Chapter 6 #2
“By profiting off my work? That’s why you did it, right? So you’d have the gallery? So all those LaBete paintings would skyrocket in value? How does it feel, sweetheart, rolling around in money wet with my blood?”
“Don’t you dare say that.” My voice is low, heavy with fury and hurt.
“That gallery was our dream,” I whisper.
“And half of the funds we get from your originals go to fund art scholarships. The rest supports LaBete’s legacy and keeps the gallery running.
So don’t you dare tell me that I dishonored our dream.
I’ve been living it every day. Some days it’s the only thing that keeps me going. The only thing I have left of you.”
For a moment, I think his eyes soften, but I change my mind when he says—his voice cold and rough—“hard to hold onto something like that if you destroy the lynchpin.”
I wrap my arms around myself, hating that I feel small. “You’re talented—you are. I’ve always known that. “But I guess now’s the first time I’m learning that you’re an asshole, too. And a stupid, disloyal one at that.”
His eyes narrow, and I look down. My temper’s running the show at the moment, but the adrenaline’s going to slow down, and I’m going to be a blubbering mess soon.
I really don’t want him to see me that way.
I really don’t want to see him at all. Not now.
Maybe never, I think as a hand seems to tighten around my heart.
“The truth is that you and your father tried to kill me.”
I’ve scooted away, but he’s at my side in two long strides. He grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. His grip is hard, just short of painful. “The truth is that you knew about Aspen—my cabin, my private retreat, the place no one else knew about.”
“The address was in my book,” I tell him. “The address book you made me with the LaBete cover. My father could have found it. You know he used to snoop in my room.”
“Convenient,” he says. “Too convenient. The truth is that you and your father sent a team that ambushed me and left me for dead. The truth is, you’re about to marry another man. And the biggest truth is that I will have my revenge.”
“I never told anyone about the Aspen cabin. Only Leo, when I couldn’t get in touch with you. You were late coming back, and I was scared something had happened, and he went, and he’s the one who found the cabin burned. Who arranged a jet for me so I was there with him.
We searched before the police did. We found your teeth and your ring and your blood.
I just shake my head, then wipe away a tear and blink furiously to hold back more. “I died that day, too,” I whisper.
“You should have,” he says, his grip firm on my arm.
I try to pull away, but his hand tightens. “I swear on my life, Gabriel, I didn’t hurt you. I would never hurt you. Every day, I prayed that the police were wrong. That you survived somehow.
But then I had to face that you didn’t. I finally let myself believe it a year ago. I thought letting go of you would be a comfort.” I look at him through tear-filled eyes. “It wasn’t. But having you back?” I whisper as a tear trails down my cheek. “Well, I guess that won’t be a comfort either.”
He looks pointedly at my engagement ring. “Do not even try to play those games with me.” His voice is low and smooth and as sharp as a knife.
I roll my shoulders back, anger winning over fear. “Don’t you dare go there. You were dead, and I wanted a way out from under my father’s thumb. I marry a friend, I get the casino.”
“Just more proof that you’re a manipulative bitch.”
“You know what, Gabriel? Fuck you. You want to think the worst of me, fine. Do it. Hate me as much as you want, but you’re the fool in this story. I am sorry—so damn sorry—about what happened to you. But it happened to me, too.”
I wipe away the stupid tears that have decided to flow again.
“I’ve dreamed about this day. Literally dreamed about you somehow coming back to me.
And here you are. It should be the happiest day of both our lives.
But now, all I can do is look back on all those nights I spent wishing you were alive and beside me, and all I can think is what a fucking waste of time. ”
I lift my chin and face him dead on. “I’m leaving now. I assume there’s a valet outside who can call me a cab?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he moves closer, slow and predatory. “You know what the cruelest part is?” He comes right up to me, so close I can feel his breath stir the hair at my temple. “I still want you. After everything you did. After everything you took from me. I still fucking want you.”
My breath catches.
“Five years of hating you.” His hand comes up, fingers brushing along the side of my neck. The touch is feather-light, almost tender, and it makes my whole body shiver. “Five years of dreaming about you. Remembering what you taste like. What you sound like when you come. How you feel beneath me.”
“Gabriel—”
“I told myself it was over. That I’d burned it out of me along with everything else.
But when I saw the engagement announcement in the paper, and then when I saw that ring on your finger tonight…
” He trails off, his fingers tracing down my throat, over my collarbone, coming to rest just above my heart.
“I wanted to destroy you. And I wanted to devour you, too. I still don’t know which one I want more.
But I do know this—you aren’t his. You won’t ever be his.