Lucian appeared behind him. “Marietta, we thought you’d left.”
I heard the front door close. Gabriel and his father leaving on their task. To see the woman who had spearheaded the club. To save the woman who had abused him.
“No.” I met Lucian’s eyes. “Tell me how I can help.”
Chapter 18
GABRIEL
“I could hardly believe my ears to hear you announced, but here you are.”
Golden blonde hair arranged in an elaborate coiffure. Luminous skin without flaw. Features designed to evoke worship. I said nothing as the devil walked through the door.
Possessive eyes took me in from tip to stern. “You look as delicious as the last time I saw you, Gabriel. What has it been, a year now?”
“About.”
“Still as vocal as ever.” She laughed lightly as she stroked a delicate hand along the brocade of a chair. She hadn’t aged a day—proof, if any were needed, of what she’d been draining from her victims. There had always been an odd sort of echo to the Vein Ripper’s crimes. “It was always the challenge, making you groan.”
I leaned lazily against the cream and gold wall—my indolent posture at odds with my awareness. I actively monitored the buzzing household spells, even though they could not be used on me, not anymore. But she had done more with less in the past. “I see no reason to be loquacious with you. It was always the challenge, keeping down my lunch.”
“Oh, Gabriel.” She walked to me. “Is that any way to speak to an old friend?”
“You are hardly a friend, Melissande.”
“Come, have a seat.”
I waited for her to move toward the desk before I pushed away from the wall. A few steps from her desk she pivoted, smoothly turning into me, close enough to touch.
“Have you grown, Gabriel, since we last met?”
I could clap at her strategy. “Met? Is that your way of saying the last time you crawled into my town house, begging for attention?”
A laugh bubbled past her lips, her eyes glittering and focused. “You were always my favorite.”
Smarmy bitch.
“The only one to give me amarvelouschase.”
“I don’t recall there being much of a chase.”
“Chasing doesn’t always mean in the physical sense.” She tapped a long perfect finger against a button on my shirt. “Much too plebeian. No, the emotional element has always been more satisfying. The true test of character—who breaks last.”
She moved to circle me. I walked forward and sat behind her desk, in her chair. I idly picked up a handful of documents, then put my feet on the edge.
I could see her lips pucker. She strode to the desk and sat in the guest chair on the other side. “I’ve taught you well, Gabriel.”
“How to be a conniving bitch? Well, I can’t let you take full credit. But have at it, please.” I airily waved my hand holding the papers.
“Though your manners have fallen.”
“What are a few emotional acts of violence among friends, really?”
Her smile was tight. “Our little avenging angel.”
