Page 54 of De-Witched

Any simmering attraction was quickly buried under the need to make this work. They’d decided on a black-tie charity dinner where guests would pay $500 a plate. Leah knew that was on the lower end of the scale, but it still made her stomach cramp. What if they couldn’t convince sponsors to buy in or guests to buy a plate?

Gabriel steamrollered over her hesitancy, clearly comfortable in this environment. It was yet another new side, the business mogul, and one that suited him.

“You’re good at this,” she commented when he was flicking through potential venues on a laptop, checking availability for the next month or so. She’d doubted they could pull this off, especially so soon, but he’d brushed her off with his usual imperious Goodnight explanations. Who was she to question a Goodnight?

She’d curled up on the other side of Louie, who’d finished his chew a while ago and now snored contentedly. The other two were sprawled on the floor in front of the lit fireplace.

She rested her arm along the back of the couch. “Which makes me ask why you’re having to pass a test to get your company. It’s clearly more ‘you’ than mopping pens or slinging drinks.”

He shifted to her. “Tia and Emmaline didn’t tell you?” Something lurked behind the question.

She considered her words, selected them carefully. “They told me something about needing to prove yourself?”

The fire snapped in the fireplace. He stared at her, long and hard enough that the ground beneath her started to crumble.

Then he glanced down at Louie. “Yes. Proving to the board that I can do the impossible.”

Leah knew what he meant. Be around humans. But all she said was, “Manual labor.”

“Something like that.”

She tapped her hand against the back of the couch. Her fingernails were a bright orange today and out of place against the gray material. “It’s very admirable you’d go through so much for your family.”

His face was always so serious. He’d mirrored her, one strong arm braced on the line of the couch. Their fingers didn’t touch, but if she moved, they could.

“It was my father’s request,” he said in a low voice.

“I... But I thought your dad was...”

“He is. But his last wishes were in his will, and if I want to be his successor, these are the conditions.”

“So, you had no choice over it?”

His jaw tensed. Abruptly he pushed up, striding over to the window. He stood there, framed by the darkness. He looked, she reflected with a clutch in her heart, very alone.

“This company,” he said, his voice a mere wisp of sound, “was their entire life’s work. They dedicated themselves to it, died for it. A choice?” He continued to gaze into the night. “No, there was no choice.”

Gabriel said nothing else, but Leah heard everything in the silence.

She wet her lips, debating. When she gave in and went to him, she didn’t look anywhere but out at the night. “They’d be proud of you.”

He let out a sound, something between a sigh and a laugh. “This from the woman who constantly berates me.”

“That’s different. You need to be brought down a peg or two.”

“Or five?”

“Or six. But that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t be proud of your choice to leave everything you know, your...way of life,” she said, treading carefully. “Just to fulfill their last wish.”

Now those eyes she found so breathtaking found hers. “You don’t ascribe to the opinion I’m only after power? I know Tia will have said it. Many will.”

“Maybe.” Humor surfaced. “But...no. I don’t think that.”

“Why?”

She gave a light shrug. “Call it a gut feeling.”

“Feelings can be wrong.”

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