Page 141 of Gabriel

“I’m not pacing,” I muttered, even though I absolutely was.

Mom reached me and kissed the side of my head gently. “You look tired.”

“Ah yes, kidnapping the heir of the Santos Cartel and keeping him entertained for close to a month must have been exhausting,” Liana chirped, and I rolled my eyes.

“Liana,” my father scolded, but his gaze was on me. He knew—and so did I—that I fucked up. “What were you thinking, Amara?”

My shoulders slumped. “That I was helping Jet.”

“You three…” Mom sighed, shooting me a look that was equal parts pity and disapproval. “Whenever you get together, it’s like throwing a volcano, an earthquake, and an avalanche into a blender and hitting puree.”

“And this marriage?” Mother Liana asked.

I groaned; of course she knew.

I specifically told Kian not to tell anyone. I’d planned to ease them into it. One conversation at a time, calmly, ideally with alcohol involved. The plan was to get married first, deal with the fallout later.

But no. It would seem he was incapable of shutting his mouth when it came to matters of my personal life.

“We were going to tell you after we made it official,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.

Mother Liana just smiled. Not the sweet kind. The kind that had razors beneath it.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to marry anyone,” my father said. “You know we’ll have your back no matter what.”

I nodded.

“Is it your choice?” Liana asked. “You’re not being pressured into this?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but she cut me off with a dramatic wave of her manicured hand.

“Because let’s be clear, my children are too good for any family. Santos or otherwise.” Her voice was low, velvet-wrappedsteel. “I don’t care how many cities, countries, or drug routes they control.”

Father scoffed. “She’s Emory’s and my daughter first, let’s not forget that.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“It’s my choice,” I ground out. “No, I’m not being forced. And yes, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Mother Liana tilted her head slightly, skeptical. “Do you?” she asked. “Because love has a nasty habit of making people do very stupid, very permanent things. Like fall for men with tragic eyes and tongues so smooth they could sell salt to the sea.”

My mom let out a breath like she was holding back a laugh.

My father didn’t bother hiding his. “The tragic-eyes thing is a little on the nose, Liana. Amara snatched him, not the other way around.”

“And I applaud that,” Liana drawled. “But I don’t applaud Amara marrying some?—”

“Mother Liana, you better consider your next words carefully,” I cut her off. “Gabriel saved my life. He threw himself over me during the explosion, and the result is his blindness. I love you, but I won’t have you disrespecting my future husband.”

“Gabriel Santos is a good man,” my father said.

I shot him a grateful smile, but before the warmth could settle, Liana dismissed it with an eye roll.

“Men are always good until they get what they want.”

“That’s not fair,” I said, frowning. “Giovanni, your husband, has everything he wants, and he’s still a good man. So is my father.”

She scoffed, unbothered. “Yes, well. They’re the exception, not the rule. And trust me, I am the reason they stayed good.”