This Crazy Rich Boy - Chapter 105

It’s just a short drive, but it takes Gabriel an enormous amount of will just to reach the Residence. His focus keeps straying from the road; if he’s not careful, he might end up smashed against some truck. He slaps himself in the face a few times; it’s not the usual sleepiness, but the drugs still in his blood, and maybe the remnants of his illness. He would have spent a couple of nights more at the hospital, but he couldn’t stand it. He must see Claire.

Dale is so surprised upon seeing him.

“Uhh, Gabriel sir, is it really you?” Dale says. He even lightly touches Gabriel on the face.

“Of course, it’s me,” Gabriel says.

“But sir, what seems to be the hurry?” Dale points at Gabriel’s clothes. “You’re still wearing hospital clothes, sir. And it’s still a few hours before sunrise.” He hesitates, considering the intensity of Gabriel’s facial expression as he saunters into the lobby. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I can’t be more sure, Dale,” Gabriel says, heading straight to the elevator. “I am totally fine.”

Dale stares at him as he walks away, noting, in mild shock, that his big boss is also bȧrėfoot.

Gabriel presses the elevator buŧŧon with the heel of his palm. He has yet to fully regain his fine motor skills. He feels he’s moving underwater, his arms and feet heavy, his vision as though peering into a tunnel. But he must see Claire. If he sees her, everything will be fine. This stupid illness will shrink away and vanish like a bad dream.

He’s about to knock on Claire’s door when Lucille, Claire’s personal maid, appears out of nowhere, waving a key.

“Sir, she’s still asleep, sir,” Lucille says. “You might interrupt her beauty rest.”

These people are so well-trained, he thinks. “I just need to see her. I won’t even wake her up.”

Lucille looks at him from head to toe, doubting what he just said. After all, a red-blooded man like him trying to enter a lady’s room in the middle of the night “just to see her”? In which planet is that even normal? “But sir, you ȧssigned me to protect Miss Claire. Doesn’t it also mean protecting her from you?”

Jesus, he thinks, Lucille didn’t get the memo. How does he even break it to her? “Lucille, believe me, I am not going to take advantage of her in any way. So if you have the key—if what you have in your hand is, in fact, this door’s key—then please give it to me.”

Lucille hesitates. “Are you sure, sir?”

“You’re the tenth person who asked me tonight if I am sure about my actions. Of course, I’m sure. I couldn’t be more sure. So please hand me that key or I will surely fire you first thing in the morning.”

Lucille grabs Gabriel’s hand, placing the key in his palm. “You should have told me two seconds ago, sir. Here’s the key. Would you like me to open the door for you, sir? I can—”

“I can do it,” he says. “Go ahead, Lucille, continue doing whatever you’re doing elsewhere.”

Yet, Lucille still stands there hesitating.

“I told you,” he says, “this is between me and my fiancée.”

“You mean, your employee, sir?”

“No, I mean, for real,” he says. “We’re officially a real couple, Lucille.”

It takes Lucille a few moments before the meaning of the words sink in. When it does, her eyes go wide. “Oh, my God!” she shrieks. “Oh, my God, are you for real, Gabriel? Err, I mean, sir? Oh, my fuċkɨnġ God!”

“Stop cursing,” he says, trying to stifle his own laughter. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, Lucille, but please move along. Allow me to see my fiancée just for tonight.”

Lucille giggles. Then she theatrically curtsies. “As you wish, sir. But please, no monkey business.”

Gabriel smiles. “No dirty business of any kind.”

After Lucille leaves, Gabriel turns to face the door. He sighs. Suddenly he realizes the inappropriateness of this action—he’s entering Claire’s suite without her permission. But then again, it’s not like he’s going to **** her or anything. He’s just…he just wants to see her.

As he enters the suite, he tries hard not to make a sound. Somehow he feels like an intruder. The living area is neat and clean, like nobody has been home. He tiptoes toward the bedroom. On the way, he catches a glance of the broken iPhone on the coffee table—he cringes at the sight of it, how it’s almost pulverized as though a hulking giant stomped on it. It didn’t even last twenty-four hours, he thinks, and smiles, mainly because of the memory of seeing her in the Jacuzzi during that FaceTime session. It seems like a long time ago.

He enters the bedroom and there she is. She’s still in character as Bella Xavier, still wearing that blond wig. She’s still wearing her office clothes, or at least the fashionable office outfit Cassandra makes her wear, carefully chosen every single day. He makes a mental note of giving Cassandra a promotion or a raise, she deserves it.

He stands at the foot of the bed, just watching her sleep. He feels as though he hasn’t seen her in a very long time. He’s so hungry, thirsty for the sight of her. That cute mouth, that cute nose, those eyes that make her seem so innocent and so naughty at the same time. He sighs; just days ago, she was just standing at the entrance of his office tower. What were the chances that she could have chosen not to proceed in entering it—and thereby entering his life—and leaving him with the same shitty little life as before? She could have left. She could have proceeded to the next company in her list. He could not have known her. Now she’s here. Standing here by the foot of her bed, Gabriel feels like he has come home. Still in his hospital clothes, he climbs on it, slipping in between the covers. She doesn’t even budge; she’s still deep in her slumber. At a certain point, she giggles in her sleep, and he wonders what she could be dreaming right now. He hopes it’s about him, about them.

He lies there, right beside her, and as he gazes at the ceiling, he realizes how creepy this must be. This should be standard stalker behavior, right? Except he won’t be stalking because she would have welcomed it if she had known. But still. When she wakes up in the morning and finds him there, she would scream her lungs out—or would she, if she finds out it’s him? Ah, stop thinking, Gabriel. Just fuċkɨnġ stop. You’ve been overthinking all your life, you just…just try to experience things as they happen. And right now, this is heaven—he takes a deep breath, his head swimming in her sweet womanly scent, and it takes him a heroic amount of self-control to not let this go overboard and become sėxuȧŀ. Oh, Claire, he thinks. I’m here. But take your sweet time. Dream your sweet dreams. Dream of me. When you wake up…when you wake up…

Gabriel doesn’t finish the thought as his exhaustion, finally, overtakes him.

And as he expected, a few hours later, he is jolted to high-pitched wakefulness—by the woman screaming beside him.