Chapter 3: Your Hands Are Shaking

Lily's POV

Monday morning. I'm walking into Sterling Group's conference room.

I didn't lie—Hartley Gallery actually landed the art acquisition project for Sterling Group. Of course, I pulled every string I had to make it happen.

The room's packed with executives sitting on both sides of a long table. Gabe's at the head, and when I walk in, his brow furrows just slightly. Almost imperceptible. But I catch it.

"Everyone, this is Lily Hart from Hartley Gallery," the project manager announces. "She'll be handling the art acquisition for our new headquarters building."

I open my presentation and launch into my pitch.

"Given Sterling Group's brand positioning, I'm recommending a blend of contemporary and classical art..."

I'm professional. My deck is flawless. But the whole time, I can feel his eyes on me. He's not looking at the projection. He's looking at me.

When I lean over to mark something on the whiteboard, I know he can see down my neckline. When I turn to point at the screen, I let the slit in my skirt show more leg than necessary.

After the meeting ends, everyone files out. I'm gathering my materials when Gabe approaches.

"Your proposal is solid," he says, all business.

"Thanks." I look up at him. "So we can start working together?"

He stares at me for three seconds.

"Follow the contract."

"Just work stuff?" I take a step closer. "Can't we chat like we used to?"

He backs up half a step.

"Lily, I'm busy."

Every time I move toward him, he retreats.

"I won't keep you then." I pick up my bag, deliberately pausing as I pass him. "But if you ever want to talk, I'm available."

My fingers brush his hand. Just for a second. But it's enough to make him freeze.

I walk out smiling.

That afternoon, Owen posts a photo on Instagram. Him and Brittany at the beach, her in a bikini sitting on his lap.

Caption: "Thanks to my ex for setting me free. Finally found someone who knows how to enjoy life. @LilyHart"

The comments are already rolling in with gossip. I close my phone. Don't care.

But a few minutes later, the Sterling family group chat lights up. Owen's sent a message: "Some people just can't take a hint after a breakup. Pathetic."

I'm about to reply when Gabe posts: "Shut up, Owen."

Three words. But my heart warms anyway.

Wednesday night, I'm working late at the gallery. When I step outside, rain's pouring down. No umbrella.

The elevator in my building's broken. I have to climb seven flights of stairs. By the time I reach my door, I'm soaked and shivering.

Hot shower doesn't help. I'm getting colder. I check my temperature. 101.3.

Fever.

I collapse into bed, head throbbing so hard I can't even get up to grab medicine. I drift in and out of sleep until the doorbell rings.

I stumble to answer it.

Gabe's standing there holding a pharmacy bag and a thermos.

"You..." I blink at him.

"I was passing your building and saw your light on." He frowns, studying my face. "You're burning up."

His hand touches my forehead. His expression darkens.

"You have a fever."

"Just a cold..."

"Inside." He pushes past me into the apartment.

First time he's been here.

He sets the medicine and food on the table, then opens the bag.

"Take this." He pours me a glass of warm water.

I reach for it, but my hands are shaking.

"I can do it myself..."

"Stop being stubborn." He opens the thermos and spoons out some soup. "Eat first. Medicine on an empty stomach'll wreck you."

He's going to feed me.

I stare at him, and suddenly my eyes are stinging.

Four years. Four years since anyone took care of me like this.

"Open," he says quietly.

I do. The warm soup slides down my throat, chasing away some of the chill. One spoonful after another. He's patient.

When the soup's gone, he hands me pills and water.

"Take these and get some sleep."

I swallow the medicine. He stands to leave.

"Don't go." I grab his sleeve. "I'm scared to be alone..."

I'm playing it up. But I also really do feel like hell.

He hesitates, then sighs and sits on the edge of the bed.

"Sleep. I'll stay until you're out."

I lie down. In the dim light, his profile is all sharp angles.

"Gabe," I say softly.

"Yeah?"

"Why'd you leave four years ago?"

Long silence.

"Because I couldn't destroy you."

"How would you destroy me?"

He turns to look at me, something complicated in his eyes.

"Lily, do you understand how wrong what we did that night was?"

"Wrong how?"

"I raised you." His voice cracks. "From the time you were seven. I watched you grow up. I raised you like a daughter. But I..."

"But you love me." I cut him off. "You love me, don't you?"

He closes his eyes.

"That's not an excuse. That makes it worse."

"I'm twenty-five now." I sit up, moving closer. "I'm not a kid anymore. And I've loved you this whole time. That's never changed."

I touch his face.

His whole body goes rigid.

"Gabe, why are you torturing us?"

Then I kiss his jaw. Soft. Brief.

But enough to make him jerk to his feet.

"You're running a fever." His voice is strained. "You don't know what you're doing."

"I do know." I catch his hand. "Gabriel Sterling, look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me."

He looks at me. His eyes are full of desire, pain, struggle. But he can't say the words.

Finally, he pulls his hand away.

"Get some rest."

He leaves like he's escaping. The door closes softly, but in the quiet apartment it sounds deafening.

The next morning, my fever's broken. There's a note on the nightstand.

"Medicine's on the table. Take it on schedule. Drink water. Take care. —G"

I press the note to my chest.

Then my phone rings.

Owen.

"Heard my uncle spent the night at your place?" His voice drips with mockery. "Lily, you're really that desperate? Going after your own guardian? That's not sick to you?"

My stomach drops.

"None of your business."

"I'm gonna make sure everyone knows," Owen says viciously. "That you're a homewrecker who seduced her own father figure."

"You wouldn't."

"Watch me."

He hangs up.

I'm gripping my phone, palms sweating.

Loving Gabe is my choice. But I don't want him threatened because of me.