered “goodnight” haunted me my entire drive home.

By the time I was back in the sanctuary of my office below the club, my body ached from over tight muscles and the disappointment of not achieving the release it desperately craved.

I threw back a shot of whisky and another quickly followed. Bracing my arms on the sideboard, I tried to squeeze my eyes shut to get the picture of her out of my mind. I had work to do. It was late for a date night, but in my world, it was still early. I had one meeting in particular that I needed a clear head for.

I poured another shot and rested the glass against my forehead. Which was worse: a cloudy head from the alcohol or the buzz I got from being around her? At least, the alcohol was a familiar feeling I knew how to deal with. I tossed back the third shot just as Andre walked into the room. He was probably the only person who could get away with walking in without permission.

He made a face when he saw me with the booze. “Went that badly, huh?”

I grunted, then walked to my desk and the comfort of my black leather chair, my “throne” as those who knew me well enough to tease me called it.

“Or did it go that well?”

“It went.” I logged into my computer and ignored his lighthearted attempts to get information from me. “How’s everything tonight?”

It was my usual question on a Saturday night. Monday morning was recap time. Sundays were family time. On Saturday night, I wanted details.

Realizing I wasn’t in the mood for his particular sense of humor, Andre pulled up a chair and got down to business. We spent the next three hours reviewing numbers, tracking data, and discussing “people issues” that we laughingly referred to as HR.

“We had another bad batch of skimmers. Las Vegas this time.”

I frowned. This was the third dozen this month.

“Don’t worry. They can’t be traced back to you.”

“I know.” I stayed calm. After all, this was the business. Losing my cool over a few dozen skimmers didn’t paint me in a good light, but the fact that bad skimmers kept popping up wasn’t a coincidence either.

“That’s not the issue.”

Andre nodded. “I know. We’re working on it.”

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