I still don’t know what to make of this man, this man who says I’m in danger, that he’s the only one who can keep me safe.
As much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m starting to trust him.
CHAPTER 14
THEA
We’re near the windows, and Gabriel is introducing me to someone whose name I’ve already forgotten, when I hear it.
It’s a woman’s voice nearby. She’s speaking in a loud whisper, a stage whisper, almost like shewantsme to hear what she’s saying.
“I mean, she’s pretty, I suppose. But Gabriel has always had such refined taste. I’m surprised that he’d go for someone so…abundant.”
The word lands like a slap.
Abundant.
I’ve heard that one before—along with voluptuous and curvy, and just about every other euphemism people use when they want to say fat but want to retain the veneer of being polite.
My hand tightens around my champagne flute.
“Thea.” Gabriel’s voice is low. He heard it too, and he knows what’s on my mind.
“I’m fine. It’s fine.” The words come out automatically. “It doesn’t matter. People can say whatever they want.”
But I’m not fine.
I’m mad.
And I’m not about to let some Botoxed stranger in Chanel ruin my mood.
I turn slightly, trying to locate the source of the voice. I spot her. She’s blonde, practically skeletal, and clutching a martini with long skinny fingers. She’s talking to another woman with the same build, both of them taking furtive glances in our direction.
Gabriel follows my gaze. His expression goes cold when he realizes where I’m looking.
“Stay here,” he says.
“Gabriel, don’t?—”
But he’s already moving. I watch, frozen, as he covers the dozen or so feet between us and the women. He leans in and says something too quiet for me to hear.
The color drains from the blonde’s face. She stammers something—probably an apology—but Gabriel’s already walking back to me, his hand sliding possessively around my waist.
“What did you say to her?” I whisper.
“That if she wanted to keep her husband’s construction contracts with Moretti Holdings, she’d better learn to keep her mouth shut.”
“You didn’t?—”
“I did.” He looks down at me, his eyes dark. “And I meant it. You’re mine, Thea, which means anyone who disrespects you disrespects me. And I don’t tolerate that.”
He steps closer, placing his hands on my waist.
“Starting tonight, you’re not staff. You’re not the help. You’re not some woman I bought at an auction. You’remywoman. And everyone in this room is going to know it.”
My breath catches. Mywoman. Not myproperty. Notthe help. And notminein theI own you like a piece of furnituresense.
My woman.
