Page 63 of In Control

“Not you,” I say, meaning every word.

Gabe was right. There’s something about this woman. Like she controls all the electricity in the room, all the light and the oxygen.

She could no sooner be a bit part, a side-kick, than someone like Gabriel.

A tall, skinny waiter arrives with a tray full of entrees and we’re silent while he lays them across the crisp linen tablecloth.

When he’s done, Gabriel takes an olive and pops it in his mouth.

“I always found the beast far more attractive than the prince,” he says.

And therein lies the problem. An omega like Gabe will always be prey to every monster out there, beautiful or beastly. It’s what concerns Esra the most.

“I’m afraid, it’ll only be a light meal,” Gabe tells Sophia. “I can’t eat anything heavy before a performance.”

She then asks him a series of questions about his dancing as we finish the starter and make our way to the main.

By the time we’ve finished the food, I think I know more about Gabriel’s career than I ever have done in our ten years together.

“What will you do afterwards?” Sophia asks him, as entranced by my omega as I am.

“Afterwards?” I ask.

“A ballet dancer can’t dance forever,” Gabe says with a hint of comedy that seems to fall flat. Sadness flashes through his bond before he shuts it down. A sadness that’s all too familiar now, a sadness I’ve been trying to understand.

“It must be hard to contemplate stopping something you love.”

“Yes, but we all grow old. It’s the bitter irony of life.”

“When?” I ask, the sadness infecting me, seeping into my gut. “How much longer do you have?”

“A year, two or three if I stay injury free.”

So soon. Shit. I’ve been so fucking blind.

“What will you do, Gabe?” I ask and he looks up at me, vulnerability shining in those emerald eyes of his, so usually fierce and defiant.

“Oh, it won’t be the end of me, Ro. They’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming … or hand me a job as a choreographer.” He manages a smile.

And I want to wrap my arms around him and make everything better. Like I always do. It’s Sophia, though, who rests her head against his shoulder.

“You’ll never stop being the best ballet dancer,” she says.

“Now that is true.” Gabriel pushes his plate away. “Now as nice as this was, pretty little thing, this is where I have to leave you. Duty calls.”

“Of course.”

I wave the waiter over and settle up, and we walk out to the car. The sun dips low in the sky painting the shop windows golden and the air blows cool.

“Thank you for dinner,” Sophia says, fastening her denim jacket around her body. “Call me,” she says to Gabe, going in for a kiss.

“Hang on,” he says, grabbing her by each elbow. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home.”

“Ro will drive you.”

“I can grab a cab.”

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