Diavolo Ch. 05

She avoided his intense gaze, fiddling with the straps of her sling purse instead. Now that the others were gone, she suddenly felt shy.

"Abigail," his deep growly voice called softly.

"I just came by to see how you were doing."

"It took you all day yesterday to buy a car and a crappy phone?"

His hurt tone had her looking up. "I can't be here every day." The reminder of the horrific horde of fans and reporters just waiting below had her shivering with fear.

He scowled. "And why not? Daniel keeping you occupied or something?"

She didn't miss the nasty way he hissed those words or the gleam of jealousy in his eyes. Abigail felt floored that he would even feel jealous. How was it possible?

"Daniel has nothing to do with any of this," she said defensively.

Gabriel scoffed, leaning farther back into the pillows. "Then what? You just hanging around the mansion hoping to catch his eye again?"

She had to clutch the strap of her purse to keep from slapping him.

"You know, I'm going to ignore those stupid remarks because the doctor said you had a concussion and I also know you're on strong meds so your brain might be a little confused," she spat.

Gabriel just sulked. Her irritation spiked because, surely, no one had the right to look so cute and sexy at the same time. Darn him.

"Look," he murmured fiddling with a fold in the sheet draped over his lap, "I'm sorry. It's just that...yesterday..." He took a deep breath, finally looking up at her, eyes guarded. "I woke up after the surgery thinking you'd be here, but you never showed up. Guess I was feeling a bit sorry for myself. I shouldn't have snapped at you that way. I'm sorry."

Abigail let out a pent up breath. His apology had her heart melting like a scoop of ice cream on a hot summer sidewalk. Oh-no, Abigail—she admonished herself. Do not fall for him!

"You need a shave," she said trying to change the subject.

His lip kicked up at the edge. "I can't shave one-handed, not unless I want to peel part of my cheeks and throat off." He gave her a slow blink. "Want to do it for me?"

Abigail's cheeks turned hot. "Shouldn't that be the nurses' job?"

His smile fell, replaced by a frown and eyes turning away from her. "It's bad enough they take liberties when bathing me. The least I can do is keep them out of my face. I'd rather grow a long beard than have them trying to kiss me too."

Abigail felt indignation roll through her. "Liberties? My-god, Gabriel. Are some of the nurses molesting you?"

Gabriel looked at her coolly. His sculpted shoulder rose in a shrug. "I'm a rock star. That type of attention comes with the territory."

Abigail shook her head, refusing to accept that. "You're hurt and in their care. They need to respect and care for you, not treat you like some prime cut of man flesh they can ogle and touch at will."

Gabriel smirked, one inky brow rising into a peaked arch. "Prime cut of man flesh?"

She choked on her own breath, avoiding his piercing gaze.

"Is that how you see me, baby?" he purred.

She needed to leave. He was too potent for her. Way out of her league. She didn't understand his fascination with her, but was sure it was most like due to the hit on his head. Before the accident he'd been bent on using her for revenge. Either way, she was heading to heartbreak with him as soon as all this blew over and he went back to his normal life of being a rock god. Diamond had assured them all that she was just the flavor of the week, obviously much like Mikayla had been.

"Abigail," he snapped.

She flinched and looked at him.

He stared at her, eyes wary. "You oaky?"

"Yes. I've gotta go." He was shaking his head, eyes wide, hand going out to try to grab her. She stayed out of his reach. "If you wouldn't mind giving me Anna Maria's number. I'd promised her I keep her abreast of how you were doing."

His hand stretched farther toward her, eyes pleading. "Why are you leaving? Where are you going?"

She stood taller, taking a deep breath and pasting a smile on her face. "I'm going apartment hunting."

"You're leaving the Montenegro estate?" His hand gripped the metal railing she'd pulled up between them.

"Yes. I think it's better if I live on my own."

His brows furrowed. "Uh...that's great. Where are you looking to settle down?"

She blinked at him. "I haven't decided yet."

"I might know of a place that's available to rent."

Abigail snorted. "I most likely wouldn't be able to afford whatever you have in mind."

"What price range were you looking for?" he asked, determined.

"Less the fifteen, I guess."

His brows shot up. "Fifteen grand?"

