Page 58 of De-Witched

He blinked as his uncle’s concern pulled him back to the sunlit office. “It’s still an adjustment,” he said, sipping the black coffee and wincing at the burn. “But I’m abiding by the board and my father’s wishes and throwing myself into it.”

“About that.” If bad news had a face, it would have been August’s. His espresso floated back down to the desk. “I’m afraid not everyone on the board believes you are giving your all.”

Gabriel stopped moving. “I live in an apartment and spend my days cleaning out animal pens. How exactly am I not giving my all?”

“Some members question if you’re still relying on magic too much.”

He deliberately placed his coffee on the desk. “Wasn’t that the point of the binding, the feedback loop? So I didn’t use too much magic?”

“You don’t need to convince me, nephew. I know you’re doing your best.”

And his best still wasn’t good enough.

Gabriel slid his mask on before any of the stinging pain leaked through. “What do they propose? That I be stripped of magic completely?” As the words left him, dread curled tight in his belly, poisoning everything it touched.

“No.” August sounded appalled at the idea, and Gabriel’s taut muscles eased. “No. But they want to assign a...what you’d call a minder, of sorts, to drop in, check up on you.”

He shot up in his seat. “No.”

The vehemence stunned both of them.

August blinked. “No?”

Gabriel didn’t want a minder watching him, judging, seeing too much. Seeing...everything. Seeing Leah. “I don’t see why I should be subjected to such a humiliation.”

“As I said, they want reassurance.” August shook his head in disgust as he spread his hands on the desk. “I argued, my boy, argued until I turned blue, but the majority wouldn’t be moved. It’ll only be a few sporadic visits.” He rolled his eyes upward and muttered something unflattering about the naysayers.

Gabriel gave in. “Who?”

“Will,” August said, naming his longtime PA. “I’ve ordered him to be as unobtrusive as possible.”

Even with that assurance, the humiliation bubbled and burned. “What next, Uncle?” Gabriel’s voice was bitter. “Will they all come on a field trip to watch me make a fool of myself?”

“Think of it as one more stepping stone. One more hurdle.”

Unbelievable. He’d come to New Orleans searching for relief and it’d twisted around and bitten him. One more hurdle. He felt like he was already running a steeplechase.

But what could he say?

Gabriel gritted his teeth. “Very well.”

14

Leah slid Emma a look as they packed folders for potential sponsors. Her friend had returned from Brazil that morning, hopping a portal as she and Bastian often did. The Brazilian sun had given Emma’s skin a glow, or maybe that was just what being in love did. Or all the sex.

Don’t think about sex, she told herself in a tone that would’ve had her dogs quaking. As it was, they’d disappeared to the backyard to take advantage of the April sun. Emma had placed a protective barrier around Leah’s property when she’d moved in, so she didn’t worry anyone would get in or they’d get out.

Instead, she scratched Sylvie as the cat purred and lay across her lap. Ralph, as usual, kept to the shadows. Even now, she spied two amber eyes gleaming behind the TV cabinet.

It had been a few days since That Night and Leah couldn’t think about it without going crazy with questions about what it meant—or how Gabriel Goodnight might kiss. A mystery it seemed she was doomed never to solve.

In any case, she’d devoted herself to the gala as the ultimate distraction. Faced with facts and figures—and even better, Leah’s stubbornness—Sonny had had no choice but to say yes to their gala idea. She’d sensed the worry behind his smile, that they’d be worse off after spending their limited funds on this rather than repairs, but he’d agreed to try.

The next steps were simple: arrange meetings with prospective sponsors, go armed with a folder that included ballpark numbers and budgets, as well as basic information about the shelter and some of the residents’ profiles. The animals were the real linchpin; the strings Leah wanted to tug weren’t just purse ones. And she wasn’t above using her family name to sweeten the deal, even if crawling back to her mother’s old crowd stung her pride.

But she couldn’t concentrate on stuffing packets when the truth of That Night was trembling on the tip of her tongue. She’d never kept a secret from her friends until Gabriel, but she knew they’d react poorly if she brought it up. The tug-of-war was killing her.

“I have to tell you something,” she blurted out ten minutes later. But when Emma looked at her in question, her lily-livered ass bailed. “Um... I love your ring.”

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