Page 142 of Gabriel
My parents shot each other an exasperated look.
“As long as it isyourchoice to marry Gabriel, that’s good enough for us, dear,” my mom said.
Liana let out a theatrical sigh.
“Well, love blinds us Volkovs too,” Liana said breezily, adjusting one of her rings. “It’s still dramatic, still dangerous—and frankly, it adds to the mythos.”
“Never mind she isn’t really a Volkov,” my mother muttered.
Mother Liana’s gaze slid back to me, sharper now.
“I only ask because once you’re in, you’re in, Amara. You know how our world works. We don’t do half-measures. Not with loyalty. Not with legacy. And definitely not with marriage.” She paused, letting the words settle like dust. “Marriage isn’t a performance.”
I met her eyes without flinching, even though a part of me wanted to.
“Neither is love,” I retorted.
That silenced her.
Just a beat. A blink. A barely there shift in her expression that might have passed for approval.
Then she nodded once, the motion crisp.
“Good,” she said softly. “Because if you’re going to blow up your life for someone, at least make sure it’s worth the fire.”
“Well, Liana,” my father cut in dryly, clearly over it, “thank you for this incredibly uplifting pep talk. Truly. Nothing like existential dread to mark a special occasion.”
Liana didn’t even glance at him. “I’m simply being realistic.”
“You’re being dramatic, Liana,” Mom added mildly, sipping from a paper cup with the resignation of a person who had been through this kind of scene far too many times.
“The two are not mutually exclusive,” she replied, then turned to me again. “All I’m saying is, don’t mistake passion for permanence.”
I exhaled slowly, my chest tightening, but I held my ground.
“I’m not mistaking anything. I know what I’m walking into.”
“Do you?” she murmured, not unkindly.
“Yes, she does, Liana.” My father came to stand next to me, shoulder to shoulder, his presence grounding. “We’ve raised her well, and she’s strong, so stop talking to her like she’s still a child.”
“And he’s a Santos. Amara has chosen well,” Mom said, as if that explained everything. And maybe it did.
“Alright, everyone,” I said, folding my arms tightly across my chest. “You’re acting like we’re negotiating a peace treaty, not talking about love and marriage.” I fixed Liana with a pointed look. “I’ve seen what a good marriage looks like. Yours is a happy one. And my parents? Don’t even get me started on them—they makeThe Notebooklook emotionally repressed.”
Father chuckled, Mother blushed, and Mother Liana arched her brow and said, “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
I scoffed. “You guys are being so dramatic.”
“I don’tdodrama, darling. Iamdrama. But today, I’m playing the supportive matriarch. I even wore neutral tones.”
Kian appeared at the end of the hallway before I could point to her “neutral” gold heels and sleek sunglasses. He held two coffee cups like peace offerings, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Is everyone behaving?” he asked dryly as he handed me one.
The warmth of it seeped into my fingers instantly, and I took a grateful sip.
“So far,” I muttered, casting a wary glance toward where my parents were whispering in a corner like co-conspirators.
