Gabriel, unbelievably, looked entirely unperturbed. “I see word gets around,” he said, coolly.

“I’ve just spoken to P—”

Gabriel interrupted. “We’re not alone, Vivienne,” he said, and gestured to where Lily stood, having moved instinctively in front of Miri when the woman had stormed in.

The woman’s head whipped around and Lily saw her eyes were glowing crimson. Lily had seen Gabriel’s eyes do the same thing, so it wasn’t as though it were beyond the realm of possibility, but it was still quite startling.

Behind her, Lily heard Miri’s swift intake of breath and had the vague thought she’d gotten some proof for Miri after all.

The woman advanced on them, and Lily straightened, tried not to look afraid.

“Who are you?” the woman said. “What are you?”

Lily opened her mouth to answer, but Gabriel beat her to it. “Her name is Lily,” he said. “Lily, this is my mother, Vivienne Malignon.”

“She owns the club with you,” Lily said. “I remember.”

Vivienne tilted her head, looked at Lily with disgust. “And I remember you, desperately plying your limited charms on my son downstairs a few days ago.”

“I find her charms quite diverting,” Gabriel said, “and nearly limitless.”

Vivienne looked at him over her shoulder and huffed out a surprised breath. “We’ve already discussed her,” she said. “She’s a nothing. She’s—”

“She’s right here,” Lily broke in, “and would appreciate not being spoken about as though she weren’t.”

Vivienne’s head whipped back around; her eyes bored into Lily’s. They were no longer glowing, but the menacing glare was still pretty disconcerting. “Now, see here—”

“No,” Lily said, with what she knew was more bravado than sense. She’d be damned if she’d back down. “I don’t care to see whatever it is you’d like to explain to me.” She deliberately looked away, cast her glance over Vivienne’s shoulder to Gabriel. “I think we’ll take off now.”

Lily would think, afterward, it was hard to say who was more surprised—herself or Gabriel—at what happened next: Vivienne’s hand flew out, and she slapped Lily hard across the mouth.

“You’ll watch your tongue when you speak to me, you eerie little gold-digger, or—”

But she didn’t get a chance to say what it was that would happen, because before she could get any further, Gabriel was standing between her and Lily, grasping the wrist of the hand that had hit Lily. Vivienne gasped, and tried to pull away, but failed.

“Let me go,” she demanded. “You’re hurting me.”

“I haven’t begun to hurt you.” Gabriel’s voice was low, and furious. “Lay hands on her again, and I’ll grind your bones to a fine powder.”

Lily recognized that voice. She’d heard it in that parking garage in Vegas.

“I’d like to see you try,” Vivienne challenged, and her eyes began to glow again, a simmering pale red this time, but growing slowly brighter as she pulled her arm back toward herself and it moved ever-so-slightly.

The sense of impending lightning-strike in the room ratcheted up a notch.

Lily didn’t know who was stronger, who would ultimately be the victor if this turned into an actual physical fight, but she liked neither possible outcome. If Vivienne won, who knew what would happen; certainly Lily’s and Miri’s lives would be in danger.

If Gabriel won—well, Vivienne was his mother, wasn’t she? Lily knew he had some resentment towards her, but she didn’t know how deep that resentment ran. What she did know, because she paid attention, was when he spoke of his mother, even with some disdain, he sounded like a boy who’d been expecting a really good birthday present and instead got an ugly sweater.

What she heard in Gabriel’s voice, when he talked about his mother, was regret, and a little bit of something that sounded an awful lot like longing.

Unable to think of any other way to de-escalate, she moved around Gabriel and got between them, turned to face him. “Please,” she said. “She’s your mother.”

Gabriel let go of Vivienne’s arm, though Lily could still feel her presence at her back. Lily moved just a little bit closer to Gabriel, reached up to touch his face.

He, in turn, touched hers, running a fingertip along her bottom lip. “You’re bleeding,” he said. “I ought to break her arm for that.”

She shook her head. “No one’s breaking anyone’s arm tonight,” she said. “I know you don’t exactly have a conventional relationship—”

Behind her, Vivienne snorted. Despite everything, there was something in the sound that almost made Lily like her—it sounded less like derision and more like genuine amusement.

But almost, as Lily’s father had loved to say, didn’t count, except in horseshoes and hand grenades. Her lip was throbbing, and there was no way she was ever going to like Gabriel’s mother.

Gabriel produced a handkerchief from an inside pocket, dabbed at her lip. “I have something you can put on this,” he said. “I don’t know how to apologize enough. If I’d known she would put her hands on you, I’d have stopped her.”

“You’d have tried,” Vivienne said, but she stepped away from them, leaned against the desk as Gabriel had been doing earlier.

Lily looked heavenward, figured no help would be forthcoming there, and turned to face Vivienne. “I don’t know what your problem is with me—” she began.

“Really? Because I thought I’d made it clear.”

“Clear that you think I’m after Gabriel for his money or something? Sure, you’ve made that clear.” Lily stepped back, brushed against Gabriel and felt that tingle, as always—but an odd sort of uplifting strength as well, enough so she tilted her chin up and decided to just put the truth out there and let Vivienne deal with it. “But I don’t care about Gabriel’s money,” she said, and began unbuttoning her shirt. “As he can tell you, and I wasn’t looking to get involved with him—until this.”

She turned around to present Vivienne with her back, dropped her father’s shirt off her shoulders, and stood there in her bra, her mark on display for Vivienne.

And then all Hell broke loose.