Page 65 of The Wrong Groom

“What’s wrong?” he says quietly. “You seem… upset.”

I open my mouth to reply, but can’t find my voice. It takes me a moment to stammer, “N-nothing.”

Gabriel’s frown deepens. “Hey. You can talk to me, you know.”

I swallow, nodding. My gaze travels past him, finally landing on the wraparound windows, although I don’t really see the view beyond.

“Alexis,” he probes gently. “Did something happen?” His gaze flits down to my hands, resting on the edge of the table. Immediately, his jaw goes rigid.

Surprised, I glance down. There are red marks on my arm from where my father grabbed me. His grip must’ve been even tighter than I’d thought. I grimace, running my hand over the outline of his fingers. That looks like it’ll bruise.

There’s fury on Gabriel’s face. “Who did that to you?”

He’s intent on this, unrelenting. He’s not going to let it go. There’s no way I can just brush it off.

“It was my father,” I whisper reluctantly. “I ran into him on the way in.”

Chapter 21

Gabriel

Alexis’s words wash over me, and it takes a moment for them to fully sink in. Then the anger hits.

Jonathan fucking Beaumont. That controlling bastard.

It’s been a long, long time since I was this furious about anything. I stare at the faint bruises forming on Alexis’s arm, their purplish hue stark against her pale skin. She’s trying to cover it with her hand, to pretend it doesn’t matter, but I can’t unsee it.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she tells me hurriedly, her voice small. “It’s⁠—”

I don’t let her finish. I throw my napkin down on the table and get to my feet. “Excuse me for a moment.”

I turn on my heel and stride back toward the host’s stand, toward the elevators. I hear the chair scrape against the floor as Alexis scrambles after me.

“It’s okay,” she says in a rush. “It’s n-not a big deal. I swear. You d-don’t have to⁠—”

I don’t stop or even hesitate. There’s something primal urging me on, a protective rage simmering in my chest that won’t settle.

Jonathan is waiting by the elevator banks, one eye on his watch, an air of impatience about him. The sight of him fuels my anger, the flames burning hotter.

I march straight up to him. “Jonathan.”

He glances up as I approach, his expression morphing into a pleasant smile. That only pisses me off more. This man puts on a good face for people he wants to do business with, but can’t be bothered to treat his own daughter with respect.

“Gabriel,” he says, extending a hand for me to shake. “What a nice surprise.”

I don’t take his hand. Instead, I step up to him, my voice cold and deliberate. “Not from my perspective.”

His smile falters, confusion flitting through his eyes. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes. There is.” An image flashes through my mind of the marks on Alexis’s arm, the frightened look on her face, and my resolve hardens. “We need to have a conversation about how you treat my wife.”

Jonathan’s mouth tightens for a second, but then his expression smooths into something cool and dismissive. “Whatever issues my daughter invented to stir up drama, you needn’t concern yourself⁠—”

“She didn’t invent anything,” I interrupt coldly. “I saw the evidence of your confrontation myself, and it’s clear to me that you, Mr. Beaumont, are an absolute disgrace.”

Behind me, I hear Alexis’s sharp intake of breath. Jonathan snorts, his demeanor dismissive. “You’re overreacting. I barely touched her.”

“If you ever lay a hand on her again, I will make certain you pay for it.”