"You look radiant."
"I heard about your new consulting firm, Blair. We’d love to chat."
It’s hilarious, really. The same people who wouldn't give me the time of day a month ago are now practically tripping over themselves to compliment my dress. I handle them with a cool detachment that I know drives them crazy. I’m not the girl whotried too hard anymore. I’m the woman who doesn’t have to try at all.
Then, the air changes.
It turns sour.
Ryder emerges from the crowd near the bar.
He looks like a wreck. His suit hangs off his frame, his skin is gray, and his eyes are bloodshot and wild. He spots us, and for a second, he looks like he’s seeing a ghost. His gaze drops to the white dress. To the ring. To Gabriel’s hand on my waist.
He stumbles over, shoving past a waiter.
"What the fuck is this?" he slurs, stopping a couple of feet away.
The nearby chatter dies instantly when the vultures smell blood.
Gabriel’s hand slides onto my stomach and he splays his fingers right over our baby. It’s reassuring. "Watch your fucking mouth," Gabriel warns, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Show some respect."
Ryder lets out a harsh, broken laugh. He points a shaking finger at me. "Respect? For her? She’s trash from Mulberry, Dad. She’s a charity case I got bored of. What are you doing with her? Playing savior?"
"Actually," I say, stepping forward before Gabriel can end him right here on the high end carpet. "He's playing husband."
Ryder’s mouth falls open. "What?"
"Husband," I repeat, the word tasting like sugar and vengeance.
The color drains from his face so fast I think he might actually pass out.
"You... you're..." He looks from me to Gabriel, horror dawning in his eyes like a slow-motion car crash. "You're fucking my dad?"
"Fucking him?" I let out a low, dark laugh that feels entirely too comfortable in my throat. I take a step closer to Ryder, invading his space until I can smell the fear sweating off him. "Ryder, I’m doing things with him that would make you blush. I’m letting him do things to me that you couldn't even figure out how to ask for."
Ryder flinches, his face turning a sickly shade of gray.
"You said I was boring," I remind him, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You said I was a dead fish. But it turns out, the problem wasn't my libido. It was your skill set." I tilt my head, looking him up and down with pity. "Gabriel doesn't have that problem. He finds spots you couldn't find with a map. And unlike you, he knows how to make me scream."
"Shut up," Ryder chokes out. "Dad, tell her to shut up."
Gabriel moves.
He steps up behind me, a wall of heat and violence. His large hand slides around my waist, splaying flat over my stomach in a possessive claim that I’m sure everyone in the room recognizes.
"Why would I do that?" Gabriel asks, his voice a deep rumble that vibrates through my spine. "She’s telling the truth. She screams my name. Every. Night."
He leans down, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck, right over my pulse, staring his son dead in the eye while he does it.
"And I liked the sound of it so much," Gabriel continues, lifting his head to address the room, "that I decided to keep her."
"Keep her?" Ryder whispers.
"Forever." Gabriel’s hand tightens on my stomach. "I put a ring on her finger, and I put a baby in her belly."
The silence in the room is deafening. Ryder looks at Gabriel’s hand on my stomach, the math finally clicking in his brain.
"She's my wife," Gabriel says coldly. "And she is carrying the heir I’ve been waiting for after you’ve been such a disappointment."
