Instead, I hid. I lied. I used her body to distract her, trying to bind her so tightly that the truth wouldn't matter when it finally came out.
I've never been a coward before. I've faced death, faced enemies who wanted to destroy everything I built, faced the darkest parts of myself without flinching. But Poppy... Poppy made me a coward. The thought of losing her was so unbearable that I chose deception over honesty, control over trust.
And now I'm paying the price.
Around noon, Josiah appears in my doorway.
"You look like hell," he observes, stepping into the study without waiting for an invitation. "I heard the florist left."
"She went to see her mother."
"Is that what she told you?" He settles into the chair across from my desk, his expression carefully neutral. "And you believed her?"
"I don't have a choice."
"You have plenty of choices. You could have her followed. You could—"
"No." The word comes out sharper than I intended. "She asked me not to follow her. I'm honoring that request."
Josiah's eyebrows rise. "Since when do you honor requests that conflict with your interests?"
"Since now."
He studies me for a long moment, something shifting in his expression. Surprise, maybe. Or concern. "You really have fallen for her, haven't you? This isn't just an obsession anymore."
I don't answer. I don't need to.
"Gabriel." Josiah leans forward, his voice dropping. "I've known you my entire life. I've watched you build an empire, watched you eliminate anyone who got in your way. I've never seen you like this—paralyzed, uncertain, willing to cede control to someone else."
"What's your point?"
"My point is that this woman has compromised you. Whatever she decides, whatever she does with the information she has, you've made yourself vulnerable in ways that could destroy everything."
"I know."
"And you're willing to accept that risk?"
I think about Poppy. About the way she looked at me in the garden, tears streaming down her face, demanding to know why I didn't trust her. About the way she felt in my arms, soft and warm and achingly real. About the way she saw me—truly saw me—from the very beginning.
"Yes," I say. "I'm willing to accept that risk."
Josiah shakes his head slowly. "Then I hope she's worth it. Because if she's not—if she betrays you, if she goes to the police, if she disappears with Zach—"
"She won't."
"How can you be sure?"
I can't. That's the whole point. That's what trust means—believing in someone even when you can't be certain, even when they have every reason to hurt you.
"I just am," I say. "Now leave me alone."
Josiah rises, pausing at the door. "For what it's worth, I hope you're right. I hope she comes back." He hesitates. "But if she doesn't, you need to be prepared for what comes next."
He leaves without waiting for a response.
I pour another whiskey and stare at the wall.
***
