Chapter 4 - THE GLASS CONSERVATORY
The glass conservatory at the rear of the Costa Estate was a sanctuary of lush tropical greenery, towering palm trees, and rare orchids, illuminated by the golden glow of the setting sun.
Gael stood by a marble fountain, his hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored trousers, his collar unbuttoned at the neck.
When the glass doors opened and Tessa stepped inside, carrying the towering arrangement of white roses, Gael turned around.
His gray eyes locked onto her.
Tessa froze ten feet away. Up close, in the warm amber light of evening, he was even more intimidating. The sheer masculine presence he radiated filled the high-domed room, making it difficult for her to draw breath.
"Set them on the marble table, Ms. Reed," Gael said, his voice low and smooth as silk.
Tessa walked carefully to the center table and set the heavy vase down, her hands shaking so much a few white petals fell onto the polished floor.
"Mr. Costa," she began, holding her breath. "The money you gave me last night... the thirty thousand dollars..."
"Was a tip," Gael interrupted calmly, stepping toward her. "For efficient service."
"It was too much," Tessa said, standing her ground despite the urge to retreat. "I can't accept charity from a man who... who has armed guards pointing guns at people in his office."
Gael stopped three feet away from her. He looked down at her eyes, noticing the dark circles had slightly faded, though she still looked exhausted.
"It wasn't charity," Gael said softly. "It was a down payment."
Tessa frowned. "A down payment for what?"
"For your time," Gael answered. "I want to hire you as my personal florist. You will no longer work at the diner. You will no longer clean offices at midnight. You will work exclusively for me, arranging flowers for my properties."
Tessa stared at him in utter disbelief. "Are you insane? I'm an assistant florist! I don't know how to decorate mansions!"
"I don't care about the flowers, Tessa," Gael stepped closer, closing the distance between them until he was standing merely inches away.
The proximity was suffocating. Tessa could smell his cedar cologne, feel the immense heat radiating off his body.
"Then why are you doing this?" she whispered, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.
Gael slowly lifted his right hand.
Tessa braced herself, expecting him to grab her, to hurt her, to demonstrate the violence she knew resided beneath his expensive clothes.
Instead, Gael did something that shook her to her very core.
He hovered his bare palm half an inch away from her cheek, his fingers trembling slightly. His eyes were wide, filled with a raw, vulnerable hunger that looked entirely alien on a face built for war.
"Because," Gael whispered, his voice cracking with a rare, terrifying honesty, "I haven't slept a full hour in ten years. And last night, when you laid your head on my chest... I slept for twenty minutes without pain."
Tessa’s breath caught in her throat. "What... what are you talking about?"
"Touch my arm, Tessa," Gael commanded softly, his eyes locked onto hers. "Touch my arm and see what happens."
Tessa hesitated. Slowly, timidly, she lifted her small, rough hand. She reached out and pressed her fingers against his dark wool sleeve, right over his forearm.
Gael closed his eyes.
A long, shuddering exhale escaped his lips. His shoulders dropped three inches. The rigid, lethal tension that permanently locked his frame dissolved instantly into pure, unadulterated peace.
Tessa stared at her own hand on his arm, feeling the rock-hard muscle relax beneath her touch.
May you like
"You..." she breathed, realization dawning on her. "You don't like being touched."
"I hate it," Gael opened his eyes, looking down at her with a dark, consuming devotion. "Every human touch feels like liquid fire on my skin. Except yours."
