Page 96 of Dirty Pool

A second passed.

Then, two.

Enough for her heart to pound hard in her chest, and make her stomach do flips. She was straining in the grip of the man holding her back again, but her eyes were blurry from the tears that she refused to let fall.

She wanted him.

God, she wanted Michel.

More than anything.

“Gabbie, come out here, lass,” she heard her father call. “Let her come, Conor.”

The man who had been holding Gabbie back the entire time finally let her go. She was still straining to get out of his grip, so the second his fingers unfurled from her arm, she all but stumbled right into the hallway.

Lifting her gaze, she found Michel ten feet away.

There he stood.

She had no doubt that the two of them were a mirror to one another in those moments. That pain she felt was reflected in him, and her racing heart seemed so loud, she almost wondered if he could possibly hear it.

Her soul …

It, too, screamed.

She was so close to him.

And not nearly close enough.

“Lass, tell the young man what you’ve decided about him,” her father said, “and then maybe we have saved him from a worse fate, aye? No need for the man to go making an arse of himself over a woman who isn’t interested.”

Then, Charles looked Gabbie’s way. His gaze narrowed, and she saw the warning flash in her father’s eyes. It was his silent reminder of their conversation a week before—his threats against Michel if she couldn’t drop him from her life.

It was a war in her mind.

Her heart, too.

“Tell him,” her father said, “so this is one more thing I can finally put to rest before I move onto another, Gabbie. Unless, of course, you want to go the other way we discussed.”

No.

No, she didn’t want that.

It meant Michel dead.

She looked at Michel again, her hands twisting into the wool skirt of her sweater dress because she needed to do something with her hands when she lied to him. If she was going to lie to the love of her life—because it meant saving his—then she needed to make sure her hands were busy, or they might just reach out to him.

“Gabbie?” Michel asked.

Why was life like this?

Why?

SEVENTEEN

This had been a risk.

And maybe a mistake.