CHAPTER SEVEN

Dear Diary…

I had no idea if I am mad as in angry or mad as in simply going crazy.

Either way… I am M.A.D.

X.O.X.O

💕💕💕

It's been two whole days.

Two days.

Forty-eight hours.

Two thousand eight hundred and eighty excruciating minutes since I had kissed Gabriel and watched the world ignite in his eyes for exactly three seconds before he smothered it with ice-cold panic.

But since then, all I had gotten was radio silence.

He hadn’t come to the office. Hadn’t answered a single one of my carefully casual “good morning” texts—which bruised the fuck out of my ego.

The bastard, the coward, had been hiding. Hiding from the girl who dared remind him she wasn’t eight years old anymore.

But the worst part was that a stupid, pathetic corner of my heart had actually been hurt that he’d go to such lengths just to avoid me… as if seeing my face would ruin his day or his entire life.

Coward.

I didn’t know if I regretted doing it—if I wished I could go back in time and stop my lips from ever touching his again—or if I was glad I’d done it… that I had finally cracked through that untouchable wall he kept around me.

But today, I strongly leaned toward regret, because apparently kissing me had been so awful that he had to vanish from work.

Repulsive?

I almost laughed… because Gabriel had not been repulsed.

I knew he hadn’t, because I had felt him that day.

I felt the way his fingers dug into my hips like he was drowning and I was the only thing keeping him afloat. I felt the intensity with which he kissed me back. And I felt him—hard against my stomach, thick and obvious and impossible to misinterpret.

He had wanted me.

For one heartbeat, he had wanted me so badly his whole body trembled.

So this disappearing act wasn’t disgust. It was him punishing himself for wanting me.

Coward.

Whatever.

He could go ahead and choke on his self-righteousness. I was done chasing him.

At least that was what I told myself repeatedly as I examined my reflection in the mirror—looking at the short pleated skirt that barely covered half my thighs, the sheer black lace thigh-highs with tiny bows, the silky white blouse unbuttoned just enough to make a grown man swallow his tongue.

All for a man who was pretending I didn’t exist.

Pathetic, Amara. Absolutely pathetic.

And also a hypocrite.

I grabbed my bag and headed downstairs, already rehearsing the cold professional smile I had perfected for today.

Just in case he showed up.

Then I stopped dead on the last step.

Marcus stood in the foyer, shifting from foot to foot like he was about to bolt.

He straightened the second he spotted me, cheeks going pink. “Hey… sorry. Again. I know I keep showing up uninvited.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re making a habit of it.”

“Yeah. That’s actually why I’m here. To apologize.”

“Apologize?” I frowned. “What for?”

“The other day I ambushed you. I thought maybe I could introduce myself properly… get to know my fiancée… get to know you. But it looked like I made you uncomfortable with my presence, so I’m sorry about that.”

The word fiancée made me flinch, but I was careful not to show it.

The poor guy was caught up in this whole mess just like me, with no say in it. There was no reason to be rude.

“You did nothing wrong, Marcus,” I said, meaning it. “I was a bitch, and I’m sorry about that.”

Relief flooded his face. “So we’re okay?”

“We’re okay.” I hesitated, then heard myself say, “But I’m already late for work, and I have to go… but maybe we can catch up later tonight for dinner?”

His whole face lit up like I’d handed him the moon. “Seriously? Yeah, that’d be awesome. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Seven’s perfect.” I typed my number into his phone when he offered it, our fingers brushing for half a second. He blushed harder, and I pretended not to notice.

I walked out feeling a little lighter.

The drive to the office was a blur, my heart doing stupid cartwheels the closer I got… anticipation, the same thing it had done for days. And I hated myself for it.

Hated that a part of me still held onto hope even though I should have been furious and humiliated.

The moment I arrived, I checked Gabriel’s office first—because of course I did.

Just in case he decided to show up today.

And when I saw the door cracked open and heard the sound of papers rustling, my traitorous mouth curved into a smile.

I pushed the door open without knocking.

But the moment I stepped inside, the smile fell from my face and the floor beneath me seemed to disappear.

Gabriel was definitely in his office. And definitely busy.

He had a woman bent over his desk, blonde hair spilling everywhere, skirt bunched around her waist, his hand fisted in her hair while his hips drove into her and—

I made a choked sound and bolted, slamming the door so hard the hinges screamed.

My back hit the wall, and I just stood there—lungs burning, eyes burning, everything burning.

Gabriel had seen me right before I turned.

Bastard.

Two days of avoiding me and this was what he came back to do?

Screw some random blonde on the exact spot he kissed me?

But why the fuck was I bothered?

Why was my heart racing, shattering all over again? I had always known Gabriel was a player—everyone did.

But I had always thought he was serious about business.

Yet this was the second time I’d walked in on him with another woman in his office.

“Amara.”

His voice came through the wood.

“Come back in here. Please.”

I wiped my face viciously, put on a neutral expression, and shoved the door open again.

The blonde sprinted past me, almost bumping into me, her blouse half buttoned, lipstick smeared as she muttered “excuse me,” like she was the one who should be embarrassed.

Gabriel looked wrecked. His shirt hung open, his tie was on the floor, and his hair was a mess like fingers had been in it all morning.

He dragged both hands through it, eyes locked on me.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “For interrupting you, sir.”

Gabriel frowned like my reaction threw him off, then shook his head. “Fuck, Amara, I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

I lifted my chin, forcing my voice into perfect icy calm. “Nothing to apologize for, sir. Your personal life is none of my concern. I should’ve knocked instead of barging in.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Call me ‘sir.’ Talk like a goddamn robot.” He took a step closer. “What the hell is wrong with you today?”

Everything. You. Me. This entire fucked-up morning.

I clutched the folder I’d brought tighter against my chest.

“I have no idea what you mean, sir. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Amara…”

“I have documents for you to review and sign. I spent last night digitizing everything—new system, cloud storage, e-signatures. You’ll be able to do everything from your phone, which is more convenient as it saves paper, space, and time.”

“Amara…”

“I also color-coded the folders,” I rushed on, because if I stopped I would scream. “Red for urgent, yellow for pending, green for completed. I even added calendar reminders so you never miss a deadline again. You’re welcome.”

Gabriel stared at me, something stormy brewing behind his eyes. “Is that really why you came in here? To talk about filing systems?”

No. I came to see if you missed me even a fraction as much as I missed you.

“Yes,” I lied.

He stepped closer, and I could smell him—cedar and sin and that stupid cologne that had haunted my dreams for years.

“You’re shaking,” he said quietly.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” Another step. He was close enough that I had to tilt my head back. “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” My voice cracked on the last word.

Traitor.

His eyes dropped to my mouth for a split second, then snapped back up. “That shouldn’t have happened in here. It was—”

“Completely within your rights,” I cut in. “You’re a single man. You can fuck whoever you want, wherever you want. It’s really not a concern of mine.”

His nostrils flared. “That’s not—”

“I’m having dinner with Marcus tonight,” I blurted, apparently determined to twist the knife in both of us. “And I’m sorry about the kiss the other day. It was inappropriate, and it won’t happen again.”