Page 59 of The Castle (Endgame 3)
My vision blurs, and I know that I’m crying. “Oh my God.”
“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice curiously flat.
When Gabriel agreed that I would return to Smith College, it had seemed like a dream. The correspondence classes were good, but nowhere near as immersive an experience as actually attending classes. The prospect of sitting through more live-streamed lectures seemed untenable.
Then I got the grade back on my final thesis. An A, along with an invitation to be his research assistant on his gender studies book. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.
And also a chance to rejoin my friends, especially Harper.
I’m coming with you, was all Gabriel said when I asked him.
“I love it,” I whisper, ashamed at the simplicity of the words. I’m awed at what he’s done for me—both his willingness to follow me and his boundless generosity to help me go.
“There are houses,” he says, speaking a little too fast. “I have pictures you could look at. But this way you have a full-service concierge so you can focus on your studies.”
I force back the tears. “And I imagine you’ll be making security modifications?”
“Already done.”
We’re standing side by side, but it’s too far apart. I fling myself into his arms, and he catches me like he’s been waiting for it. His shoulders are too wide for me to really hold, his body too tall and broad for me to embrace, but I give it my best shot, squeezing him so he understands how much this means to me.
He makes a soft sound—not pain, not pleasure. Something like longing.
“Thank you,” I say, pressing my face to the cool linen of his dress shirt.
“Are you sure you like it? You don’t have to—”
“Gabriel. I’m about to die; that’s how much I like it.”
“Is that good?”
I press my lips to his, showing him in a language he’ll understand. He gives me only a moment to control the caress before his mouth takes over, pressing harder, demanding entry. His tongue swipes against mine in a move both playful and hard.
When he pulls away, I’m panting.
“They needed an influx of cash,” he explains. “They were on the verge of accepting a buyout from one of the big hotel conglomerates, even though that would have stifled everything unique about this place. I purchased a majority share in your name.”
“Just like that?”
“Of course they’ll continue to manage operations. And you’ll reside in the penthouse exclusively.”
It’s going to take me some time to process the magnitude of this gift. I know that it will make my life easier during my final years here, and possibly into grad school, but that’s not why I’m really moved. Gabriel makes grand gestures like this, always watching me, always measuring. This is how he shows me what he feels inside. This is the language he uses. When he kept me at his estate, he wanted me to be comfortable. He wanted me to be safe. And now, with this, he wants me to be free.
I cup his jaw with my hand. “You’re insane,” I tell him solemnly.
“So are you,” he says, dipping to kiss my nose.
Taking a deep breath, I manage a tremulous smile. “So you know I’m going to have the best college parties, right?”
His expression hardens. “I thought you said this was an all-girl college.”
“Strictly speaking, but there are boys at the neighboring universities. Amherst and UMASS. That’s where Justin went. He was on the rowing team. Did I mention that?”
A growling sound rumbles through the air. “No frat boys.”
“They tend to show up wherever there’s beer,” I say apologetically. “It’s like a sixth sense.”
“And no alcohol.”
My eyes widen in pretend dismay. “Then however will I unwind after a long week of studying.”
He leans closer, his expression predatory. “I can think of a few ways.”
“Only a few?” I take a step backward, toward the bedroom.
The flash of violence in his golden eyes is the only warning I have before he charges. I manage to avoid his grasp by centimeters, fleeing into the bedroom, scrambling onto the high bed with its cool white sheets. When I’m in the middle, I hold up my hands.
“Wait.”
He comes to a halt at the foot of the bed, his body vibrating with tension. “I’m not a patient man, little virgin.”
I beg to differ, but I’m not going to argue the point right now. “I’m the proprietor of this establishment now, am I not?”
Bronze eyes darken. “Yes.”
“So I think I should be the one to make the rules.”
“What kind of rules?”
Once upon a time I had been a princess locked in a tower. His tower.
And I gave him my fantasies. I have dreams about being tied down.
Now I hold up the key thoughtfully, then tug at one end of the velvet ribbon. It wouldn’t be very tight, but that’s not the point. They’re symbolic chains more than real ones. The same way this hotel is a symbolic cage, something we both enjoy.
