Page 8 of De-Witched

“I care.”

“And that’s why you avoid talking to any of our human employees when you can?”

Discomfort crept up Gabriel’s poker-straight spine. He folded his arms. “You know why it makes me uncomfortable.”

“But not everyone does. There has been talk that you’re not suitable to lead this company into its new age. That you would hold us back.”

Gabriel’s arms drifted to his sides. “Hold you back?”

August clapped both hands onto Gabriel’s shoulders, meeting him head-on. “Nobody who knows you doubts your dedication. It’s a slap in the face, yes, but we can use this to our advantage. Trust me, I’m angry as hell at Alec for forcing you to do this.”

“He knew.” Gabriel swallowed, memories clouding him. None good. “He knew I’d fail.”

August shook him lightly. “You haven’t failed. This is Alec’s way of controlling things; my brother was always determined that this company would grow.”

And determined, Gabriel thought sickly, that his son never take the reins of the thing he loved the most. Why else force him to live three months with limited powers? He knew it was more likely his son would walk away. The son he knew. The screw-up.

Are you any different now? The thought was a silent jeer hard to ignore.

“If it’s too hard for you,” August continued, “if you want to step away, I am perfectly happy to keep running the company.”

Buzzing began in Gabriel’s ears. How had this gone to hell so quickly?

“We can find you a seat on the board or you can pick a department and work there.” August squeezed Gabriel’s shoulders before dropping away. His face was compassionate. “You don’t have to do this.”

No, he didn’t. His uncle was right; he could walk away. Play into his father’s expectations.

Except that wasn’t who Gabriel was now. He handled his responsibilities the way his parents had always expected of him.

Except this...it weighed like a crushing curse, bending his body under the pressure.

“What...” He had to stop, start again. “What are the conditions?”

Something flickered in his uncle’s eyes before he seated himself on the corner of his desk. “You’d have to stay three months connected with humans. Meaning you have to find a place to live, find a job, get to know your co-workers. Interact. And you’d have to do this with your powers bound.”

“Stripped away?”

“Stripped back,” August corrected, “and not stripped exactly. We’ll limit the level of your magic, but you’ll still have access. Though I’m told with a binding spell, the more you use, the more it will hurt.” A beat passed. “If you break the binding, use stronger magic, the clause is nullified and you’d give up your controlling share.”

Panic burst into a cloud of black dots at the edges of Gabriel’s vision. This couldn’t be happening.

“I know.” August shook his head, gripping the edge of his desk, as if he found this as painful as Gabriel. “I don’t know what Alec was thinking. It’s not...normal for us to live with only basic magic. And it’s not fair to ask you to do this.”

No, it wasn’t. The walls closed in until his tie threatened to choke him. Magic was what he was, who he was.

“Are there any stipulations about the kind of job, the area?” His voice was flat, stripped of emotion. He couldn’t afford to give in to it, had to stand alone.

The memory of a teasing witch on a moonlit balcony three weeks ago flirted in his mind, as it so often did. She wouldn’t agree, of that he was sure.

“No stipulations other than those stated.” August studied him. “I know you, Gabriel. You’ve worked too hard to give up, but again, I’m fine to continue running the company if you don’t want to do this.”

Want? No. But he had to.

“However,” his uncle continued, clapping a hand on his shoulder again, “choosing to do this will go a long way with the board members eager to explore further growth into the human side of things. After discussion with the High Family, naturally. As CEO, they’d look to you to lead the way. Accomplishing this will help with that.”

For a split second, Gabriel thought about breaking something, about screaming. Temptation to refuse played on his tongue, all but purred in his ear. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t—

Catching the spiral, he breathed out slowly, willing himself to calm. The tornado slowed, stopped, broke apart as his chest eased. He would deal with this the way he’d dealt with everything. Head-on, one logical step at a time. Alone.

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