21. Gabriel
Gabriel
Alexis’s words wash over me, and it takes a moment for them to fully sink in. Then the anger hits.
Jonathan fucking Beaumont. That controlling bastard.
It’s been a long, long time since I was this furious about anything. I stare at the faint bruises forming on Alexis’s arm, their purplish hue stark against her pale skin. She’s trying to cover it with her hand, to pretend it doesn’t matter, but I can’t unsee it.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she tells me hurriedly, her voice small. “It’s—”
I don’t let her finish. I throw my napkin down on the table and get to my feet. “Excuse me for a moment.”
I turn on my heel and stride back toward the host’s stand, toward the elevators. I hear the chair scrape against the floor as Alexis scrambles after me.
“It’s okay,” she says in a rush. “It’s n-not a big deal. I swear. You d-don’t have to—”
I don’t stop or even hesitate. There’s something primal urging me on, a protective rage simmering in my chest that won’t settle.
Jonathan is waiting by the elevator banks, one eye on his watch, an air of impatience about him. The sight of him fuels my anger, the flames burning hotter.
I march straight up to him. “Jonathan.”
He glances up as I approach, his expression morphing into a pleasant smile. That only pisses me off more. This man puts on a good face for people he wants to do business with, but can’t be bothered to treat his own daughter with respect.
“Gabriel,” he says, extending a hand for me to shake. “What a nice surprise.”
I don’t take his hand. Instead, I step up to him, my voice cold and deliberate. “Not from my perspective.”
His smile falters, confusion flitting through his eyes. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes. There is.” An image flashes through my mind of the marks on Alexis’s arm, the frightened look on her face, and my resolve hardens. “We need to have a conversation about how you treat my wife.”
Jonathan’s mouth tightens for a second, but then his expression smooths into something cool and dismissive. “Whatever issues my daughter invented to stir up drama, you needn’t concern yourself—”
“She didn’t invent anything,” I interrupt coldly. “I saw the evidence of your confrontation myself, and it’s clear to me that you, Mr. Beaumont, are an absolute disgrace.”
Behind me, I hear Alexis’s sharp intake of breath. Jonathan snorts, his demeanor dismissive. “You’re overreacting. I barely touched her.”
“If you ever lay a hand on her again, I will make certain you pay for it.”
“Don’t be absurd,” he says, his forehead creased.
“You are a horrific father,” I continue, my tone like ice, “and a pathetic excuse for a man. Alexis deserves far better than the way you’ve treated her. Better than you, period. And as long as she’s my wife, I’ll make sure she gets it.”
A vein pulses at Jonathan’s temple. His cheeks redden with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “You don’t know the first thing about our family,” he snarls, hackles raised like a cornered animal. “So don’t come over here trying to lecture me about—”
“Enough.”
The single word is enough to silence him. He glowers up at me.
“Do you understand what I just said to you?”
Jonathan’s teeth are clenched so hard I can almost hear them grind. His eyes narrow, and he doesn’t answer.
“I asked you a question,” I say, my voice even colder now.
The elevator chimes behind him, the doors sliding open. Jonathan turns toward it, but I shift my stance to block his path subtly.
“Do you understand me, Jonathan?”
“You’ve made your point,” he mutters. “I get it.”
“Good,” I say slowly. “Because this is the last time I’ll have this conversation with you.”
I step out of his way, and he slinks onto the elevator, his shoulders hunched, his pride clearly wounded. The doors close behind him with a little ding.
Tension lingers in my taut muscles as I turn away from the elevators, back toward Alexis. She looks shocked. Her hands are trembling, her eyes wide, fixated on the spot where Jonathan just stood.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she whispers.
I shrug, doing my best to disguise the adrenaline still coursing through me from the confrontation. My body wants to act. To take her in my arms. To hold her, to shield her, to claim her. I can feel the host’s startled gaze on me, though, and manage to restrain myself.
“Yes, I did,” I tell her, my voice still taut, like a stretched wire.
“He d-doesn’t respond well to being called out like that. There… there will be fallout from this.” Her fingers clasp together, her anxiety palpable. “That can’t be good for your business arrangements, and you—”
“Do you think I care about that?”
She blinks up at me, visibly startled. “What?”
I move toward her, my brow furrowing. “Do you think I would put some business deal above my wife’s safety? Do you think I would ever choose your father’s side over yours?”
She licks her lips, hesitating. “I’ve… never really had anyone stand up for me before.”
I press closer to her, close enough that we’re almost touching as she tips her chin up to meet my gaze.
“I can tell,” I murmur. “But that’s over. You have me now.”
Her mouth falls open slightly, and just like that, the tiny, strained thread holding me back snaps.
I close the small gap between us, cupping her jaw with one hand as the other tangles in her hair, and I lean down to kiss her.