Chapter fifty-one


Abbey couldn’t raise her eyes as she straightened her dress and tucked a few loose curls back into the comb in her hair.  Sloan leaned against the pedestal sink waiting patiently for Abbey to get herself back into order.  Abbey discreetly wrapped the scraps of fabric that once were her panties into a paper towel and dropped them in the trash.  She forced a weak smile as she passed through the door Sloan held open for her.

Abbey couldn’t look at Sloan.  She felt humiliated.  She threw herself at him begging him to have sex with her in a public restroom.  What could Sloan possibly think of her now?  Abbey was silently thankful that no one walked in while they were in there.

Sloan leaned down to Abbey as she carefully slid back into the booth.  He pressed his lips to her ear so he could be heard over the music.  “I see my associates.  I will be back shortly.”

Abbey nodded, her eyes fixed on the table top before her.  She watched Sloan as he disappeared into the crowd.  She sighed.  Why did she let her insecurities get the better of her?  She nursed her glass of wine, watching the crimson liquid vibrate to the beat of the music.  She looked up as she felt the booth seat shift.

“Are you alright, Abigail?” Gordon asked, his aged face filled with concern.

Abbey thought for a moment.  “Actually, I’m not feeling so great, Gordon.  Could you take me home?”

“Of course.”

Gordon offered his hand as Abbey slid from the plastic covered booth seat.  Abbey followed Gordon up the steel stairs, her clicking heels on the metal unbelievably audible over the noise of the club.  They stood quietly outside the door as they waited for the valet to return with the Hummer.

Abbey waited until they had pulled away from the club before she made her next request.

“Gordon?” she asked timidly.

“Yes, lass?”

“Could you take me to my apartment?”

The look Gordon shot her in the rear view mirror was light years past concern.  “I thought you wanted to go to the penthouse.”

“I really want to go home.  My home.  My apartment.  I think I would feel better there.”

Gordon stared at her for a moment more.  “Very well.  As you wish.”

Abbey contently settled back into the leather seat.  Gordon silently fumed as he drove.  Sloan was going to have to answer for whatever happened between himself and the lass in the bathroom.  And fast.


About triciaandersen

I am the author and illustrator of the children's book "The Peculiar Princess". I am also the author of two adult fantasy romance novels, "The Sorceress of Savon" and "The Woodcutter King of Muladin". Along with being an author I am married to a wonderful guy and have three beautiful children. I coach youth track and field, sew and chase my children around to their various activities.

Posted on July 3, 2012, in author, books, fiction, novel, romance, story, Uncategorized, writing. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. I like the shortness of the scene. I’m guessing Gordon is Scottish right?

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