Chapter 28 Gabriel
Gabriel
Isat at jets little bar, trading champagne for whiskey, watching Sophia in the bars mirrored backing.
Her eyes were closed, earbuds in. She looked relaxed, but I knew better.
She was anxious about the unknown. Soon, she’d be even more frightened.
If not during the plane's descent, then when we stood at the front door of the mansion. There was no avoiding it; she would have to meet my father, and he wouldn’t like her.
The only grace she might receive would be for being the reason I returned, but even that wouldn’t be enough.
I had to find a purpose for her fast, or the women would resent her too.
I raised the glass to my lips, letting the burning whiskey coat my tongue.
I had tried to live a normal life, but the grass was not greener on the other side; There was no grass at all, the other side was a boring, barren wasteland. But I found flower growing there, somehow. A small delicate thing I plucked out of curiosity. Now I had to be that flowers thorns.
I set the glass down and walked over to her, tapping her on the shoulder.
“Okay, Sophia, let's see what you've got in your suitcase.” She looked a little unsure of herself as she opened her bag, shuffling through wrinkled clothes. It became obvious she didn’t have anything she could confidently wear.
“What is your dress size?”
She sipped her drink, giving me a sideways glance.
“Don’t you know not to ask a lady that?”
“I thought the forbidden question was cup size.”
She rolled her eyes. “I'm not too sure, actually. Why do you ask?”
“We need to get you something else to wear. Don’t get me wrong, I like your outfits, but they aren’t suitable.
” I waved over a flight attendant in my family’s employ, who promptly strolled over.
“Take her measurements and have a few options lined up for her when we land.” The man nodded, gesturing for Sophia to follow him.
She downed her champagne and stood nervously, then disappeared from view.
Damien wasted no time sliding into her seat.
“I was hoping for a moment alone.” I said.
“Sick of her already? Gabriel, we haven't even landed. Are you sure Sophia is who you want to introduce to our father? To the family?”
“Why wouldn’t she be?” I replied, my tone intentionally casual.
“She’ll stick out like a sore thumb,” he said, adjusting his shirt cuffs—a sure sign he was also uncomfortable. “They won’t care if she’s the one who brought you back if she can’t even fit into the surface appearances of our world.”
I didn’t like his insinuation but couldn’t deny the seed of truth in it. Sophia would be a fish out of water. She had spirit, though; her willingness to step onto this plane without knowing much about the destination was proof of that. “I'm already taking care of it.”
As if on cue, Sophia returned. Her eyes darted between me and Damien, and even in the jet’s low light, I could see the apprehension in them.
“Did I miss something important?” she asked.
Damien chuckled, his laugh strikingly similar to our father's—hollow and devoid of warmth. “Oh, you have no idea.” He rose from his seat and disappeared down the corridor, leaving an ominous silence in his wake.
Sophia raised an eyebrow at me, waiting for an explanation. But I said nothing. Instead, I pulled her onto my lap, wrapping my arm around her waist. Her body relaxed against me.
“So… what’s waiting for us when we land?” she asked quietly, her voice steady, though still laced with fear.
“Just be yourself, but don’t speak to my father out of turn. Let him speak first.” There was no sense in sugarcoating it. He was the Don.
“Okay, now I’m scared.”
“Don’t be; it’s just an expression of reverence.”
“And what if I mess up?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
I tightened my arms around her, pulling her closer. “You won’t.” I said, trying to sound as confident as possible.
“But what if I do?” She persisted, turning in my arms to look at me.
“Then we deal with it,” I reassured her, brushing my thumb against her cheekbone. “Nothing serious will come of it. There are just rules you aren’t used to.”
A sharp “ding” from the plane’s intercom system ended the conversation. The captain announced we would be landing soon.
“That was fast,” she said as she cleared her throat, stood up from my lap, and returned to her seat, reaching for her champagne.
“Yeah, time flies,” I replied, watching as she shakily poured herself more champagne.
“Pour me one too.”
“How far is the drive once we land?” She asked while filling my glass.
“There is no drive. We have an airstrip.” Her eyes went wide. “Look out your window. There.” I pointed. On the hilltop, surrounded by meadows and forests, was my home—the heart of what would one day be my Empire.
“It’s amazing,” she said, unable to look away.
“Excuse me, miss,” the flight attendant said, getting her attention.
She turned toward him slowly. “Yes?”
“You will have a selection of dresses to choose from when we land. Would you like to see some pictures of the options?”
“Yes, that would be nice, thank you.” I smirked. If this interaction was any indication of how she would behave when we land, she would be fine. The plane began to descend.
She smiled. “I’m feeling pretty good about this, I think.” I smiled back, glad the alcohol was kicking in for her. I finished my glass and poured us another.
“Just keep that feeling going,” I said with a smirk, easing back in my seat.
She nodded and turned her attention back to the window, her fingers playing with the stem of her champagne glass.
The mansion was becoming clearer as we descended, sprawling gardens and acres of woodland coming into view.
The mansion itself was vast and imposing, an architectural beauty that held a lifetime of memories and secrets.
As our wheels met solid ground on the airstrip, concealed by trees and forest, she turned to me again. “Here we go,” she said, putting on the face she would wear.
“Here we go,” I replied. We were both apprehensive about different things, but she didn’t need to know I was anything other than calm and composed.
The plane came to a stop, and we waited in silence.
The flight attendant returned with the dress she picked—a deep, sleek red dress that would suit her well.
She held it with an almost sentimental grace.
She stood up and stared into the mirror by the bar, holding the red dress against her body, then turned toward me with excited eyes.
“I’m going to change,” she said, clutching the fabric. She disappeared down the corridor as I finished my drink.
“Yes, yes you are.”