Page 3 of Inheritance
Curiosity pulled me from the bed, my bare feet brushing against the plush rug as I approached. Heat from the fire kissed my skin, and my fingers hovered over the polished steel of the blade. For a moment, I imagined it in Gabriel’s hands—how effortlessly he would wield it, how devastating he would look. A shiver danced down my spine. Looking closer, I saw it was an old sword, tarnished by time yet meticulously cared for. I imagined it had belonged to one of his Italian aristocratic ancestors, who, of course, must have looked just like him.
Shaking off the thought, I returned to the bed and let out a slow breath, puffing my cheeks. The muted sound of voices filtered through the thick door, followed by the rhythmic click of footsteps. My body tensed, the weight of unease pressing harder against my chest as the footsteps passed. Relief flooded me when they didn’t stop, but it did little to ease the anxiety that remained.
My gaze wandered to Gabriel’s nightstand. Almost without thinking, devilishly curious about what book or sentimental items I might find in there, I reached for the drawer, venturing deeper into his mind, and slid it open. A gun sat inside, shifting slightly. Loose bullets clinked as I quickly shut the drawer. Nothing in this room offered comfort—only reminders and warnings.
The door creaked open, and I froze. Gabriel stepped inside, his broad frame filling the doorway. His gaze locked on mine, expressionless for a moment that felt like an eternity. Then he smiled faintly and shut the door. The tension radiating from him was palpable.
“Getting comfortable?” he asked, his voice smooth but missing its usual edge.
I propped myself up on my elbows, studying him. “Trying to.”
He nodded absently, crossing to the fireplace. His hands slipped into his pockets, and he stared into the flames. The set of his jaw, the stiffness in his shoulders—it said everything he would never put into words unless I pulled them out of him.
“What happened?” I asked softly, sitting up fully now.
He glanced over his shoulder briefly, then back to the fire. “Nothing,” he said, his tone too thin to be convincing.
I tilted my head, refusing to let it go.
He shook his head solemnly, as if he could feel my eyes on him. He let out a low sigh, running a hand through his dark hair. Cautiously, I found myself walking toward him.
“My father,” he began, his voice bitter, “married Caroline off to the Sinclairs after I left.”
His words hit me hard, even before I fully understood their implications. “Caroline… your sister?”
He nodded, his jaw tightening. “She’s only nineteen.”
“And she agreed to this?” I asked.
“She probably thought she had no choice,” he said darkly. “My father planned to marry me to the Sinclairs, one of Ivan’s sisters. When I left, he replaced me with Caroline. I knew he wanted to marry us all off to different families, but I never thought he’d actually do it so quickly. Without me, she didn’t have a chance. She had no one to protect her.”
I leaned into him, pressing my face against his chest, my arms wrapping over his broad shoulders, my fingertips barely meeting behind his neck.
“No one should have to protect their sister from their father. I’m sorry.”
He seemed so distant, yet so present. His steady, calm heartbeat quieted my own nerves. The fire warmed my back, and he warmed the rest of me. Finally, I felt his strong arms around me, his hand at the small of my back.
After another moment, he shifted, and looked down into my eyes.
“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said, his voice softer now. But as the flames danced in the reflection of his impossibly blue eyes, they whispered,I never should have left.
“I have no doubt we’ll get her back and destroy the Sinclairs. I just hope the Caroline I find is still the sister I know.”
I reached up to his perfect jaw, my palm brushing against the stubble of his beard. He closed his eyes and exhaled, his breath flooding me with his scent, his presence. When he opened his eyes again, mine were already waiting.
“I know I can save her, but I’ll need you to help her survive.”
His words hung heavy in the air. My grip on his arm tightened, my own resolve hardening. “I know you’ll get her back,” I said firmly. “And when you do, I’ll see her as my own sister and help her process whatever she’s been through.”
Sophia
Istirred in the bed, opened my eyes groggily. feeling the empty space where the warmth of Gabriel should have been. My hand brushed against the rumpled sheets where he’d lain, and a dull ache settled in my chest.
I squinted at my phone. It was nearly midnight. Had he gotten out of bed the moment I fell asleep? I felt his side again.
Cold.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and caught sight of my suitcase still sitting untouched at the foot of the bed. I pulled out a plain white sweater and leggings.