Abigail rolled her eyes. "Of course not. Fifteen hundred, and even that's a bit steep. I still haven't gotten a job so I'm not sure how much I can afford yet. I'm just shooting for something inexpensive for now."

Gabriel tipped his head to the side in consideration. "Well, this place I know, the owner is looking an in-house housekeeper. You'd be paid to live there and keep up the place."

Abigail blinked at him. It sounded too good to be true. "And who is the owner of this place?"

Gabriel's eyes grew cool. He shrugged, "Someone I know. I can tell Mike to take you by the place and show you. He has the key."

Abigail frowned. "Well, I'm not sure I'd feel comfortable living in someone else's home. I wanted a place for myself."

"Trust me. This dude won't be back in a while. By then You might be able to secure yourself a job and find something you really like instead of going through your savings as I'm suspecting you're planning to do. Right?"

Abigail bit her lower lip and nodded after a while.

"I guess I can think about it."

"Good. Now lower the damn rail and sit with me. I missed you."

She gripped the straps of her purse again and swallowed. "Gabriel, we need to stop this farce already."

He frowned. "Farce?"

She bobbed her head up and down. "Yes. I'm not your girlfriend. If you wanted to get back at Mikayla for lying and tricking you, I assure you she has learned her lesson. Daniel and she are already putting the finishing touches on their nuptials as we speak. There's no need to pretend you like me anymore."

Gabriel's eyes were the darkest shade of emerald as they held hers. He licked his lips slowly. "But, Abby...I do like you...a lot."

Abigail's jaw dropped. "No," she whispered.

"Yes," he reiterated, face more serious than a heart attack.

She shook her head, her hat tipping off her head to fall at her feet. Her long braid fell over her shoulder drawing Gabriel's smoldering gaze.

She laughed nervously. "You can't possibly be serious?"

He frowned now, eyes going back up to stare intently into hers. "I'm serious, Abigail. I really like you. You're sweet, untainted by all the hype that surrounds me and you're...you're real. I love that."

"I'm different," she said without an ounce of emotion.

His eyes became wary again. "Yes. Different."

She walked over to the railing and reached up to undo the ties to her sundress. His eyes widened, pupils widening enough to almost swallow the glittering green irises. "So that's why you want me? Want to peel off my clothes and have your way with me?" her fingers slipped into the bodice of her dress to pull it down slowly, exposing an inch of the top swell of her breasts.

Gabriel's eyes were glued to the movement, his Adam's apple bobbing with the harried gulp he took.

"Oh-yes, baby," he sighed.

Abigail blinked back the wetness of her eyes. He only wanted her for sex.

Lowering her hand to the railing, she leaned down to look into his confused eyes. "Well that's too bad, Mr. Raven, because there has to be more than that for a man to have access to my body."

He flinched, and frowned. "Okay. What else do you need to let me f—"

Abigail reared back, her face flaming. Luckily he stopped himself in time before he said what would have probably had her turning around and leaving that room for the last time.

He pressed his lips together. "Abigail, clearly I have no experience in dealing with a good girl like you, but I want to try. Do you think you can find it in your heart in having a little patience with me? I'd really like—no, love to get to know you and see where this leads."

She shook her head. "I can't—"

"Why?" His hand covered one of hers on the railing. "Is it because of how I look?" he gestured to his tattoos.

Abigail shook her head, appalled he'd think she thought less of him because of his hair and ink. "No. It's just the whole..." her free hand flailed. "I'd have no privacy anymore with reporters and fans hounding—"

"It isn't always that way, Abby. They get tired and move on to something else. That's how this has always been."

She shook her head. There was no way she could deal with having her image and name everywhere. And what about when Gabriel finally tired of her. Because he eventually would. He was exciting and she was nothing but a boring simple girl.

"Abby, please,"

She snatched her hand away. "Look, I need to think about this. Stop pressuring me."

"I'm sorry, but I don't want to lose you."

She looked at him, saw the sincerity in his eyes.

"Gabriel," she sighed. The sudden urge to kiss him had her drawer closer. Just one little kiss and she'd leave.

He gripped her hand as she leaned against the railing.

Behind her the door opened and footsteps sounded behind her, along with the sound of a man clearing his throat.

Abigail straightened, her cheeks already warm with embarrassment at almost being caught kissing Gabriel.

Turning, however, the color drained from her countenance as she faced none other than Daniel and Mikayla.

