Page 24 of Gabriel

Not that I planned on doing any reading. Romance novels and photography were Anya’s thing. I was still trying to discover myself, hence the trip with Elira.

Anya: No, but I know I need one with 600 pages of pure smut. Like, emotionally scarring levels that will make it hard to function.

Penelope: Get married and you’ll have smut on demand.

Anya: No, thank you. Nobody’s putting a leash on this hot bod. I’m the CEO in my world, and I call the shots. I solemnly declare a ban on marriage.

Me: I’m with Anya. Smut-on-demand sounds suspiciously like marital duty.

Anya: On that note, I’m going to bed. It’s way too late here.

Me: I cannot believe you’re in Albania. What the heck spurred that on?

Penelope: Maybe she was chasing

Anya:

Me: You tell her, Anya. Just because Pen chases , it doesn’t mean the rest of us do. We have more important things to deal with.

Skye: You need to let go of your inner mafia princess, Amara. Expand your horizons. Sexually. Spiritually. Geographically.

I scoffed at Skye’s text. Ever since she married Nikola Nikolaev, she believed herself to be some kind of enlightened porn star.

Me: Okay, Mrs. Nikolaev. We get it. You and your hubby have explored the full IKEA catalog of bedroom accessories. No need to go public. Besides, I am exploring. Backpacking, remember?

Skye: You have such a dirty mind. All I’m saying is, maybe it’s time for an alliance between your and Santos’s family. Hmmm, Gabriel would snatch you up in a heartbeat. After all, he’s had his eye on you for a while now.

I tensed, not only because subtlety had clearly left the chat, but also because he happened to be the reason behind my current geographical location.

Anya: An Amara-and-Gabriel romance screams age gap. I love my brother, so obviously I encourage you to give it a try. Plus, he’ll be less focused on me.

Me: Considering you’re his family and therefore very biased… BTW, how are you liking Albania?

Anya: So far, I’m loving it.

Anya: Marry Gabriel, then come and visit me here in Albania. We can be wild and reckless together.

I wouldn’t marry her brother; I’d kill him the first chance I got. Poor Anya. I loved her, but I could never tell her my plan because her loyalty was tangled up in someone like Santos. Much like my own family.

Maybe I’d spare him for her sake—certainly not out of mercy, but strategy. I’d keep him alive, hidden away in a basement where I’d force him to call her now and then to assure her he was fine.

Of course he would be lying, but that was better than being dead.

Such a shame though, because Gabriel Santos was a fine human specimen—gorgeous, lethal, and built like sin. We’d been playing a game of cat and mouse for years.

I gave a slight shake of my head, banishing the image of the gorgeous man. There were dozens just as beautiful as him who were smart enough never to threaten my family.

Besides, being reckless and visiting Albania where my grandfather, Kian Cortes, lived would definitely not earn me any goodwill points.

My grandfather was a force of a man that didn’t go for anything reckless. He always said that being in a position of power required us to be cautious and responsible, to do the right thing when it mattered. Furthermore, his name could open doors or get you killed before you could knock.

Hence why I kept my distance from men and only used them to scratch the itch when needed. Most were only drawn to the empire behind me anyway. The family name. The promise of access. It left me constantly second-guessing their intentions. Was it desire or ambition? Love or leverage?

It was impossible to know for sure.

And while I tried to lump Gabriel in with every other man on this planet, deep down, I knew he was different.

He was patience incarnate—just like the wordPatienceI knew he had inked across his bicep. He was also measured and calculating. Characteristics that only made him more dangerous.