Page 16 of Protected By Her Daddy

Gabriel nods. “Your mom is through the worst of the initial detox, but she’s still weak and confused. Give it another few weeks, and you should be able to talk to her on the phone.” He pauses as if weighing his words carefully. “She still has a long way to go, Wren. It’s going to take time, but she’s in good hands.”

“Thanks to you. I can never repay what you’ve done for her. And for me.”

“No repayment necessary.” He offers a smile that could spontaneously combust women’s panties within a ten-mile radius as he sets down covered plates on the table. “Ready for breakfast?”

“Always,” I murmur as I pull up a chair. “Although I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to all this.” I wave a finger as he uncovers the dishes to reveal the usual array of food—fresh fruit, granola, yogurt, scrambled eggs, bacon, and, oh man, sausage and biscuits.

Gabriel chuckles as my stomach growls like a bear waking from hibernation, and the deep, warm sound vibrates deliciously through me. “All the better to heal and regain your strength. You need to fill out a little.”

The penthouse has become more than a place of recovery; it’s become my sanctuary. Living here is surreal. Like any minute, someone will jump out and tell me it’s all a big joke. I’m technically a guest, but this is the safest, happiest place I’ve ever lived.

I moan as I take a tentative bite of the biscuit. It’s flaky, buttery perfection. “This is amazing. If you keep feeding me like this, I’ll be as big as a house in no time.”

Gabriel’s eyes are on my mouth, and when he lifts his eyes to mine, I swear I see hunger burning in their depths that has nothing to do with the food in front of us. He blinks, and it’s gone, making me think I imagined it.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, taking the chair opposite me. “Dr. Sanderson said your shoulder is healing well.”

“Still some soreness if I overdo it, but yeah, it’s feeling good. The physio said I can ditch the sling in another week or so,” I mumble around a strip of crispy bacon.

“That’s progress,” he says, helping himself to scrambled eggs and bacon. “Are you still comfortable in your room? There are other bedrooms if you’d prefer a different view.”

“Are you kidding? Everything works,” I say, gesturing in the direction of my room. “The shower, the lights. Even the toilet flushes. It's nice.”

His laugh rumbles through me again. “Nice?”

“Okay, it’s like living in a five-star hotel, only better because there’s no checkout time looming over my head.”

His deep brown eyes find mine. “I said you can stay as long as you need, Wren. I meant it.”

There it is again. That kindness without strings, or so it seems. Is it bad that I’m still waiting for the hammer to fall?

I add some granola to a bowl, sensing the weight of his gaze on me. Is he studying me? Trying to figure me out?

“Thank you, Gabriel. For, um, for everything,” I say, although it feels inadequate.

“You’re welcome.” His reply is simple but carries a depth that suggests he understands more than I give him credit for.

I know I should push away from this comfort, from this safety net he’s provided. But as I sit here with a full belly and a clear mind for the first time in forever, a part of me whispers seductively, Why not enjoy it while it lasts?

Once I finish eating, Gabriel heads to his office, and I go to my bedroom to do the exercises the physio gave me before getting dressed. It’s amazing how quickly I’ve learned to dress one-handed. I pull on jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, feeling a little more human with every button I fasten. The fabric is soft, a luxurious material I’ve only ever seen in stores but never been able to afford. Gabriel has provided me with so much.

Sliding my arm back into my sling, I grab my phone and pad barefoot to the living room. I get comfortable on the couch and open the reading app on my phone, losing myself in a murder mystery…

“Must be a good book.”

My head pops up as Gabriel’s voice rolls through the doorway. He leans against the frame, casual but still filling all that space.

I blink, checking my phone to see that it’s almost lunchtime. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize the time. This book is amazing. So many plot twists and turns. I think I’ve worked out who the murderer is, and then the author throws another curve ball into the mix.”

His dark brown eyes hold mine. “Ready for some twists and turns with me?”

My mind goes off on a highly inappropriate tangent, imagining our naked bodies on twisted sheets as he turns me inside out. My nipples harden, and I subtly squeeze my thighs together.

“Dr. Sanderson prescribed a daily walk. Fresh air and exercise,” Gabriel adds.

A walk. Right.

I clear my throat, wondering if he can feel the heat from my cheeks across the room. “Um, sure. A walk would be good.”

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