Page 6 of De-Witched

“It’s not all good when I catch you making out with the Warlock of Contempt.”

“We weren’t ‘making out.’” Barely even a kiss, she thought with some disappointment. “And seriously, you’re calling him names now?”

“Society calls him that. He’s so full of his family and name, of his status. And he’s against our people mingling. Thinks witches should stick with witches.”

“What?” But that was...

Kole nodded, releasing her chin. “Except when it comes to business, I guess, since his company’s mixed up with both witches and humans.” He tugged on a loosened blond curl. “See how I rescued you now? How about some gratitude? I have a few ideas on how you could thank me.”

She wasn’t in the mood for their usual flirty banter, disappointment coating the joy she’d had in the moment.

Kole sighed, reached for her hand—luckily not her injured one, as that would’ve brought on a whole new lecture. “Let’s get back inside. Bastian said he has some big announcement.”

She threw one last searching look at the gardens. Kole was wrong, had to be. Not that she’d ever see Gabriel Goodnight again, but she wanted to think of him as the lonely stranger she’d almost kissed on a starlit night. If this was the only piece of this world she could have, that was how she’d choose to remember it.

They’d always have the balcony.

2

Today was the day.

Gabriel stepped out of the portal he’d created, adjusting his sapphire silk tie with a steady hand. Confidence rode his straight shoulders, the lift of his chin, the satisfied air of a warlock about to do what he’d set out to accomplish twelve years ago.

Even though the few human employees scattered around the lobby had signed magical NDAs under the permission of the High Family, he’d still concealed his portal under a glamour and only removed it after snapping the portal shut with a wave of his hand. You never knew if they would have visiting humans from other businesses.

Now visible, he gave a clipped nod to Susan and Eric, who sat at the half-moon marbled reception as his Ferragamo shoes ate up the glossy floor toward the elevator bank. He didn’t see if they acknowledged his greeting, too focused on the clench of anticipation in his gut. He could have gone straight to the top floor, but he wanted to appreciate every moment of walking through the New Orleans skyscraper that housed his legacy. Because today was the day.

Today was when the board would finally recognize his years of working his way up through his parents’ company and vote him CEO of Goodnight’s Remedies.

Along with the wave of satisfaction came the old mingled cloud of sorrow and bitterness. He pushed the up button, seeing not the distorted image of himself in the three-piece silver suit but instead his father, dressed in the same. Although it had been twelve years, sometimes it felt like only days had passed since he and his younger sister, Melly, had got the mirror message about their parents’ deaths.

Laura and Alec Goodnight had been helping administer medicines to a village in Colombia when human rebels had blazed through. While his parents had been Higher status, their abilities lay in alchemy. As humans weren’t to know of witches, they couldn’t portal out; his mother had been trying to help the villagers escape when she was shot in the belly. His father had refused to leave her and had been shot, too. Both gone because of their unwillingness to leave each other—and their determination to be part of the human world.

Gabriel exhaled a slow stream of air as the elevator doors opened, forcing his eyes and attention forward—on the future, not the past. He’d worked his ass off from day one, starting in the mailroom and making his way through each department, learning it, conquering it, expanding it, bit by bit, until he knew how every part of the business interlinked and could function more efficiently.

He’d developed tablets to ease asthma with the skilled lab technicians his mother had once worked with, created marketing campaigns with the silver-tongued suits that worked in advertising. He’d even gone out into the field to harvest ingredients they used in the potions and lotions they bottled and packed up to sell to the masses. He’d earned his place here. He’d done what was expected, what he expected from himself. To be the best, to live up to his parents’ legacy, even if the company’s mission statement slicked salt in open wounds.

To heal, to help, and to engender hope for a brighter future for human-and witchkind together.

His lips flattened as he pushed for the top floor where the board would meet. Gabriel didn’t care that the High Family oversaw every initiation of a human into the business—and in general. Inviting humans in, mixing their worlds, was asking for trouble. Asking for someone else to be left an orphan like he and Melly had been.

He closed his eyes, again shoving away any disruptive thoughts. He was an island on a calm ocean and no waves would disrupt his path.

Because today was the day when he would finally step up to meet his destiny. And nothing was going to ruin that.

Except maybe this.

Gabriel wondered if steam was shooting out his ears as he gazed coolly at his uncle and the board across the polished walnut table. Beneath said table, he clasped his hands tightly, wringing until a spike of pain from his family ring allowed him to speak with a measure of calm.

“I think I misheard you.” He didn’t shift in the leather chair but plenty of the other eleven board members did, uncomfortable with what they thought might become a scene.

They should know better; Gabriel had never made a scene in his life.

His uncle didn’t stir under the stare, but then, the man who currently ran the Goodnight empire had helped Gabriel raise Melly—and to some extent, Gabriel himself, even though he’d been eighteen when his parents had died.

August steepled his hands, still looking a distinguished forty despite having one hundred and fifty-two years of hard work behind him. He looked so much like Gabriel’s father, like Gabriel, it was almost painful to look at him. They shared the same black hair that had too much body, the same sharp facial structure. Except where Gabriel had inherited his mother’s green-blue eyes, August stared sternly at him out of hazel eyes the shade of Melly’s.

“I said we can’t vote you in yet.”

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