Chapter 5

5

CALEB

T he car falls quiet again. What I usually consider comforting is now exactly the opposite. I despise it, but I do not wish for her to believe that she is obligated to fill the silence. I don’t want her to think she has to do anything. But her words have given me purpose. I want the pretending to end.

"Oh, the address,” she finally says. “My phone is being a brat.” Gabriella lets out an adorable huff.

“Why don’t you stay with me?” I offer.

“What? I couldn't do that.”

“Why not? I have a penthouse with five bedrooms.”

“Why do you have five bedrooms?”

“I wanted to be on the top floor, and the resale value is top tier.”

“I don’t want to intrude. You’re already doing too much. The ride and then offering me a job.” Shit, how can I convince her to stay with me? An idea pops into my mind. In the corporate world, you have to think fast. Being at the top of your game is crucial.

"Actually, it's part of the job. I need an assistant.” I toss it out there.

“Don't you have one?”

“I have one for work, but I need a personal one that handles things outside of work. Keeps the rest of my life in line.”

“Hmm.” I glance in the rearview mirror. I can barely make her out, but I can see that she is tapping two fingers against her mouth as she thinks. “I’m not really sure how to do that. I’d be lost and might make things worse.”

Always so damn honest. She has to be the worst applicant ever. You’re supposed to talk yourself up, not down. Gabriella needs someone to protect her from the rest of the world. Then she can be her bubbly, happy self, and nothing can harm her.

“I’m not sure either, but we can learn together,” I offer.

“Do you really need a personal assistant, or are you being your sweet self and just offering because you feel bad?" Every time she calls me sweet, I want to laugh. No one would ever call me that.

“Trust me, Gabriella, I promise you I need this.” More than she probably wants to know. "You'd be doing me a favor." I keep going, wanting to sell this. "I'm really behind because of the holidays." Little does she know, I couldn’t give a shit about the holidays.

"Oh, like at home?" I can hear the curiosity in her voice. "Is your home not Christmas-ready?"

"No, it's not." That's the honest truth. "I have nothing done for Christmas."

"And you want to, like, decorate? Buy gifts and such?"

“Yes to all those things."

"That kinda sounds fun. I'd probably do that for free."

Jesus Christ. I don't want to think about all the ways people have likely exploited her kindness. Thankfully, I have now found her. No one will ever take advantage of her again.

"I would pay you. If I didn't pay you, I wouldn't feel right.”

"Right, so we keep it professional." Do I hear a hint of disappointment?

"Gabriella, our relationship goes beyond mere professionalism. Don't you think so?" I'm fishing here, but I need a feel for where she might be. The last thing I want to do is scare her off.

I have never dated. This shit is all new to me. I'm not accustomed to finding myself in unfamiliar situations.

"Yes, I was really sad I might not see you again. Then boom, you were here." I glance in the mirror again to see her smiling. Those dimples of hers are on full display. I have the greatest urge to kiss them. I can’t help it when my lips turn up into a smile. The expression feels foreign. No one has ever evoked this sort of reaction from me.

“It’s settled then. You’ll live with me and be my personal assistant. Sound like a deal?” I wait for what feels like an eternity for her reply, unsure of what I’ll do if she doesn’t agree. The thoughts that cross my mind are not the most legal solutions. I definitely cannot kidnap her.

“You’ve got yourself a new personal assistant.” Her words break me from my thoughts of living as a fugitive just to have her with me. Relief and something else fill me with her agreement. Thank fuck.

Gabriella chirps on about all the things I’ll need if we decorate my home for the holidays. I mentally jot down a note to email Lauren, informing her that I might arrive late tomorrow, if at all. I also need to arrange for her to purchase a new phone for Gabriella. I want to be able to reach her at all times. I don't want her phone to stop working.

“Are you going into your office?” Gabriella asks when I pull down into the underground garage. The guard lifts the gate when he sees it’s me. I pull back into my normal parking spot.

“The top five floors are residents,” I tell her before getting out. I open the back door to grab her two trash bags. I want to toss them into one of the dumpsters, but I don't think she'd be too happy about that.

“I had no idea.” Gabriella holds on to her tiny piece of luggage. We need to do more than get holiday decorations. I’d rather spend tomorrow getting her things.

“One of the residential floors is for people who are traveling. I take up the top two, and the other two are for some executives.” Gabriella follows me toward the elevators.

“Wait, do you own the building?”

“Yes.” I hit the button. Gabriella’s eyes widen at my response.

“I had the top floors converted. I thought it would be more convenient.” The doors slide open. “This bank of elevators is for the resident-only floors.” I pull out my card and scan it. “I’ll get you one.”

“How do you get to the offices?”

“You take this elevator down to one of the other residential floors. There will be another set there you can use.”

“I can’t believe you own a whole building.”

“It’s an investment.” I try to downplay it. Gabriella shifts on her feet.

I understand that her upbringing differs greatly from mine. My family always had money. I went to the best of schools and had a trust fund that helped me launch my career.

One thing we do have in common is not having family. Sure, mine are alive, but my father is a piece of shit, and my mother worships the ground he walks on.

Gabriella grew up in the foster system and fought for everything she has. Still, she’s as sweet and kind as can be. While I’m an asshole. I try to keep people away. Being a dick is the best way to do that.

“Ope,” Gabriella says when the elevator doors open right into my home. “That’s fancy.” She steps off. I follow after her. God knows I’d follow her anywhere.