Page 97 of Dirty Pool

Michel wasn’t willing to admit it had been a mistake, though, not even as Gabbie stared at him from where she stood at the end of the hallway, her eyes lined with unshed tears like she didn’t want to say the next thing that was about to come out of her mouth.

He knew what she was going to say.

Knew it in his soul.

It still fucking hurt.

The risk in approaching her father was simple—Charles could have killed Michel before he ever even got the chance to tell the man about the things he knew. He’d thought that if he made it clear which side of the lines he stood on, then no one could question his motives here. No one would think he was playing both sides, and maybe it would get him what he wanted in the end.

A pipe dream.

That’s what it was.

Still, Michel had to try.

Now, he was paying for that attempt. And as far as he could see, this was the last option he really had to make use of. Everything else, he had already done. What more could Michel do now to get Gabbie back with him?

Nothing, apparently.

This was it.

And she was about to ruin it.

He stared at Gabbie the same way her father did, waiting for her to finally force that lie out of her mouth. Yeah, he knew she was lying. He could tell by the way her hands shook at her sides, and she kept glancing away from him as her throat jumped with every swallow.

Because she was swallowing her lies, too.

It’s okay, he wanted to tell her. More than anything, he wanted her to know that he didn’t blame her for the choice she was about to make. He wasn’t going to pretend like he knew the shit going on behind these closed doors, and he didn’t doubt that she had her reasons for this mess here. That didn’t make it easier on him.

Not at all.

“Lass, get on with it,” Charles said, his tone firm.

Gabbie nodded, and her gaze drifted to Michel again. Still full of tears that had yet to fall, and cutting him when she blinked, and finally, one of those tears slipped down her cheek. She was quick to wipe it away when her father’s head was turned so that he didn’t see the emotion.

Michel saw it, though.

He saw.

It only confirmed what he already thought, regardless if this was killing him inside, and it was going to hurt even more to walk away from her … she didn’t want this, and she was about to lie to him.

“Da’s right, Michel … it’s for the best if you leave me alone,” Gabbie whispered.

He blinked.

Yeah, she was lying.

It still fucking ached.

“All right,” he heard himself mutter.

Because what else could he do?

“I’m sorry,” Gabbie said quickly.

Michel shook his head. “Don’t be, bella.”

Charles cleared his throat, and his gaze swung back to Michel. “Have you gotten what you wanted, then? If so, I think it’s about time you take your leave before the rest of your lot figures out you made a trip down to speak with me. I hear the Italians are watching us. I hope they’re enjoying the show they’re not getting from me.”