Chapter 20

Abby

I avoided Cohen for two days, keeping to myself, eating in my room while he ate with Bella and Gregory. I didn’t have the stomach to fake it with them anymore and I couldn’t take the intensity of Cohen’s gaze, which made me feel hot and cold all over, filled with desire and fury at the same time. There was no way I could get over the things that he had said to me about Paul. He had accused me of manipulating the old man, whom I had come to care for deeply in my time at the mansion.

I lay in bed one morning just after checking on Paul, who was still asleep. As usual, I pulled out my mother’s journal, read from it, and let my heart be carried away in her love and in her voice. I had never ached for her so much as I did in that moment, wishing she was still alive, that I had someone—anyone—to talk to about what was going on with Cohen, how I felt like I had been shattered by his words.

I stirred in my bed when I heard the door open to Paul’s room next door, sitting up in bed. I listened for Cohen’s voice, but instead I heard the hushed sound of Bella’s soft tones in the other room.

“Goddamn it, he’s sleeping again. Doesn’t this asshole ever wake up?”

“He’ll be dead soon,” I heard Gregory say. My whole body tensed up with anger but I held still, continued to listen to them speak.

“How are we going to convince him to put you in his will if we can’t even speak to him?” Bella asked. “What do we do now?”

“We have other options, Bella. Calm down. And the old man will wake up at some point—Cohen and the nurse both seem to be in love with him. I’m sure he like, talks or something sometimes. Maybe he’s funny.”

“I hope he’s funny,” Bella said. “Otherwise this feels like a waste of time. He’s never going to change the will for us.”

“He will when I show him the picture of me and mom,” Gregory said. “The guy is like half-brain-dead with Alzheimer’s. He doesn’t know his ass from his head. He’ll take one look at the photo and make up some crazy fake memories, and he’ll feel so guilty for abandoning his family that he’ll put me in the will over Cohen, easy. I know guys like this. We’ve—”

I burst through the door then, unable to take anymore.

“Get out,” I snarled at them as they winced back away from me, away from where I approached Paul’s bed, standing next to him protectively. “Get out of here. You need to go.”

“We’re guests of Cohen’s. Not you,” Bella said coldly. I raised my eyebrows at her.

“Do you want to try me, Bella? Either one of you?” I asked. “See what happens if you try to stay. I dare you.”

Bella’s eyes narrowed, and Gregory almost looked scared. I could feel the ferocity in my voice, filled with anger and hatred at the sight of them.

“Get out of here,” I said to them. Paul stirred then, opening his eyes.

“Abby—”

“Dad!” Gregory said, but I was already shoving him out the door. I slammed it and locked it in his face, then went and did the same in my own room. I listened hard, heard Gregory nearly shouting at Bella on the other side of the door.

“We gotta get out of here, Bell,” he said.

“That bitch isn’t going to stop us,” Bella said, and I heard her knocking on the door. I tensed, but then heard Gregory’s voice again.

“We’ll figure something else out. I got a guy. Let’s go before she calls the fucking cops, Bella,” he said. There was a pause and I thought she was going to knock again or burst through the door in her anger, but I heard her huff on the other side, then stomp away in anger. A few moments later, I heard the front door slam shut. I went outside to see that it was hanging open, one of the hinges broken in half. Outside, Bella and Gregory were getting into their car. I watched as they drove away, an angry look on Bella’s face.

I turned to Paul, who was nearly gasping for breath in his confusion, chest wheezing.

“Paul,” I said softly, fumbling for his medicine, injecting it into the tube that ran into his arm. After a moment, his chest settled down, and I was filled with relief when he opened his eyes to look at me tiredly.

“Who was that?” he asked. “Who was that man?”

“Nobody, Paul,” I said to him, taking his hand. “He’s gone now. OK? I got rid of him.”

“OK,” the old man said weakly, squeezing my hand. He let go of it, coughing. “I’m—sleeping now.”

“OK,” I said to him, patting him on the hand before I pulled away. I left his room, nearly jumping out of my skin when I saw Cohen on the other side of the door. I wrinkled my nose in disgust at him.

“Were you listening to my conversation again?” I asked him hotly.

“No,” he said, staring into my eyes, lust and rage written all over his features, the way his eyes were half-lidded and narrowed at me. “I just got here. What’s going on with the door?”

I crossed my arms over my chest, walking away from Paul’s doorway so that I didn’t wake him with my voice.

“I kicked Bella and Gregory out,” I said to him.

“You did what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You kicked them out?”

“Yes,” I said. “I had no choice. They were—”

“You do realize that this isn’t your house, right?” he asked.

“Yes, Cohen, I—”

“Mr. Ashton,” he said through gritted teeth. I stared at him, feeling a shiver run down my spine at the command in his tone.

“Mr. Ashton,” I said. “You need to let me explain.”

“Is there an explanation? Other than the fact that you just can’t seem to behave yourself?”

“Yes,” I said, glaring up at him, trying desperately not to notice the way he was looking at my lips, occasionally glancing down to the tops of my breasts and my bare shoulders. The desire radiated off of him, pulling me toward him, but I planted my feet and refused to give in.

“So tell me,” he growled. I shivered again, taking a step back from him. He had come close to me, and was doing so again, stalking forward almost like a predator until I was backed against the wall. I shivered when his body touched mine, accepting him automatically, molding my body to his as he pinned me in with his hands on either side of my body.

“I—they were—” I said, stumbling over my words as his lips brushed over my jaw, up to my ear. His cock was hard, pressed against me. I found myself rubbing against him, wanting it, my pussy wet and swollen. I felt him smile, his lips against my skin as he planted a hot, open-mouthed kiss on my neck.

“Something wrong?” he asked. “Cat got your tongue, Gabriella?”

“Cohen—”

He nipped at my neck, sinking his teeth into it slightly.

“Mr. Ashton. My friends call me Cohen. You and I are not friends.”

“Mr. Ashton,” I breathed, trying to steady my heartbeat. “I want you to get away from me.”

He stepped back immediately, pulling his hands away, his eyes on my face.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I’m not going to let you touch me ever again,” I said to him. “Ever.”

“No matter how bad you want it?” he asked. “What if you want it even worse than you do now? Could you bear that?”

I glared at him, but didn’t say anything. He chuckled.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’m finished.”

“Are you firing me?” I asked him, a sinking feeling in my chest. The last thing that I wanted to do was leave Paul when he was sick.

“No,” he said. “You should stay for Paul. I just mean that I’m finished with you.”

“Good,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. He gave me one last scathing look before he left me standing there outside of Paul’s door.