Page 25 of The Forbidden

It was immediately unforgivable and no matter how crushed I felt at that moment, it was anger that had me spinning on my heel and walking away from them.

Derek’s laugh followed me but I heard nothing from Gabe. I didn’t look back and the tears didn’t start until I was in my dorm room. I wasn’t surprised when no more than ten minutes passed until Gabe was banging on my door.

He barged into my room, scrubbing his hands over his face as he turned to me. “I’m sorry about Derek. He’s an idiot and I had no choice but to play along with him or else I would have outed us.”

That hurt far more than it should have. “Derek is a predator and you’re a coward.” Gabe flinched which meant I’d hit my mark as intended. “You not only stood by while he said vile things about me, you ended up doing the same.”

Gabe’s voice rose with anger. “You know why I couldn’t. If our families found out about us—”

“That’s always your excuse,” I snapped. “What we are, who we are—it’s always hidden and I thought that was the biggest cross I had to bear in this relationship. But it’s not. It’s the fact that you don’t care enough to even defend me.”

“Derek was just talking out his ass—”

My voice was eerily quiet, soft with defeat. “Derek was making sexual suggestions, possibly hinting at assault. If you and I were an actual couple, he never would’ve done that. If that was any other person who didn’t know about the rift between our families, you would have kicked their ass for speaking that way about me.”

Gabe muttered a curse under his breath because he knew I was right. He was extremely overprotective of me in all ways—except when his family member was the predator.

He reached for my hand, but I pulled it away. “I don’t want to be your secret anymore, Gabe.”

Expression etched with pain, he said, “Just give it more time, Kat. Please.”

I felt the rift growing between us, a chasm widened by unspoken words, the heavy weight of our secret relationship suddenly unbearable. “I can’t do this anymore. It’s us, out in the open, or nothing at all. Your choice.”

Gabe’s jaw locked hard, his hands clenching until his knuckles turned white. “Is this an ultimatum?”

I lifted my chin, unwilling to back down. “It is.”

Gabe nodded, his voice raw with restrained emotion. “I guess that’s it, then.”

The finality of the words hung heavy in the air as the realization that we were over settled in. A strange mix of relief, along with a profound sadness, washed over me.

I reached for the door and opened it. “Goodbye, then.”

Gabe didn’t reply but walked out. I shut the door behind him, sank to the floor and cried my eyes out.

My cell phone rings and I startle out of the horrible memories I’ve done my best to not think about. I connect the call, seeing my mom’s name on the screen. “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”

“Wonderin’ how things are gettin’ on,” she says, her Irish brogue softened with worry.

I glance at the couch and see Sylvie is opening a stack of presents. She’s holding up a necklace with a locket charm on it. Gabe helps her with the hinge and when she opens it up, Sylvie gasps. I can’t see from here but I assume it’s a picture of Alaine when Sylvie throws her arms around Gabe’s neck for a long hug.

“It’s going great,” I tell my mom.

“I’m fair chuffed to hear that,” she says upon a contented sigh.

“I’m happy too,” I agree softly, so very happy that Sylvie is getting the type of uncle every little girl deserves, some validation that her Mardraggon roots have good in them, and that she has one more person to love her dearly.

CHAPTER 10

Gabe

I’m admittedly a workaholic, spending upward of eighty to ninety hours a week devoted to Mardraggon Enterprises. When our family settled in the Kentucky area, a fortuitous marriage with a Scots woman who had a wealth of knowledge about distilling techniques from her homeland forged our family’s destiny. Corn was abundant and grapevines were not, so bourbon was where we focused our efforts. Our family was one of the pioneers to use charred oak barrels to age the liquor, which became a defining characteristic of bourbon, and once we refined the process in the nineteenth century—particularly how to bottle it to preserve its quality and authenticity—Mardraggon Spirits Company was formed.

The company grew during the Civil War and we became known for our quality bourbon. We almost went under during Prohibition, the Blackburns doing all they could through political connections to block our ability to obtain medicinal licenses, but we persevered. Our case of Mardraggon Shadow Reserve Barrel was produced in only the second year of Prohibition, another reason it’s so valuable.

Post Prohibition, we were among the first distilleries to modernize. We experimented with different aging and production techniques and in 1964 Congress recognized bourbon as a “distinctive product of the United States.” That meant it was time for us to go global.

Our family’s winery in Saint-Émilion, while lucrative and part of our European legacy, became more of a hobby business, which was the main reason Alaine was allowed free rein with it. By the nineties, Mardraggon Spirits Company had generated billions in revenue and was renamed Mardraggon Enterprises, something my father felt spoke more to our worldwide impact. It was vain, in my opinion.

---