Taming the Bitch (COMPLETED)

Chapter XXII - NOT IN A MILLION YEARS

"Why do you always have to get so drunk, Gab...?" Vincent whispered, brushing his thumb over her flushed cheek. Her skin was warm, her eyes glassy from the alcohol she had thrown back after the party went sideways.

It should have been a beautiful night.

It would have been—if Cathy hadn't shown up at the Terrace opening draped around an obviously wealthy sugar daddy.

Until that moment, Vincent had felt something hopeful building between him and Gabrielle. Even though they'd fallen into comfortable silence after their kiss under the fireworks, she'd let him stay close. She'd held his hand all evening. She'd smiled—shy, fleeting, but real—whenever he kissed her temple or stole a soft peck from her lips.

It could have been the beginning
...their beginning.

But of course someone had to ruin it.

Cathy.

The moment the sleazy old man she was clinging to approached Vincent and Gabrielle, Vincent felt his stomach churn. When Cathy pulled Gabrielle aside—Gabrielle raising a single unimpressed eyebrow before letting go of Vincent's hand—he knew. His ex would do anything to poison Gabby's mood. And honestly, it wasn't that difficult to do.

He was right.

The women disappeared for ten excruciating minutes before Vincent spotted Gabrielle's silhouette hunched at the bar, drowning herself in tequila on the Terrace's island extension.

Cathy floated back to her sugar daddy, smiling seductively, shooting Vincent a knowing look—the same one she'd used on him once upon a time. The same one she'd used on dozens of other wealthy old men she'd seduced for money and fame.

Vincent felt sick.

He pushed through the crowd, catching Gabrielle's wrist just as she raised another shot to her lips.

"Time for bed, Bella..." he murmured, his voice gentle, even as her expression blazed with anger.

"You've had enough."

"Yes," she snapped, pulling her arm free. "I've had enough." She looked around the bar, eyes glassy with fury, before tossing the shot back.

"Whatever she said—"

"Whatever she said," Gabrielle cut him off, her voice unsteady, "isn't surprising anymore." She tried to stand, swaying dangerously in her heels.

"I'm taking you back to the suite," he said, pulling her against him until her body pressed along his.

"Leave me alone..." she whispered weakly.

He shook his head. "Not in a million years." He kissed her forehead before guiding her toward the exit, leaving the crowd and Cathy far behind.

As they moved through the grand corridor, he felt her grow weaker, her legs giving way. He sighed softly, sweeping an arm behind her knees and lifting her against his chest.

"You're adorable when you're asleep," he murmured, kissing her forehead. "But you're a horrible drinker, Bella."

He pushed open the suite door, carried her to the bed, and carefully laid her down. He slipped off her heels, then unzipped her gown, sliding it away and leaving her in her delicate lingerie. He turned away quickly, giving her privacy even as she stirred, hugging herself, eyes fluttering open with a frown.

"Do you wish she were me...?" she asked suddenly.

He froze. Anger flared hot in his chest.

"Do you wish she never followed her dreams and stayed?"