43. Alexis #2
“We’re returning to the offer from Travis and his family,” my mother says flatly. “You ought to be grateful that he’s still willing to marry you, even after your divorce with Gabriel.”
I feel the room tilt slightly, my pulse hammering in my temples. No. This can’t be happening. The dust hasn’t even settled, and already, my parents are trying to arrange a new marriage for me, like I’m some discarded item being reshelved.
And to Travis, of all people. His smile is sharp, predatory.
“I don’t mind if you’ve already had a bit of experience being married,” he says, in what’s probably supposed to be a genial tone. “No skin off my nose.”
I stare at him, my stomach twisting—whether from nausea or fear, I can’t tell. I open my mouth, then close it, searching desperately for the words to protest.
Before I can say anything, before I can defend myself, someone speaks from behind me.
“What the hell is going on here?”
I turn, startled. The sound of that voice—Gabriel’s voice—drives my heart into a wild rhythm.
I grip the arms of the chair to steady myself as he approaches, marching down the hallway toward the open office door.
Gabriel doesn’t pause as Debra rises hurriedly from her desk and approaches him.
He holds up a hand and strides past her, storming into my father’s office like a tempest.
“I warned you,” he growls, his gaze fixed on Travis. “I warned you what would happen if you didn’t leave Alexis alone. So what the fuck is this?”
Travis smirks. His handsome face scrunches unpleasantly with the expression, as if it’s not natural on his features. “I’m afraid you’re not welcome here. This is between myself and the Beaumonts.”
“Like hell it is.”
“Mr. Thorne.” My father puffs his chest out, visibly affronted. “Get out of my office, this instant, or I’ll be forced to call security.”
Gabriel ignores him completely. He jabs an accusing finger toward Travis. “You’re a fucking weasel,” he snarls, taking a step closer, his arms taut with barely restrained fury. “A scheming little—”
“Gabriel,” Travis interrupts, “I understand that this must be difficult for you, but it’s none of your concern what Alexis chooses to—”
“Chooses?” Gabriel barks a laugh. “Oh, please.”
“Mr. Thorne,” my father snaps. His hand hovers over the phone on his desk, and I rise halfway out of my chair. I’m not sure what I’m hoping to accomplish, if I think I’m going to stop him from making the call, but my mother shoots me a vicious stare, and I sink back down.
Gabriel still doesn’t acknowledge my father. All of his attention is fixed upon Travis. “This wasn’t part of your terms.”
Terms? What the hell is he talking about?
Travis’s smirk shrinks by a degree. He rolls his shoulders as if to firm up his stance, then retorts, “You had no right to know about it, quite frankly. You’re out of the picture.”
“She is not some object you get to—”
“There’s no need for these theatrics,” Travis says coldly. “Just go, please. You’re trespassing. These are Vérité’s offices.”
“I’m on the damn board.” Gabriel’s lip curls, and for the first time, his gaze lands on my father. “They haven’t seen fit to remove me yet. So I’ll go where I like.”
“This is a private meeting,” my father retorts, but Gabriel is already back to ignoring him.
“You’re done,” he tells Travis. “Now, I want to see at least ten feet between you and Alexis, or—”
“Oh, I’m not done,” Travis interrupts with a sneer, reaching toward me.
I flinch away from him, but his hand comes to rest on my thigh.
My skin crawls, and Gabriel’s eyes ignite with fresh rage.
“If I were you,” Travis continues, “I’d think long and hard about whether you want this to become a scene. ”
For a tense second, I’m scared that Gabriel is about to throttle him. The tension in the office is thick, palpable. But Gabriel stands perfectly still.
“You don’t have the power you think you have.” His voice is calm, deadly. Anger simmers just beneath the surface, but he keeps his tone measured.
Then he turns to me, something softening in his eyes. “Alexis, you deserve to understand what’s really happening here.”
I swallow hard, my heart racing. “What do you m-mean?”
“This man”—he gestures roughly toward Travis—“has been blackmailing me. He found evidence of tax evasion in Vérité’s records, and threatened to implicate you in the scheme if I didn’t file for divorce.”
The room seems to shrink, the walls closing in around me. Tax evasion? I glance at my parents, hoping that they’ll look just as shocked as I feel, but they don’t. My mother has gone pale, and my father’s expression is wooden, his lips pressed to a thin line.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Travis hisses.
“I’m protecting her,” Gabriel says evenly, his voice ice-cold.
“You’re fucking her over.”
“No, I’m not.” Gabriel crosses his arms across his chest. “For the past few weeks, I’ve been working with a team of lawyers to fix this mess. Alexis was never responsible for the tax scheme. We’ve put together legal cover for her. It’s solid. Indisputable.”
Travis’s eyes widen. His smug demeanor falters for the first time, like the ground beneath him has shifted and he’s struggling to maintain his balance.
“You can’t threaten her anymore,” Gabriel says. There’s a fierceness in his tone that sends a shiver down my spine. “So back the fuck off.”