His lips graze my temple. "It’s just a formality, little bird."
The pen scratches across the line as I sign the last page and set it down.
Gabriel picks up the folder immediately. He closes it, tapping the edge against the marble counter to straighten the pages.
A look crosses his face. It’s fleeting, gone before I can truly figure out what it is, but it looks like… victory. Not the satisfying kind he had when we left the fight club. This is darker. Smug. Like the cat who just swallowed the canary whole.
"All done?" I ask, the prickle on my neck returning.
"All done," he says. "My attorney will handle the rest."
He sets the folder aside, dismissing it completely. His full attention turns back to me, eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that steals the air from the room.
"Now," he says. "About your business."
"What about it?"
"I listened to you on the phone earlier. You’re good at the spin. You took a negative—Ryder’s rumors—and turned it into a selling point about a pivot in your business."
"Yeah, that’s my expert level survival skills," I say with a little laugh.
"It’s more than that. You’re good at narrative control." Gabriel moves fully into my space again. He grips my chin, tilting my face up. "I have associates. People in my circle who have problems with their image."
"You mean the Savage Society," I say.
His lips quirk. "I mean businessmen who operate in complex environments. They need events. Charities. Galas. But more importantly, they need someone who can manage the optics. Someone who can make the ugly look pretty and upstanding."
Staring at him, I try to process the offer. "You want me to do PR for criminals?"
"I want you to do crisis management for powerful men," he corrects. "Men who pay in cash and value discretion above all else. They don't care about Ryder’s rumors. They care about loyalty and expertise. And they trust me."
He runs a hand down my arm, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
"If I vouch for you, you’re in. You’ll make more on one contract with them than you would on ten social media influencers from the country club."
I look at my mood board. The holiday gala for the shelter. It’s good work. Honest work.
But forty thousand dollars is gone. My reputation in the sunlight world is in tatters.
And Gabriel is offering a kingdom in the shadows.
"What kind of work?" I ask.
"Think of it like laundering reputations," he says bluntly. "Cole Callahan needs a charity front to smooth over some zoning issues in Mulberry. Romeo needs a scholarship fund established to get the city council off his back about the warehouse district. They need a face that looks like sunshine to hide the storm."
His grip on my chin tightens slightly.
"You’re perfect for it. You know what it’s like to be looked down on. You know what it’s like to have to smile when you want to scream. You can sell them to the world."
It’s a deal with the devil. I know it. I’m agreeing to be the mask for monsters.
But looking at Gabriel—this man who carries my sins, who insures my life, who destroys my enemies—I realize something terrifying.
Being in the light doesn't appeal to me anymore. The light burned me.
"I’ll do it," I say. "I’ll help them."
Gabriel smiles. It’s genuine, warm, and utterly terrifying.
