Chapter 134
Chapter 134:
Restless thoughts of Wesley kept Gabriela from drifting off, her mind circling back to him no matter how she tried to distract herself. Each time she shifted in bed, her sore ankle brushed against the sheets, sending a quick, sharp jolt through her and drawing a wince.
The whole day had felt cursed from start to finish.
After rolling over a few more times, she snatched up her phone and fired off a message to “NotASaunders,” venting her irritation. “What exactly was that stunt at the wedding today? You showed up with a girlfriend and didn’t even warn me p>
She waited for what felt like forever, but her screen stayed blank.
Frustration bubbling over, she typed out another message. “If you weren’t going to help me, you should’ve said so. I could have rented a boyfriend myself. You told me to buy the suit—so why set me up to look like a fool p>
Yet again, silence was all that came.
Her temper flared so hot she nearly sent another message demanding the hundred thousand dollars back immediately. For a spoiled heir like Brenden, that kind of money was no more than a night’s pocket change. For her, every single bill had been fought for and earned.
At last, after what felt like an eternity, a reply popped up: “Idiot p>
New chapters every week on.com
Gabriela stared at the screen, stunned. What the hell was that supposed to mean? After humiliating her in public, wasting her money, and making her the butt of the joke, Brenden had the audacity to throw that at her?
Fury coursed through her as she smacked the mattress with her palm—then froze mid-swing. This wasn’t even her bed. If she broke it, she wouldn’t be able to afford the damages.
She pushed herself upright, drawing in a few steadying breaths until the tightness in her chest began to ease. Her thoughts drifted back to the whole ridiculous business of having Brenden pretend to be her boyfriend, and the more she replayed it, the clearer it became—he had never been committed. Even after returning from Afluena, he’d hesitated.
She was supposed to notice the warning signs at that moment.
Yet he’d told her to buy a suit, even gone so far as to present her with a gown, and that kindness had sparked her hope again. Then, on the wedding day, he’d shown up late—while girlfriend number forty-one had already been waiting at the venue. If Wesley hadn’t stepped in, Josh would probably still be sobbing into his champagne.
From the very beginning, Brenden had been playing her. The realization sent heat surging through Gabriela again, and she silently vowed to return the humiliation at the first opportunity. For tonight, though, revenge could wait. Sleep came first.
Gabriela slid beneath the covers without hesitation, letting the mattress swallow her up in warmth. The pillow carried a faint trace of shower gel, layered with a subtle masculine scent that wrapped around her like an invisible embrace. Heat crept into her cheeks as she curled deeper into the blanket, the phantom sensation of Wesley’s arms lingering in her mind.
True to her nature, she didn’t linger on unpleasant thoughts. Once she’d shaken off the last of her earlier frustration, her breathing slowed and sleep claimed her. Her dreams spiraled into a collage of vivid, disordered moments—every one of them centered on Wesley, his tall frame and sculpted muscles impossible to ignore.
By morning, the knot of tension had unraveled. She woke feeling unexpectedly light, her ankle tender but far less painful. It seemed the ointment Wesley had rubbed in worked.
After a quick wash, she slipped back into yesterday’s clothes, tugged on the cheerful slippers Miriam had set out for her, and padded toward the stairs. Wesley sat on the sofa, the morning paper spread neatly in his hands. At the faint sound of footsteps on the stairs, he lifted his head.
Instead of his usual tailored suit, he wore a pale knit sweater, the casual attire softening the crisp, imposing edge he normally carried and lending a quiet warmth to his striking features. When she faced him, Gabriela’s pulse quickened and unbidden images from last night’s dreams rushed back, making it impossible for her to meet his gaze.
“Morning, Gabriela,” he said, his voice smooth and clear.
The early hour left a subtle huskiness in his tone, and the sound rippled through her in a way she couldn’t quite name. She straightened slightly, answering with careful respect, “Good morning, Mr. Moss p>
Wesley’s gaze flicked to her ankle, noting she was able to stand evenly now, a clear sign the injury had eased. The faintest crease in his brow smoothed away.