Page 52 of Gabriel

“You should be,” he deadpanned, cutting into the lobster. “I don’t regularly share our family’s tamales.”

Our eyes met, and I felt the heat rush to my cheeks. This effect he had on me was maddening. This fluttering, this pull… It was unfamiliar territory, and I had no idea how to navigate it.

But then I remembered the plan, the fact that Gabriel was behind the explosion in Paris, and Jet’s disappearance.

The attraction chilled instantly, like a bucket of ice water down my spine.

I picked up the silverware and started cutting into my food, then chewed it slowly. My taste buds exploded and I couldn’t hold back a slow moan.

He grinned. “Like it?”

“It’s good.”

“That’s the understatement of the century.”

It was, but I wouldn’t admit it. For the next few minutes, we ate in silence. He savored his lobster while I ate my tamales like it was my first and last meal.

Then Gabriel broke the silence and my food porn session with tamales.

“So, what are you up to, Amara? You show up on my turf, kill a few men, and now you’re dressed like vengeance. Why can’t I help but think there’s more to this than just a romantic dinner?”

“It’s not romantic,” I said, lying through my teeth. “And I was hungry.”

“Right. And the yacht out back?” I shot him a blank look, feigning ignorance, and he smirked. “Planning a sailing trip?”

“Maybe.”

“Who all is on that yacht?”

I smiled again and repeated, “You know, family and such.”

He tilted his head, studying me with those eyes that seemed to sink deep into my soul.

“That means Elira since the rest of your family is blissfully unaware of your endeavors and thinks you’re still in Europe.”

I never stopped eating, but I did manage a small grimace. “I see you’re back in full stalking mode.”

He flashed me a charming smile. “At least I do it with morals and respect your boundaries.”

“Stalking, morals, and boundaries don’t belong in the same book, never mind the same sentence,” I retorted dryly.

“You like me stalking you, Amara. You just don’t want to admit it.”

His confidence was hard to resist. Most men trembled when they learned of my connections to Mother Liana, my own parents, and Kian. But not Gabriel.

He set down his silverware, his eyes never wavering and his confidence never faltering. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The one that says you’re about to do something reckless and morally questionable. Are you, Amara?”

My lips curved into a half-smile as I reached for my glass. “That’s just my face, and if I were, I certainly wouldn’t tell you.”

He took his own wineglass between his strong fingers, bringing it to his lips and taking a sip before putting it down.

It was dangerous how normal this moment felt. Almost as if we’d done this a thousand times.

He leaned in slightly, voice low. “You’re not going to startmoretrouble here, are you,preciosa?”