Page 152 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 1-4

He stares at me for a long moment. “I have all that I want.”

Liar.

I don’t say it out loud, not in his moment of grief. But I know that something is missing in Gavriil’s life. And despite everything that’s happened between us, the good and the bad, I fervently wish that one day he’ll figure out what is missing.

“And you, Juliette.” He cocks his head to the side. “I thought at first you wanted to destroy my family. Then I thought you wanted a fortune of your own. I know you wanted revenge on my father, but you’ve succeeded there. So...” His voice trails off as he holds my gaze, his smile as careless as his eyes are hard. “What do you want now?”

I hesitate. Once I thought my career was everything. But somewhere along the way, or perhaps all along, justice and revenge had become synonymous. I’d become obsessive, vengeful, even power-hungry in my own way as I’d taken joy in the downfall of others.

A shiver creeps over my skin. If I was looking in a mirror right now, I would loathe what I see. What I had let myself become. And now, with Lucifer gone and Grey House back in my family once more, the driving force behind so much of what I’d done was gone, leaving me adrift.

“I don’t know.”

A family walks by, a man and woman with three little children in tow. The youngest can’t be more than two, her little feet propelling her down the path as she looks up at the sky and lets out a giggle. I smile, the brief moment of joy that sounds out in a place of remembrance and mourning.

I look back at Gavriil to see him staring at me with narrowed eyes.

“Whatever it is you think you still want, I hope you’re sensible enough to stay away from foolish ideas like true love.”

He’s trying to push me away, to remind me of the boundaries he’s put in place. I don’t need the reminder, not after this morning and his abrupt departure. But I also won’t let him taint something that I want for myself. Something that’s still possible down the road.

“What’s wrong with love?”

“Love is unreliable.” The words flow, cold and calculated. “It can bring happiness, yes. But it can also bring pain and grief like you’ve never experienced before.”

My heart turns over in my chest at the thought of him loving another woman so deeply. All of my research never hinted at any one person, any grand love affair. But the venom in his words tells me that his views on love are rooted in something deeply personal and horribly painful.

“Who was she?”

When his head turns, the knowledge hits me with the force of a train. He crouches down and lays the roses in front of the headstone.

“I loved my mother with everything I had. She chose her grief over me. Chose to lie on a mold-soaked mattress and stare at a wall, wallowing in the pain of loving a man who never returned her affections.” He stands, shoving his hands forcefully into his pockets. “Or she’d drink until she drifted into some fantasy world where it made sense for her to persist in her ridiculous beliefs.”

He turns and walks to me, stopping mere inches away. When he leans down, it’s not the intimate movement of a lover, the closeness of a friend about to confide a secret. It’s for me to see his pain, to feel the depth of his belief that being alone is preferable to risking his heart for anyone ever again.

“I will never make her mistake.”

I tilt my chin up, refusing to be cowed.

“You made it perfectly clear when you proposed what your expectations were for this arrangement.”

He blinks as if surprised by my response. He leans back slightly but keeps his eyes focused on mine.

“I wasn’t sure how you would feel after last night.”

“We had sex. Really good sex. But you needn’t worry about me imagining that there’s anything else between us.”

I say it so convincingly I almost believe it myself. Telling him now that what happened between us last night did mean something, did make me wonder if there could be more, would only create more friction. It also would accomplish absolutely nothing. I have no desire to try and change a man, to bend him to my will. When I get married again—and I will—it will be to someone who loves me and accepts the love I have to offer in return.

I break eye contact and glance up as a light breeze dances through the leaves of the chestnut trees scattered throughout the cemetery. When that happens, it will also be when I’m not in the middle of a personal crisis, trying to figure out if I want to continue the work I’ve dedicated my life to.

“Relax, Drakos.” I give him a small smile. “I won’t fall in love with you.”

Instead of relief, there’s a quick flash of anger. Before I can say anything else, he nods once and then strides past me and out of the cemetery, leaving me alone amongst the headstones.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Gavriil

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