Chapter 6 The Promise
The Promise
Naomi
After cleaning ourselves up as much as possible, Gabriel guides me inside the basement of the church through a back door I never knew existed. At this point, I should just ditch my panties. They’re a complete sopping mess.
The door leads to a maze of hallways, one which he picks as if he's been down in the basement of this church before.
"It smells like my grandmama down here," I say, recognizing the classic scent of homemade creole cooking—onions, garlic, bay leaves, and something rich and meaty simmering.
"That's the after-wedding meal you smell. The kitchen is down here."
"So, where are you taking me?"
"Just wait."
At the end of one of the corridors is a space the size of an average living room. It's a chapel, complete with intricate religious paintings and hand-carved wooden benches that look like they've witnessed decades of private prayers and confessions.
"What exactly is this? A church within a church?"
"It's a chapel reserved for certain members to meet with Father Dupre privately."
"Certain members?" I raise an eyebrow, wondering what dubious goings-on have occurred down here over the years.
Gabriel stands in the front of the room at the altar, and when he turns to face me, his expression is unreadable, but his dark eyes burn with something fierce.
My heart stutters.
"What's going on?" My voice comes out breathy, barely above a whisper. "What are you doing?"
He takes a step closer. "The crucial thing you asked for is what I'm doing."
My pulse flutters wildly when he reaches into his pocket, and for the first time, I notice the slightest tremble in his fingers. Gabriel—the boy who was once bigger than life to me and then my greatest enemy—looks nervous.
I swallow hard.
He exhales, then lifts something between us.
An unadorned gold band. Understated and worn from time, but there's a quiet beauty to it. Simple. Inscribed with something along the inner rim that I can't quite make out from this distance.
I don't even realize I'm holding my breath until he speaks again.
"This isn't an over-the-top diamond ring like most guys would buy, and I can definitely get you one later, but this antique ring belonged to my Grandmama," he says, his voice rough, thick with something I don't think I've ever heard from him before.
Genuine emotion. "I loved her fiercely, and out of all of her grandchildren, she gave this to me before she passed.
Told me to keep it until I found a woman worth handing it down to. "
His thumb skims the inside of my wrist, a slow, deliberate stroke that sends a shiver racing up my spine.
"You're that woman, Naomi."
A sharp gasp claws at my throat.
He said my name.
My new name.
I shake my head, a tear spilling free before I can stop it. "Gabriel..."
He tightens his grip on my wrist, the warmth of his touch grounding me as his next words settle into my bones.
"I was never supposed to fall in love with you." A wry, self-deprecating smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "But I did a very long time ago. And I don't want to spend another day pretending that I don't or that I can live without you."
He sinks to one knee, right there in the dimly lit chapel, framed by the flickering glow of a plethora of battery-lit candles.
"I've been waiting for you to come home so I could tell you.
" His lips curve. "And while I had a hand in making that happen a little faster than it should, it was always going to happen.
One way or another, you were going to come back to New Orleans.
You were going to come back to me because I am where you belong. "
A shaky breath escapes me.
I had no idea Gabriel had harbored these kinds of feelings for me all these years. He was my brother's rival who had gorgeous girls dropping their panties at any given moment. Why would he even pay me any attention?
"Marry me." He slides his thumb over the ring, a reverence in the way he holds it. "I know you probably don't feel the same, but love will come in time. Wear this, and I promise you that I will never allow your father or anyone else to bully you again, or I'll die trying."
The world slows, the weight of his words wrapping around me like a vow all on their own.
I don't know how long I stand there, heart hammering, breath shallow, before I whisper the only word that matters.
"Okay."
"Okay?" he parrots back hopefully.
"Yes."
The moment the word leaves my lips, Gabriel surges forward, crushing me against him, and kisses me like he's branding the promise into my soul.
And maybe, just maybe, he is.
The moment our ceremony ends, I barely have time to let the weight of what just happened sink in before we face my father.
Marc Pierre Fabre.
He watches us with the stillness of a predator, the candlelight casting ominous shadows across his sharp features.
His tailored suit is as crisp as ever, his expression unreadable in that way that's always made me nervous.
Around him, men in suits—his men—stand like silent sentinels, waiting. Watching.
So does Nicole, my stepbrother, and the rest of our families... from a distance.
Gabriel, my new husband, doesn't flinch.
His grip on my waist is firm, his presence solid as stone beside me.
"Daddy." My voice is steady despite the storm swirling inside me.
His gaze flicks to me, then back to Gabriel. A beat of silence stretches between them, thick and suffocating, before he speaks.
"You were over an hour late for your own wedding. Did you try to run again, Josephine?" His voice is smooth, but beneath it lies an edge honed from decades of command. "I told you there would be consequences if you did."
A chill runs down my spine, but Gabriel only tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"With all due respect, sir, Naomi is here, and she married me. No consequences are necessary."
The room stills.
The men shift slightly, fingers twitching toward hidden weapons.
"Oh, it's Naomi now, is it?" My father lets out a low chuckle that doesn't reach his eyes. "You marry my daughter and think you can challenge me now?" His cold gaze sweeps over Gabriel.
"This isn't a challenge, sir. These are facts. She's my wife now. Naomi LaRoche. And the debt is paid."
I flinch at the coolness of Gabriel's tone, but I shouldn't overreact. I know this isn't just a blood debt to him. I am much more. He said his true vows to me downstairs in the chapel, and I believed them.
"Do you know how many have stood before me with that same defiance?" My father smiles. It's not a pleasant one. "Ask your father how that worked out for him."
Gabriel doesn't blink.
The tension is a razor's edge, sharp enough to bleed.
My heart is a war drum hammering against my ribs.
"I don't want a problem with you," Gabriel says evenly. "But Naomi is my wife now." His hand tightens around mine. "And my responsibility. Any consequences she faces for some perceived slight to you are now mine to bear."
Another pause. Then—
"Tell me something, Gabriel." My father steps closer, his voice lowering. "Did you fuck around and fall in love with my daughter?"
Gabriel doesn't hesitate. "Guilty as charged."
My breath catches.
Something flickers in my father's eyes, gone before I can name it.
Then, finally, he nods. "Then you'll protect her. No matter what."
Gabriel's jaw tightens. "With my life."
Silence falls.
My father studies him for another agonizing second before, finally, he steps back. The men around him relax ever so slightly, though their watchful gazes remain.
"You remind me a lot of your grandmother. She was a tough old bird. Always trying to put a gris-gris on somebody." A curse.
My father adjusts his cufflinks, then sighs. "Well, then, it seems a long-standing debt has been paid, and I have a new son-in-law."
The words are as much a warning as they are an acceptance.
Gabriel inclines his head, respectful but unyielding. "Looks that way."
My father's lips curve, something dark and knowing flashing across his face.
"Bienvenue dans la famille." Welcome to the family.
And just like that, we've walked through the fire.
But I know this is only the beginning.