Chapter Twenty-Three
The whispers start as soon as we walk into the room.
They follow us as we pause for pictures at the step and repeat backdrop at the end of the carpet—not actually red but purple instead. They follow us up the grand staircase. They follow us to the drink station where Gabriel asks for a glass of champagne for me and a whiskey neat for himself.
“I could have wanted a whiskey,” I mutter, more because I need to fight back. And I can’t yell at the old women to stop pointing at me, can’t scream at the men to stop staring at my ass.
“I’ve seen you drunk,” Gabriel says mildly. “No whiskey.”
Yes, and that’s probably not something we need to repeat in public. I can’t deny that I’d love some oblivion right now, though, because I see several of my father’s friends approaching. One owns a large housing development corporation, the other a manufacturing plant for tampons, of all things. I only ever see them together. Daddy played poker with them all the time.
They smile genially as the bartender finishes our drinks. “Miller! Great to see you here.”
Gabriel hands me a flute, and I take a fortifying sip—then scrunch my nose as the bubbles tickle me from the inside. I hear the amusement in Gabriel’s voice as he says, “You too, Bernard. How’s work been treating you?”
“Very stiff,” he says solemnly. “But we have plans to expand.”
Do not laugh, Avery. I manage to keep a straight face as he turns to me.
“And how has school been treating you? Are you still on leave to help your father?”
Technically my absence is being recorded as leave by the school, but everyone knows I have no means to go back. And I’m standing here beside Gabriel Miller, which shows exactly how academic my life has become. Even the auction won’t be enough to send me back to Smith College, once the house and my father’s caregivers are covered.
“Yes,” I say, keeping my voice polite and distant. “He’s doing very well.”
“Good, good,” the other man says. “I hope we can resume our poker games soon.”
I want to punch him in the face, because it’s clearly a lie. He was one of the first men to stop answering Daddy’s phone calls once the scandal broke. And even if Daddy were able to sit upright at a poker table, he wouldn’t have anything to gamble. This is the kind of bullshit that I always hated, but it strikes a little harder when it’s directed at my family.
“Of course,” I say, teeth clenched. Apparently that’s become my go-to answer when what I really want to say is go to hell, asshole.
Gabriel smiles as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen. There’s something I want to show Ms. James.”
A firm hand on my lower back guides me deeper toward the atrium. We’re not even two feet away when I hear those bastards snickering about the things Gabriel Miller is going to show me.
“I hate them,” I whisper, tears stinging my eyes.
Gabriel pulls me along, his voice almost droll as he adds, “Fucking brownnosers.”
I glance at him in surprise. “I thought they were your friends.”
“They’re not anybody’s friends. If your father thought otherwise, that was his mistake.”
My jaw clenches hard because he’s right. I hate that he’s right.
Damon Scott breaks from a group of men and lopes over to us, all casual confidence. He’s wearing a different three-piece suit, this one with tiny gold fleurs-de-lis stitched into the blue fabric. “Good evening. And here I thought to worry about you, Ms. James. But you look radiant.”
Radiant? I manage a thin smile. “Thank you.”
Damon leans close. “How is Gabriel treating you? Tell me honestly.”
The sparkle in his eye says it’s more filthy curiosity than concern for me. Gabriel makes a low growling noise that has Damon chuckling. They’re sharks, I realize. Sharp teeth. A taste for blood. And I’m wounded.
“Is Candy here?” I ask, hoping Ivan Tabakov likes the theater. I could use more of her advice. These men might be sharks, but she’s learned how to tame them.
“No,” Damon says with a smirk. “I think this is past her bedtime.”
A woman waved to Gabriel—a tall and leggy blonde I didn’t recognize. I wanted to think her makeup was trashy or her dress too revealing, but she looked perfect. I hated that Gabriel gave us a curt, “Excuse me a moment,” before going to speak with her.
I tried not to shoot daggers with my eyes. I had no right to be jealous. No desire to be jealous. This was a business arrangement, however cold that felt.
“So how is he really treating you?” Damon asks, his voice mild.
“Fine,” I say tightly, pretending not to watch the way the woman touches Gabriel’s arm. I look up at the balcony instead, catching a few people staring at me.
“Don’t tell me I need to ride to your rescue. I’d hate to have to return my percentage of the money. And my armor is all rusty.”
My laugh feels raw, my eyes strangely stinging. “No, I’m fine. I guess I should thank you. If you hadn’t done all that I’d have lost my family’s house.”
He ducks his head, looking almost boyish. “I’d say anytime, but I guess we already popped the cork on that champagne bottle.”
A startled laugh bursts out of me. What a comparison. If I had to be champagne at least I’m a bottle of Moët et Chandon, the kind Daddy got for my graduation party.
Of course, technically the cork hasn’t popped.
My cheeks heat with the realization. “Right.”
“I have to admit I was a bit nervous when Gabriel suggested the auction. And definitely when he bid on you. But it seems like it’s working out.”
Why was he nervous about me with Gabriel? Another head turns in my direction, only to quickly look away when we make eye contact. “Everyone’s staring at me.”
He scans the room. “To be fair, they’d do that for anyone on Gabriel’s arm.”
“But they know. At least some of them have to know about the auction. So many people were there. And that’s not even counting the pictures.”
