Gabriel West: Still The One. Fiona Brand
stepped around Harrison and Richard. His fingers curled around the grip of the bag. “I’ll take that.”
Her gaze locked with his, shooting green fire. He logged her almost imperceptible flinch—as if the emotion, and the light, had hurt—felt her internal battle. Tyler had always been as independent and solitary as a cat despite the satin cushion of the Laines’ wealth, and all the company that that money attracted.
Her fingers remained locked around the grip.
“Let me.”
He felt the moment when she gave in, and grimly acknowledged that this was how it was going to be. He’d always known trying to get Tyler back would be tough—he just hadn’t realized how tough.
For the past few days, he’d made it his business to be where she was around the apartment complex whenever possible. It hadn’t been easy because she’d been working long hours, and each time she’d simply walked past him, barely making eye contact. The only break he’d had had been when he’d stepped out of the elevator while she was being attacked.
Right now, Tyler needed his help, and he was ruthlessly using every advantage that came his way, but she was making it more than clear that while she did need help, she didn’t need him.
Brilliant light flashed through the room, followed by the motorized whirr of a camera.
West caught a glimpse of a dark-clad shoulder as the photographer slid through the door, and cursed beneath his breath. He made eye contact with Cornell, who was looking pissed. “When I walked through reception there were reporters camped there, plus a TV crew.”
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