Chapter 16 - Whispers in the Rain
Dinner was a masterclass in psychological warfare.
For two hours, Marcus attempted to poke holes in our relationship, quizzing me on Gabriel’s habits, his childhood, and our alleged courtship. But Gabriel and I had spent the previous evening preparing with Claire. I answered every query with calm, effortless precision, weaving half-truths and manufactured memories together until even Beatrice Thorne seemed begrudgingly impressed.
When dinner finally concluded, a torrential autumn rain had begun to lash against the towering leaded-glass windows.
"The bridge down the road is flooded," Beatrice announced, rising from her chair with the help of her silver cane. "You two will stay in the east wing guest suite tonight. Together. Unless, of course, your betrothal is as fabricated as Marcus claims."
A test. A final, invasive trap to see if we were sleeping in separate beds.
"That will be fine, Grandmother," Gabriel said without missing a beat.
Ten minutes later, the heavy oak door of the guest suite clicked shut, locking us into an expansive room featuring a massive four-poster canopy bed, a roaring stone fireplace, and heavy velvet curtains that shut out the storm outside.
The air in the room suddenly felt dangerously thick.
I stood by the fireplace, rubbing my bare arms, the adrenaline of the dinner finally beginning to recede, leaving behind an exhausting, electric tension.
"You handled Marcus brilliantly," Gabriel said, walking up behind me. He had unbuttoned his collar and discarded his jacket, the flickering orange flames of the hearth casting long, dancing shadows across his sculpted face.
"He’s a bully," I said, watching the embers crackle. "I’ve spent the last six months being bullied by men who thought they were kings. Marcus Thorne is just Damian with forty more years of practice."
Gabriel let out a low, breathy laugh—a rare, unguarded sound that made my chest tighten unexpectedly.
"You are unlike any woman I have ever known, Ava," he whispered, stepping closer.
He was right behind me now. I could feel the heat radiating from his chest, hear the slow, rhythmic cadence of his breathing. The faint scent of cedarwood, scotch, and rain enveloped me like a dream.
"Gabriel..." My voice was barely a whisper, a tremor running through it that had nothing to do with fear.
He reached out, his large hands resting gently on my bare shoulders. His skin was warm, sending a river of fire cascading down my spine. Slowly, he turned me around to face him.
His dark gray eyes were completely unguarded, burning with an intensity that made the room spin.
"The fourth rule of our contract," Gabriel murmured, his voice dropping into a dark, mesmerizing whisper, his thumb reaching up to gently trace the lower curve of my lip. "Do you remember it, Ava?"
"No falling in love," I breathed, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs, my breath mingling with his in the quiet room.
May you like
"Then tell me to stop," he whispered, his face descending slowly toward mine, his gaze locked onto my lips. "Tell me to walk away right now, Ava. Because if you don't... I’m going to break my own rule."
***