Daniel's expression was stony, but Mikayla's was downright poisonous.

"I'm sorry if we interrupted anything," Daniel said primly.

"No," Abigail laughed, her voice too shrill even to her own ears. "I was just leaving. Goodbye, Gabriel," she said patting his hand before dashing out of the room."

She was sure she heard Gabriel shout out her name, but by then she was halfway out the door and sprinting toward the elevators before the doors closed.

Her hands shook as she waited for the elevator doors to finally close. She almost half expected him to come hobbling out of his room after her. Silly, of course, because the man had a busted leg and couldn't walk well yet.

The doors finally closed and she closed her eyes in relief. People got on and off in the elevator until they reached the ground floor where she knew she had to traverse the emergency room waiting area to get to her car safely again.

Michael's face was the first thing she saw when the doors opened. He stood leaning against the wall opposite the elevator, cell phone against his ear, eyes focused on her intently.

"Got it. She's here. Gotta go now."

She exited the elevator just as he stepped up to her with a smile. She had to crane her neck to look at his face.

"I came with Rafe, but he took off somewhere and I need to get home to Erica before she has me sleeping in the dog house again."

"Oh," Abigail nodded. "I'll give you a ride. Is it far?"

"Just a few minutes away. Gabe told me to show you the house next to mine that's empty right now."

Abigail blinked. Next to Michael's?

"Let's go before I attract any attention," Michael said pulling a ball cap over his ponytail. Next he slipped his sunglasses over his eyes.

Abigail patted her head, remembering she'd left her hat on the floor in Gabriel's room. No matter. She was definitely not going up there now.

Replacing her regular glasses with her prescription sunglasses, she took Michael's proffered arm and headed out into the warm morning sunshine.

Michael didn't say a word about her car, thankfully. They made their way west toward the Pacific Coast Highway. Michael fiddled around with the stations, complaining about the lack of Bluetooth capability. Minutes later when they arrived at Route One, he told her to go straight onto Bayside Drive. The homes in this area were beautiful, and the smell of salty ocean air permeated the vents in the Beetle. Fancy cars and SUVs adorned the driveways along with jet skis.

Michael pointed out two houses farther along the wide street. There was one wide drive leading to an ample parking area shared by the two homes. The house on the right was made of stones, two stories high with white-framed picture windows and a redwood floored front yard leading to the dark bluish grey front door. The house on the left was made of grey wood, also with two floors and a big red door in its entry.

They got out of the car and headed toward the white house.

Abigail hung back, feeling awkward going into a house alone with the big guitarist. He didn't seem to notice. Just plucked out a pair of keys from his pocket and opened the front door to the house.

The first thing she noticed was the scent. Apples and cinnamon. She followed her nose into the house and stopped just inside the doorway.

Beneath her feet was a glossy hardwood floor, arranged in pretty squares of varying shades of reddish gold to deep dark brown, which contrasted beautifully with the stark white walls. Sunlight poured in from the front windows and back glass doors through which she could see an array of sailboats and other sea craft bobbing up and down in a marina. To her left was a massive stone fireplace with a flat screen TV above it. Plush beige couches sat before the fireplace, an array of plump pillows in shades of sea glass green and white, some with pretty patterns, others embroidered in pearly beads. There was an enormous picture of a sunset framed in a thick dark wood frame that looked really expensive. Behind one of the couches was an enormous mirror with a similar frame gilded with golden details. To her immediate right was a split-level stairwell curving up to the second floor, and leading down to another level below. The kitchen was just beyond the stairs, occupying the entire right side of the house. The walls were open, giving the impression of openness but once you stepped into the kitchen, the wood flooring gave way to stark white tiles with pale grey grout. Everything in the kitchen was white, from the cabinets to the tiled countertops and backsplashes, as well as the porcelain double sinks. The only exception was an island made of whitewashed wood with a stainless steel counter top that matched the appliances. A window looked out into a little terrace at the side of the house. She smiled when she saw a hammock swinging lazily beneath a cluster of palm trees. Beyond the living area was a long glass dining table with a chrome base. Six transparent chairs rested around it, blending in beautifully with the scenery of the marina just beyond the glass doors. Tucked into the right hand corner was a gleaming black baby grand piano and a cello resting in an upright stand next to it.

