Chapter 733:

🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙

“I’m sorry for what happened last night. I was just worried about you. I was afraid something bad might have happened. I called everyone close to you—Sandy, Nancy. Neither of them answered, and no one else seemed to know where you were. Eventually I woke up my private investigator to track you down. That’s exactly when you walked in. So I apologized and sent him back to bed.”

I was speechless. He’d done all that? Just out of worry? I truly hadn’t realized how much I’d worried him the night before. I took a sip of orange juice before looking at him.

“Sorry. I had no idea you were that worried.”

He gave me a smile and took my hand. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too, for yelling at you last night. I thought about what you said, and you were right. I dragged you into this mess—I don’t have the right to question you.”

“Gab, that’s not what I meant.”

“No, Madi, I understand. We got married because of my deal. We’re not really husband and wife, not really a couple. I never once asked your permission before I left, or told you where I’d been, these past days and nights. You were right about that too. But Madi, I need you to understand me.”

Wow. “Understand” — such a heavy word.

“It’s not because I’m your boss, or your husband. It’s because I’m your friend—that’s why I worry about you, Madi. I’m a man, I can take care of myself. But it’s different for you. You’re a woman.”

“So you’re saying I’m weak?”

“No! That’s not what I meant. Madi, I care about you. I know you can’t always see it, but I care, because I consider you my friend.”

Ouch. That one hurt. One more heavy word: friend.

𝗬𝘰𝘂𝘳 ո𝖾х𝘁 fа𝘃o𝗋it𝗲 r𝖾а𝘥 іs 𝗈ո 𝗴𝘢𝗹n𝗈𝘷e𝗹ѕ.𝗰оm

“Greg was with me. He could’ve protected me if it had come to that. Besides, he’s my friend too, same as you.”

“Tsk. Madi, he can’t protect you twenty-four hours a day. He’s not a superhero.”

“And can you? Can you protect me twenty-four hours a day, Gabriel?”

“Madi, please don’t argue with me on this. If you want, from now on, I’ll tell you all my plans and where I’m going. I’m just asking you to promise you’ll always tell me where you are too.”

“Why? I never asked that of you.”

“I know. But tell me anyway, so I can come get you if you can’t drive. I can go with you whenever you go out.”

I laughed and pulled my hand from his. “Are you sure about that? What’s your alcohol tolerance, Gab?” I asked, standing up, finishing the last of my orange juice.

“I don’t know—I think I could survive an entire bottle of whiskey. But why are you asking me that?” he said, puzzled.

.

.

.