AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And as I watched unbridled joy overtake her usually sour expression, I couldn’t help but agree.
She was a beautiful ornament formed of shattered glass. To be near her was to be scraped, cut, and battered. But as much as I hated to even think it, that didn’t dull her beauty. If anything, her sharp edges made her shine brighter.
Unfortunately, I had no idea what to do with this revelation.
FIFTEEN
LAYANA
Moonlight broke through tree branches and danced across the ground. A small brick patio waited in the shade beneath strings of fairy lights. A bench sat in the center of the space, its metal shaped in an intricate leaf pattern.
I hurried over to the gorgeous garden bench. This piece proved that Gabriel actually had taste. Okay, his personal style—his hair, his suits—those all spoke to taste, but this was one of the first touches of personality I’d seen in the surroundings he’d chosen for himself.
It was the perfect place for us to shoot.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” I told Gabriel.
I placed the pillow I’d stuffed into my bag onto the seat and draped the blanket I’d had around my neck over the top of the bench. A shiver rippled across my skin. Without the blanket as a scarf, I was beginning to regret leaving my coat in the car.
“This is your cozy nook, where you curl up and read in the shade on a sunny day or under the twinkling starlight,” I said. “Don’t bother denying it. This is the perfect place for it.”
“It’s not for me,” he said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He snapped his gaze away and shoved his hands in his pockets. In that perfectly fitted suit, he looked as in command of the situation as always. Still, discomfort radiated off of him.
“Where would you like to set up your tripod?” he asked.
Why was he ignoring my question? If the bench wasn’t for him, who was it for? Wait…did he have a wife he hadn’t mentioned? That couldn’t be it. She’d be all over the internet, the envy of every woman with a pulse. Except…what ifshedidn’t have a pulse?
Was this a shrine to hisdead wife?Was Gabriel Stryker a widower? That would explain his apathy. She had likely been a lovely woman brimming with inner and outer beauty, and after losing her, Gabriel purged every reminder of her from his life, all the color and happiness.
All that remained was this bench in her honor, safely set away from everyday view, but waiting for him when he sought that connection and memory.
What a sad story, a sad life.
I wanted to ask, to pry, to delve deeper into what made him tick. But also, asking if he was a prick because the love of his life had died wasn’t exactly the best way to get today’s mission on track.
So, swallowing all of my questions—for now—I let him change the subject. “The camera should be at an angle from the bench, but also focusing on it.”
I got to work setting up my ring light and tripod. “You never did tell me—did you see my post?”
“Yes.”
“What did you think?” I turned to look at him.
Something flashed across his face, an expression I couldn’t comprehend.
“I’m told the reception has been positive,” he said in a flat tone. “Your post is doing what we need it to do.”
I knew that without asking. “But what didyouthink?”
He clenched his jaw, like this was the most frustrating thing I could possibly ask, which was absolutely ridiculous.
“I don’t understand your choice in caption,” he said. “What do I have to do with the contestants on your show?”
I blinked at him. “I implied you might be joining our friend group. That’s a nice thing.”
