Page 92 of Corrupted Empire

There is a knock on the door.

It’s Gabriel. “This is your ten-minute warning.”

“I’m ready,” I call to him. “You can come in.”

Gabriel enters, and his jaw drops when he sees me. I smile coquettishly and do a little twirl.

“I thought I’d try not making us late for once,” I tease. “What do you think?”

He crosses the room, inky eyes swallowing me up with every step. Clara and Sandra take the opportunity to slink out into the hall, and I don’t blame them. It is starting to get seriously hot in here.

Gabriel’s hands skim over my waist, and he pulls me tight to him. I think about that afternoon a few days ago, when we stood in the nursery of our unborn child and confessed our love to each other. Hearing those words was a balm to the part of my heart that still ached from our overdrawn game of push-and-pull. The only problem is that now I don’t want to go anywhere or do anything—I just want to make love and eat Doritos in bed.

“You look good enough to eat,” Gabriel murmurs into my ear.

“Don’t think that you won’t be doing just that once this shindig is over,” I whisper back. He hums appreciatively into the skin of my throat and then backs away. There is a strange look in his eyes, one that I struggle to decipher. It’s almost...guarded. It looks out of place for this tender moment.

“What’s wrong?” I say.

Gabriel’s jaw tics. He goes to the window and looks out, his hands thrust in his pockets. I imagine painting him like that.Portrait of a Mood Swing.

I follow Gabriel to the window and rest my hand on his arm. We both stare out at the rolling green lawn, at the bruised purple sky, and the mist gathering above the grass.

“There is something I have to tell you,” Gabriel begins. “I’m about to crown you queen of the city, and if I’m going to do that, I can’t lie to you.”

My heart stops on a dime. Whatnow?

I picture myself stuffing the words back in his mouth. It’s not that I would rather turn the other cheek when it comes to the horrors of this life, but right at this second, I’m just not ready to hear whatever it is. I’m already vibrating with nerves about this dinner party. Half of the people there probably think I’m some common bimbo who trapped Gabriel with a baby. I bet none of them think I’m the right person for the job.

“Gabriel…” I start to tell him to stop, but he turns to me and places a hand on either arm.

“You have to know,” he says. There is a wildness in his eyes now. “The reason Felicity has been targeting you…The reason she sent you those strange texts…” Gabriel forces the next few words out, even though it looks like they burn as they cross his tongue. “Felicity Huffman is your mother.”

Everything stops for one second. My heart, my brain, my breathing. It all stops on a dime, and when it starts up again, the panic sets in.

“No…” I shake my head, backing out of his grasp. “That’s not possible. I had a mother. I sat by her bedside while she died of what I thought was cancer.” I point at him. “You were the one who found out that my father had been poisoning her. You know she existed!”

“That was your father’s mistress,” he replies. “He left Felicity when he moved you to New York, but you were too young to really remember her. I had my men search out your original birth certificate and—”

“What about our dads, though?” I spout. “They were friends! Don’t you think my dad would have mentioned that your dad’s new squeeze was his ex-wife?”

He steps toward me, and I step back, sending him a warning look.

Gabriel sighs. “Felicity is a world-class psychopath who lives to manipulate those around her. I expect when she popped up on my father’s arm, she and your father made an agreement to keep their past a secret. She was looking for a first-class ticket to the top, and he was looking to relieve his guilty conscience from dumping her in Kansas all those years before. Of course, that’s just my speculation, but—”

“How long have you known?” My voice booms through the room.

He meets my gaze unflinchingly. “Silvano told me after the ambush.”

Anger sends a hot flush through me. “Gabriel, that was nearly two weeks ago.”

“Yes, but—”

“For the past two weeks you’ve been lying to me, and now you drop this bombshell on me right before this important dinner?” I yell, tears clinging to my lower lashes. I’m two seconds away from turning into a swamp monster. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I point to the door. “Get out. I’m not going to this dinner!”

My chest is too tight. I need to get this dress off. My eyes sting. I just want to curl up in bed and cry, but I can’t do that while Gabriel is still here. I’m so angry at him for not telling me.

Gabriel stands a little taller, and rather than looking sheepish as I expected, his features hammer out into a stern frown. He steps closer. I step back. He steps closer. I step back. We continue this dance until my back is against the wall, and he is breathing down an inch from my face.

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