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There’s a tinge of envy to his voice, an underlying heartache that further cracks the vision I’ve carried of Gavriil for so long—impervious, cavalier, uncaring.
“She does. She gave me a home when I needed it the most. And now I can give her one.”
The jolt is so small I nearly miss it, a flash of tension through his body as his eyes widen.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes.” A slight shake of his head. “I haven’t revisited my past in a long time. It threw me off.”
The first things that come to mind all sound trite, bland words that don’t come close to addressing the bits and pieces he’s revealed.
“I can’t imagine,” I finally say softly.
“Most can’t.”
The salad arrives. I glance down, registering the artful arrangement of asparagus, mushrooms and artichokes on top of a bed of greens glistening with vinaigrette and flecked with Parmesan. How can I eat like this, be surrounded by this kind of luxury, when the man across from me has just shared something I can’t even begin to comprehend?
Gavriil was eight when he went to live with Lucifer. Which means what should have been some of the happiest years of his childhood were spent in hell. A hell that, judging by Gavriil’s borderline hatred of his father, Lucifer continued in his own twisted way.
“Money can corrupt.”
My head snaps up. Gavriil is watching me, his expression languid except for the sharpness in his gaze. His fingers trail up and down the stem of his wineglass.
“It can.” I release a pent-up breath as I reconcile this glimpse into Gavriil’s childhood with his obsession with wealth. “It can also be used for good.”
He nods, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Agreed. Or it can be the one thing that gives back. The only thing.”
My heart cracks.
“What about your brothers?”
His chuckle is a dark, sinister sound that nevertheless rolls through me, stirring the embers left from the morning when I bared myself to him.
“I met Michail at Lucifer’s will-reading. The same day I learned my father had tied all of my hard work to his own obsessive need to control everything, even in death. And Rafe has always preferred his own company.”
If Rafael Drakos was in front of me right now, I would toss my very expensive wine in his face. He’s ten years older than Gavriil, which means he would have been eighteen when Gavriil went to live with Lucifer. More than old enough to take a little brother who’d just lost his mother under his wing. To protect him and give him at least a taste of family.
“Just as bad as Lucifer.”
Gavriil slowly shakes his head. “Unfortunately, no. It would be so much easier to hate him if he was. But Rafe is just...cold. Straight down to his icy heart. As much as I sometimes want to punch him, I can only imagine what turned him into what he is.”
He shakes his head then and signals for the waiter. He orders us each a glass of pinot noir before changing the topic to what my favorite exhibit was at the Louvre, then skillfully guiding the conversation to the traveling I did for my job. He does it so well I almost forget the rips in our souls we’ve bared to each other as we eat our way through rosemary risotto topped with beef fillet and shaved truffles. When Gavriil feeds me a bite of chocolate ganache topped with a roasted strawberry, I see the heat in his eyes as my lips part for him.
My body responds to his desire without hesitation. Things have changed between us. The intimacy of sharing so many secrets, of feeling his support and compassion, has built a bridge between us.
I’m now terrified I won’t be able to stop myself from crossing it. Even if it means I leave this marriage divorced and brokenhearted.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Gavriil
NIGHTHASFULLYsettled over Paris. The last sparkling lights of the Eiffel Tower fade.
Midnight. The witching hour.
I’ve never given much credence to the concept of magic. But after my dinner with Juliette, I now understand the meaning of the wordbewitched. Only magic could have made me confess what I did tonight. Some details, like the rats, I’ve never shared with another living soul.
Magic or lust. It has to be one of the two that made me reveal what I did.
“She does. She gave me a home when I needed it the most. And now I can give her one.”
The jolt is so small I nearly miss it, a flash of tension through his body as his eyes widen.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes.” A slight shake of his head. “I haven’t revisited my past in a long time. It threw me off.”
The first things that come to mind all sound trite, bland words that don’t come close to addressing the bits and pieces he’s revealed.
“I can’t imagine,” I finally say softly.
“Most can’t.”
The salad arrives. I glance down, registering the artful arrangement of asparagus, mushrooms and artichokes on top of a bed of greens glistening with vinaigrette and flecked with Parmesan. How can I eat like this, be surrounded by this kind of luxury, when the man across from me has just shared something I can’t even begin to comprehend?
Gavriil was eight when he went to live with Lucifer. Which means what should have been some of the happiest years of his childhood were spent in hell. A hell that, judging by Gavriil’s borderline hatred of his father, Lucifer continued in his own twisted way.
“Money can corrupt.”
My head snaps up. Gavriil is watching me, his expression languid except for the sharpness in his gaze. His fingers trail up and down the stem of his wineglass.
“It can.” I release a pent-up breath as I reconcile this glimpse into Gavriil’s childhood with his obsession with wealth. “It can also be used for good.”
He nods, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Agreed. Or it can be the one thing that gives back. The only thing.”
My heart cracks.
“What about your brothers?”
His chuckle is a dark, sinister sound that nevertheless rolls through me, stirring the embers left from the morning when I bared myself to him.
“I met Michail at Lucifer’s will-reading. The same day I learned my father had tied all of my hard work to his own obsessive need to control everything, even in death. And Rafe has always preferred his own company.”
If Rafael Drakos was in front of me right now, I would toss my very expensive wine in his face. He’s ten years older than Gavriil, which means he would have been eighteen when Gavriil went to live with Lucifer. More than old enough to take a little brother who’d just lost his mother under his wing. To protect him and give him at least a taste of family.
“Just as bad as Lucifer.”
Gavriil slowly shakes his head. “Unfortunately, no. It would be so much easier to hate him if he was. But Rafe is just...cold. Straight down to his icy heart. As much as I sometimes want to punch him, I can only imagine what turned him into what he is.”
He shakes his head then and signals for the waiter. He orders us each a glass of pinot noir before changing the topic to what my favorite exhibit was at the Louvre, then skillfully guiding the conversation to the traveling I did for my job. He does it so well I almost forget the rips in our souls we’ve bared to each other as we eat our way through rosemary risotto topped with beef fillet and shaved truffles. When Gavriil feeds me a bite of chocolate ganache topped with a roasted strawberry, I see the heat in his eyes as my lips part for him.
My body responds to his desire without hesitation. Things have changed between us. The intimacy of sharing so many secrets, of feeling his support and compassion, has built a bridge between us.
I’m now terrified I won’t be able to stop myself from crossing it. Even if it means I leave this marriage divorced and brokenhearted.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Gavriil
NIGHTHASFULLYsettled over Paris. The last sparkling lights of the Eiffel Tower fade.
Midnight. The witching hour.
I’ve never given much credence to the concept of magic. But after my dinner with Juliette, I now understand the meaning of the wordbewitched. Only magic could have made me confess what I did tonight. Some details, like the rats, I’ve never shared with another living soul.
Magic or lust. It has to be one of the two that made me reveal what I did.
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