An image of where else the man might lay his head tonight hazed Gabriel’s vision. Blindly, he strode across the floor. Before he could reach Sebastian, a fed-up Erin turned the tables and grabbed Gabriel’s hand. She plowed through the knots of celebrating staff that occupied the main lobby, their mouths agape at the sight of their boss being tugged along in the angry woman’s wake.

As soon as they reached his office, she slapped the door shut on their audience. “How do we get upstairs?”

“The elevator.” Gabriel jabbed the hidden button, and a panel opened to reveal the lift. The car doors slid wide and they entered. They rode to the fourth floor in silence. She exited, waiting impatiently as he keyed open the loft door. He kicked at a package laid at the entryway, caring nothing for its spilled contents. He crossed to the window to stare down at the night.

When silence lingered, she asked neutrally, “What are you doing?”

“You dragged me in here. You tell me.” He ground out the explanation without looking at her.

“All right. What the devil is wrong with you?”

Angst stiffened his shoulders and unfamiliar jealousy writhed inside. Declarations whirled inside his head, each demanding to be the first. I love you. I won’t hurt you. I hate Sebastian Cain for touching you. For leaving you to that monster. Let me love you. Unable to choose, he said nothing.

When the quiet lengthened, Erin said evenly, “Words tend to help with the talking.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

The sarcasm cracked her veneer. She stormed over to the window. A few feet separated them, a healthy distance given her mood. He may not want her, but she’d be damned if he’d treat her like this. If anyone would ever again make her feel useless or unimportant or unworthy. She was a flesh-and-blood, living, breathing woman who deserved an explanation for his attitude. “I asked you a question. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I just don’t appreciate you bringing lover boy into my office.”

“I told you Sebastian was my friend,” she grated out. Struggling for reason, she explained, “We’re not interested in each other that way.”

Gabriel sneered. “Tell that to him.”

“This isn’t about Sebastian,” she corrected. “If you don’t want me, that’s your prerogative. But be mature enough to tell me the truth.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t want me anymore.”

His laugh was hard and pained. “Don’t want you? I can’t think of anything else!” He slapped his hands against the pane of glass. “I imagine you in my bed every night, wrapped around me. Taking me inside you.” Pressing his forehead to the cool glass, he told her, “I imagine you everywhere. In my car. In your bed. Anywhere.”