Abigail was already in love with the place, hearing the soft sound of wind chimes just outside made her eyes well.

"Let me show you downstairs," Michael said already heading down.

Abigail followed as if in a trance, her trembling hand caressing the cool mahogany handrail that rested upon black wrought iron. Each step was carpeted in off white and cushioned her steps. The scent of apples and cinnamon followed them downstairs.

More gleaming hardwood flooring and the sight of an entire back wall made of glass doors with a view of the marina and its docks greeted her. There was another fireplace in the L-shaped space with a large furry rug thrown in front of it toward the back and a wet bar complete with a mirrored wall. Before the wide expanse of glass windows was a green felted pool table. Just outside the glass doors, was a fire pit with lounge chairs around it. A pretty boat was tied to the outside pier, bobbing and swaying with the current.

Michael was opening a dark wood door to the left, leading her into a big bedroom. The floors were the same hardwood flooring as the rest of the house, walls white just as the rest had been. The king-sized bed rested on a woven rug in the center of the room. It had no headboard but the sumptuous off white bedding included a ridiculous amount of pillows that invited one to just dive in and take a heavenly nap. Behind the bed hung an enormous clay sun, the eyes closed and lips smiling gently as the moon seemed to curve around half of it, lips touching lips in a sweet kiss.

Abigail loved the antique looking wooden chest at the foot of the bed, the dark wood night tables with lovely round porcelain lamps to either side. Gauzy curtains hung to either side of the floor to ceiling glass doors. There was also an antique looking desk in the shape of a half moon with its chair in the corner. The mirrored closet doors reflected the glass doors and the marina beyond. Next to the long closet, a short corridor lead to a white tiled bathroom complete with a claw-footed tub and walk in shower cabin that featured multiple jets for its water spray.

"This place is...it's amazing," Abigail gushed.

Michael grinned and held the keys out to her.

Abigail stared at him wide-eyed. "Oh, I couldn't possibly."

He frowned. "Why not? I've gotta clean this place and frankly I'm getting tired of it. I've got my own house to clean and tend to as well as compose music and keep the band going. You'd actually be doing me a favor."

Abigail looked around, eyes wide. "But what about the owner?"

"The owner trusts me to make the right choice in picking someone to look after this place."

It all seemed so strange to Abigail. "Who is he...or she?"

Michael shook his head. "He prefers to keep his identity a secret. No one knows he lives here. No one knows I live next door either. We like keeping a low profile."

Abigail just stared at him wondering who the owner could be.

"What if he needs to come back here?"

"He hasn't been here in months. Don't worry about it. Gabe or I will let you know if he decides to return. This would be your room."

"And where is his room?"

"Upstairs. But that's locked and off limits." Michael's stern look brooked no arguments.

Abigail dug the tip of her espadrille against the shiny floor, locking her hands at the small of her back. "So I'm supposed to just live here and keep things tidy?"

Michael nodded.

"But wouldn't his room get all dusty?"

The big guitarist grinned. "There's a lovely woman named Sharmane that comes over every once in a blue to tend to his room. There's another entrance on the outside to up there. She just lets herself in, cleans his room and leaves.

Abigail frowned, "But if he already has someone to clean his house, why would he want someone else?"

"Sharmane only comes around once a month. He would rather have someone here full time to keep an eye on things. Sharmane is already working at another household. She only comes over sometimes to do him the favor when he's out of town."

"And just his room?"

Michael shrugged. "Like I said, she just does it as a favor when he's gone. I think he's only slept about five times here since he bought this place, and that was months ago."

Again, Abigail looked around, coming out to look at the fire pit and lounge area. "What a shame. It's so soothing and beautiful here."

"Yeah, well, he wanted it to be his sanctuary, but someone he loves very much got sick and now he chooses to stay with her."

Abigail turned to regard him wide-eyed. "Oh, how sad. Does he love her?"

Michael's smile faded as he nodded. "She means the world to him."

"Well I'm glad he decided to go back to her. Maybe one day he might bring her here."

Michael's grin grew sad. "Maybe. So what say you? Shall I go with you to the mansion to get your stuff?"

She nibbled her lower lip again. "Gabriel said there was payment for keeping the place clean. How much are we talking about?"

She imagined it might not be much since she would be here rent free possibly. She had so many questions.