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What we need to do now is get past this. There’s only one way out that doesn’t end in death.
I hold my hands up to Gabriel. “Untie me. Please? It’s too tight.”
The consortium hears. They shift in their seats while Gabriel undoes the knot and drops the white cloth to the floor. He turns my wrists over one by one, seeing if I can flex my fingers.
“Let me help you with your jacket.”
He freezes again, his body going absolutely still. Jacob puts his hand on Gabriel’s arm. It’s only a few seconds this time.Gabriel shakes himself out of it, then brings my hands to the buttons on his jacket.
I do the unbuttoning, help Gabriel slide the jacket off his shoulders, and lay it on the end of the table.
It’s surreal being in a boardroom in the middle of the night, with the city lights blinking around us and three men I’ve known since I was a baby watching us. They’re impatient. We’re about to have sex in front of them.
Gabriel moves in again and toys with the neckline of my dress. His hands move down to my waist. Jacob angles himself close and reaches out to touch Gabriel. A tiny, jealous part of me wants to slap his hand away. Mostly, I’m glad that he’s on our side. I can’t imagine how awful this would be if he was a stranger.
Jacob smooths Gabriel’s collar. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, handsome.”
Handsome.An old nickname. It shouldn’t affect me at all. Gabriel’s eyes, huge and green, go to Jacob’s. I’m going to wait for him to answer, right up until the words fly out of my mouth. “Why are you saying that? It’s not like you actually care about him.”
Jacob never tried to stay away from the consortium. He’s done his father’s bidding all this time.
“Look.” Jacob keeps his tone level, but there’s offense in it, too. Hurt. I’m probably being unfair. “I know I made some mistakes, but—”
“I don’t care about you.” Only Gabriel Hill could pull off snapping those words in such a gorgeous voice. “Either of you. I care about getting this the fuck over with so I can move on to what’s next.”
His eyes slide away from us, and—shit. He’s still spiraling. We haven’t caught him yet. Wild panic flickers into his eyes. He looks back at me, then away again.
I take a step toward the conference table and look my father in the eye. His mouth is curved in a half-smile. He’senjoyingthis.
“Don’t make us do this. This is sick.” I’m okay, but Gabriel’s not. I can’t stand it.
Chambers has the grace to look down at the table. Newhouse stares at me, his brow furrowed, like I’m a mythical creature come to life.
My father steeples his fingers under his chin. “My daughter, you know very well that you can put a stop to this if you don’t want to continue. You also know that I can’t let Gabriel leave here alive if he decides not to pledge his loyalty to the consortium.”
I draw myself up to my full height. It’s not much with bare feet, but it’s what I have. “If you hurt him, I’ll tell everyone.Everything.”
He frowns, and I feel my childhood fear of his disappointment all the way down to the tips of my toes. It hasn’t gone away. I can stand here and challenge him all I want. I’ll still feel it. “You’ll be a good girl and do as you’re told, Elise.”
All this time, and I’m still the little girl I was. Just as powerless.
Hands on my shoulders. They’re Gabriel’s. He turns me around so I don’t have to look at my disgusting asshole of a father.
Then he’s touching me. My face. My dress. He finds the curves of my body. It’s a pretty brazen move, because he’s not actually feeling me up.
He’s giving me a hug.
I suck in one breath, then another. Furious sobs stick in my throat, but with Gabriel here, I manage to swallow them. Breathe through them. I blink away the tears until they’re gone.
“Fine.” That single word out of Gabriel’s mouth calms the panicked part of me that was about to take over. It’s his party voice. His singsong voice. He sounds slightly bored and a little indulgent, like he’s the one who invited us all here and his guests are getting unruly. “We’ll move on. But we’re doing thismyway.”
He backs me up to the table and lifts me onto it, adjusting his jacket beneath me. Then he wraps his fist around my bun and tugs until I’m flat on my back. My head isn’t touching the table. It’s protected by his jacket.
Next, he drags a chair around next to him.
He doesn’t sit.
Instead, he reaches for the hem of my dress and matter-of-factly pushes it up to my thighs, then my waist. The fabric stays bunched in his hands so that I’m shielded, at least a little, from my father’s prying eyes.
