The door clicks open behind me, and I watch in the mirror as Gabriel walks in.
He stops dead.
He’s wearing a tuxedo that fits him so well, it makes my mouth water. He’s all broad shoulders, muscles, and dark intent as he stalks toward me. He looks lethal. He looks like the kind of man someone’s mother would warn them to stay away from.
Notmymother, but a good mother who cared about their child.
His gray eyes rake over me, starting at my heels and traveling up slowly, possessively, until they lock on my face. The heat in his gaze is heavy and feels like tingles and sparks along my skin. Like he’s dragging his tongue coated in pop rocks up the inside of my thigh instead of just his eyes.
"Jesus," he breathes, the word sounding more like a curse than a prayer.
"Too much?" I ask, turning to face him. I smooth my hands over my hips, feeling the cool silk against my palms.
"Never," he growls, closing the distance between us. He doesn't stop until he’s crowding my space, and I breathe in a lungful of his cologne. "If we didn't have to leave in five minutes, I’d rip that off you right now."
"And ruin it?" I arch an eyebrow. "I think it’s worth more than my first car."
"I’d buy you a thousand more." He reaches out, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. His touch is rough, calloused, and it sends a jolt straight to my toes. "You look dangerous. Like you’re about to start a riot."
I let out a little laugh. "I kind of hope I do," I say. “Could you imagine Madeline Pemberton throwing a chair through a window?”
He smirks, that dark, arrogant tilt of his lips that makes my stomach do a traitorous little flip.
"Let’s see how the night goes," he says. "Because I intend to cause a lot of trouble tonight."
He offers me his arm.
"Ready to get your revenge, Mrs. Hollis?"
I take his arm, feeling the solid muscle beneath the expensive wool.
"Let's go make a scene."
The momentthe valet opens the door and my white heel hits the pavement, it already feels so much different than the last time I was here. I’m not walking ten paces behind a boyfriend who’s ashamed of me, trying to make myself smaller. I’m walking beside a husband who looks ready to murder anyone who looks at me wrong.
Gabriel’s hand settles on the small of my back as we walk through the double doors. It’s not a gentle touch. It’s a brand. His fingers splay wide, the heat searing my bare skin where he’s slid it into the opening of my dress, claiming me for everyone to see.
The Emerald Hills Country Club smells exactly the same as it did the night my life imploded.
Like pine needles. Roasting meat. The cloying, suffocating scent of old money. What doesold moneysmell like? Faded expensive perfume, furniture polish, and sort of metallic, like blood.
Yeah, I’m basically a bloodhound now with my new pregnancy sense of smell.
When we walk in, the room goes dead silent.
It looks different, though, all decked out for Christmas with glittering silver, white, and black decorations and at least a dozen trees scattered throughout the room.
Conversations die mid-sentence when we step into the room. Forks freeze halfway to mouths.
Everyone stares.
They see the dress. They see the ring—the massive, ostentatious diamond that catches the chandelier light and throws it back with a vengeance. But mostly, they see him. They see the way Gabriel Hollis is looking at me. Like I’m the only thing in the room that matters. Like he’d choke the life out of every person in this room just to ensure I had enough air to breathe.
"Chin up," Gabriel whispers against my ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there and I shiver. "Let them look. Let them see how strong you are. How unbreakable."
I tip my chin a little higher.
"That's my girl."