He quirks a brow. “Pictures?”
“You know, the pictures you took to generate interest for the auction. The photographer at the Den.”
There’s a long pause where he looks quizzical. He speaks slowly, thoughtfully. “There weren’t any pictures, Ms. James. Gabriel said you bailed on him, that you couldn’t go through with the shoot. Is that true?”
My heart thuds, a worried beat. Why did he lie? No one saw those pictures. I try to keep the relief from my face. No one except for Gabriel Miller. “Yes.”
The corner of his mouth turns up. “No, I guess I’m not worried about you.”
Just then Gabriel returns to us, his mouth set in a hard line.
Damon takes the opportunity to slip away, giving us a jovial wave. “Now I have more people to talk to, more men who desperately want to part with their money.”
He strides away, waving to another group of people. He’s clearly using this evening for business. Is that what Gabriel is doing? Except he doesn’t seem interested in talking to anyone but me. And he lied about the pictures.
“If you want to mingle, you don’t have to take me along,” I say.
He cocks his brow. “Why would I want to mingle?”
“I don’t know. Business.” A shrug. “For the same reason Damon’s here.”
“He’s here because he’s lusting after a certain dancer in the show. And I don’t do business at the theater.”
“Where do you do business, then? A back alley?”
As soon as the words leave my lips, I wish I could take them back. That’s not an arrow I meant to fling. And no one gets away with insulting Gabriel Miller like that.
He laughs softly. “What makes you think I’m a criminal?”
But then this is Gabriel Miller, who values honesty above everything. And I remember what Harper told me, that he would be honest with me too. He might evade the question, he might refuse to answer, but whatever he said would be the truth.
“You’re friends with Damon Scott.”
“Ah, that.”
“And you’re a member of the Den.”
“A founding member, actually,” he says. “But your father did business with me. How bad can I be?”
His tone is blithe because we both know that my father was involved in a lot of underhanded dealings. I’d never have guessed it, but it all came out in court. The bribes, the dummy corporations. God. Of course Gabriel Miller managed to keep his name completely out of court documents, only supplying the evidence that the prosecutor needed to begin his investigation.
I take a step forward, moving out of range of his hand. Then I turn to the window, looking out over the city. A storm has crept across the skyscrapers, catching the spires and stair-step slopes in its gray net. It will be raining by the time we leave.
“I buy and sell things,” he finally says. “Like most businesses do.”
“What kind of things?”
“Other businesses, mostly.”
But not entirely. “Drugs. Guns?”
“If the money is right, anything is for sale.”
“People?”
“I bought you, didn’t I?”
His presence is warm and solid behind me, making sure I don’t escape. Or keeping everyone else away? I’m not sure, but I know that he’s not here to make my life easier. He’s here to use me, exactly as he said he would. To show everyone how low my father has fallen, that even his daughter is ruined.
“What did my father buy from you, anyway?” I say, bitterness tinging my voice.
“I bought something from him, actually.”
I turn in surprise, forgetting to hide my face. “You did?”
I never knew the details of the transaction that ruined everything. That wasn’t part of the court case. But it was common knowledge in the city. Gabriel made sure of that.
“His shipping company. It was failing, and he was looking for a buyer. I met with him a few times. My lawyers met with his. We made an offer. He accepted.”
My eyes widen. “No.”
Daddy owned several businesses, but his international shipping business was the largest one. His bread and butter. The bulk of his wealth. It had been in trouble, even before the mess with Gabriel Miller? I don’t want to believe that, because he should have told me. I should have known.
Gabriel watches the clouds, his golden eyes reflecting the rolling darkness. “Only after the papers were signed did I find out he had secretly sold off the company’s most valuable assets to other holding corporations, thus rendering my purchase almost worthless.”
My mouth drops open. Nothing Daddy did should surprise me anymore, but somehow it still does. After all the lectures he gave me about integrity and family pride. After the chili juice on my fingers. I had come to see him as ten feet tall, some kind of paragon of morality.
“How?” I manage.
He shrugs. “A dollar sale here. Twenty-five cents for million-dollar property there. He’s not the first man to try and cheat me. He won’t be the last, though less will try now that they’ve seen what happens.”
I swallow hard because I don’t want to think of how many lives were ruined. “There wasn’t anything you could do?”
His smile looks feral, more like a snarl. “Oh, there were plenty of options. I could have contested the deal in court—and won.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“It wouldn’t have been enough. I could have had him killed for what he did.”
My stomach tightens. Someone almost killed him one night, but they left him alive.
He continues, “Death would have made him a martyr, though. I wanted him alive. Alive and suffering, so that everyone in the city would see what happens to someone who fucks with Gabriel Miller.”
“Is that why you brought me here?” We both know the answer is yes.
He smiles faintly. I see the reflection in the window, overlaid on the stormy clouds. “You play chess. Surely you know the many uses of a pawn.”
I flinch because I know exactly what I am to him. It’s my role in this game: to fall when the time is right, to protect the king until I’ve run out of time.
To sacrifice myself at the perfect turn.
“The city is beautiful like this, held down by the sky,” he murmurs.
But when I glance at his reflection, it’s not the city he’s looking at. It’s me.