Page 5 of Tempting Fate
But Felicity, she’d only cared about those she loved.
She’d been shy, panicked, and yet she’d fought the most valiantly for a happy ending. Not only for Nora and Titus, but for everyone who’d been a part of that tense standoff between the Fauves and the law.
It was her impassioned plea for benevolence that’d melted some of the fortress of ice around Gabriel’s heart. He’d made the decision then and there to give the gold to Titus and Nora in exchange for a favor.
A favor he currently collected upon.
Although most men joined a gang such as the Fauves for their own selfish or desperate reasons, Gabriel and Raphael Sauvageau never had that luxury. They’d been born to inherit their father’s power, his fortune, and his enemies. What they hadn’t realized until after their father had died, was the biggest threat to them was posed by their own men.
Beasts only followed whom they deemed worthy to lead.
A leader, once overthrown, was almost always devoured by the pack. Ripped apart by teeth and claw, or blade and bullets.
The Fauves were no different.
And so, Gabriel and his brother hatched a plan to fake their own deaths and abscond to distant shores with new identities, to enjoy the fortunes they’d amassed from profiteering off of the evil and the elite.
Who were, more often than not, one and the same.
Because Raphael had one of the most recognizably handsome faces in London, and Gabriel was possessed of equally identifiable but lamentably hideous features, staying in England was deemed too dangerous.
Establishing new identities and an escape plan had been effortless.
However— in the meantime— leaving Mercy and Felicity Goode had become an impossible task.
Raphael— now living as Remy Severand— was dashing and deviant enough to be able to sweep the adventurous Mercy onto a sapphic duchess’s yacht to travel the world in luxury.
Whilst Gabriel stayed behind, lurking in the hospital as the genius surgeon crafted him an entirely new face during several complicated— and often experimental— procedures.
The plan was to meet his brother and sister-in-law in the West Indies, bringing the rest of their hidden fortune along with him by way of America.
But first… Gabriel had some unfinished business to take care of.
Finding the villain Marco Villanueve was paramount, as the man was the only one capable of keeping the Fauves at all organized in a way that might threaten the Goodes and their futures.
Eventually, Mercy and his brother might return to England, revealing the secret identities to Felicity.
He’d be long gone by then, having discharged his duty.
Gabriel caught a glimpse of his head in a decorative mirror on the office wall and winced. His healing flesh punished him with stabs and throbs of electric pain at the slightest motion.
After his third surgery, the bandages surrounding most of his head made him appear like a mummy… one who leaked blood and fluids from beneath his wrappings.
A secret fear spiked deep within his chest.
What if he was never anything but a horror to behold?
Dr. Conleith’s voice broke through his bout of uncharacteristic anxiety.
“Like I was saying before, once the grafts above your brow and along your cheek are healed, speaking should be a great deal easier and exponentially less painful. Then I believe we’ll finally be able to move on to crafting you a new nose.”
He approached Gabriel cautiously, his brow furrowed. “It’ll be the most painful procedure yet. I’ll mold the skin from beneath your arm where, blessedly, you haven’t any tattoos. But the skin will have to remain attached to your arm for blood flow. This means you’ll spend weeks in bed with your head trapped to the side and your elbow lodged behind your head. I won’t lie to you. The process will be— well— nothing less than excruciating.”
Gabriel stared at the door through which Felicity had departed. If he’d been a kettle this morning, boiling with the pressure of boredom and unrelenting, agonizing pain, stress over the lack of news from his brother, and rage at Marco’s betrayal…
He found himself quite distorted by her unconscious expression of gratitude. Instead of boiling over, he’d felt infused by fragrant tea leaves and rich cream to become something else entirely.
Her voice made him forget his throbbing head and itching flesh as it knitted together. The sight of her cooled his rage.
