Page 46 of My Bloody Valentine

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Gabe shakes his head.

“Think about this logically.” Gabe paces in front of the display cases. “She’s not some random woman you can dispose of. When you let her go, she’ll run straight to the police.”

I cross my arms, leaning against the counter. “You don’t understand what’s happening between us.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly. You’ve lost perspective.” He stops, turning to face me. “An established food critic vanishes, and you don’t think people will ask questions?”

“Maya’s different.” The coffee cups steam beside me, untouched. “She tastes the darkness in my work. Craves it.”

“Stockholm syndrome isn’t acceptance, Adrian.”

My fist slams onto the counter. “This isn’t about that. You should see her when we’re together. The way she responds to pain, to pleasure. She’s embracing who she truly is.”

“And what happens when the fog clears?” Gabe steps closer, lowering his voice. “When she remembers you’ve murdered people and put their blood in your chocolates?”

“She already knows.” I smile, remembering how Maya’s body arched under my touch last night. “And she still begs for more.”

“You’re delusional.”

“No.” I straighten up. “For the first time, I’m seeing clearly. Maya understands the art and the necessity of what I do. She’s not fighting it anymore.”

Gabe runs a hand through his hair. “This isn’t one of your fucked-up games. Her life, her career—everything she’s built could destroy us.”

“She won’t expose me.” I pick up Maya’s coffee. “She’s in too deep now. The Maya you’re worried about doesn’t exist anymore. She’s becoming something new. Something beautiful.”

“Keep me out of this completely.” Gabe’s jaw clenches. “My name, club, any connection to you—she can’t know about any of it.”

I set Maya’s coffee down, the liquid rippling from the force. “You think I’d risk your safety?”

“I think you’re not thinking clearly anymore.” He steps into my space. “Promise me. Maya won’t hear my name until she chooses to stay with you. No manipulation, no restraints, no threats. She has to want this life.”

“Fine.” I meet his gaze. “Until Maya accepts who she is—who we are together—your name won’t cross my lips. She’ll never know about the club or our connection.”

“Swear it.” His fingers dig into my shoulder. “Because if she runs to the police, I’m not going down for your obsession.”

“You have my word.” I brush his hand away. “Maya won’t know you exist until she’s ready. Until she’s mine completely, freely choosing this path.”

Gabe searches my face, then nods once. “Don’t make me regret trusting you, Adrian.”

I tilt my head, a smirk playing on my lips. “Or what, you’ll kill me?”

Gabe’s eyes narrow, but I catch the slight twitch of his lips.

“That’s rich coming from you.” I tap my fingers against the counter. “Let’s not pretend you’d get the chance. You’d be dead before you even tried.”

“Careful, Adrian.” Gabe shifts his weight, but there’s a familiar glint in his eye. “I’ve picked up a few tricks over the years.”

“Please. I’ve seen your work. You’re messy, impulsive.” I circle around him, enjoying our dance. “I’m precise. Calculated.”

“You kidnapped a high-profile food critic.” He scoffs, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Real precise.”

“At least I don’t leave evidence scattered inside a jazz club.” I raise an eyebrow. “How many bodies are buried under that stage now?”

“Four.” He grins. “The acoustics have never been better.”

I shake my head, chuckling. “Amateur. Though I’ll admit, that basement of yours is convenient.”

“Not all of us can afford fancy chocolate boutiques to hide our extracurriculars.” Gabe runs his finger along one of my display cases. “Some of us have to be creative.”

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