seemed...very nice,’ Bryn answered him uncertainly as they stepped into the lift together.
‘Nice is not a word I would ever use to describe my brother,’ Gabriel rasped. ‘Annoying, irritating, sometimes infuriating, but never anything as insipid as “nice”.’ Even as he said it Gabriel knew he was being unfair to Rafe; after all, his brother had been the one to warn him that Bryn Jones was Sabryna Harper after Michael had decided against doing so.
‘Both your brothers were far more polite to me than I could ever have expected, in the circumstances,’ she murmured softly as they stepped out of the lift and walked down the hallway to Gabriel’s office.
Gabriel shot her a sideways glance. ‘Than I led you to believe, perhaps?’
‘Well... Yes.’
He drew in a sharp breath at the speculation in Bryn’s tone. ‘I advise you not to complicate an already impossible situation by falling for the charms of one of my brothers!’ he bit out harshly.
‘I wasn’t— I didn’t— Why would you even think I might do that?’ Bryn reacted with predictable accusation.
‘You already know the answer to that question, Bryn,’ Gabriel murmured as they entered his office, closing the door firmly behind them before turning Bryn in his arms, his hands resting lightly on the slenderness of her hips.
‘Do I?’
‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘But just so that there’s no misunderstanding—if any of the D’Angelo bothers is going to be allowed to kiss these delectable lips today, then it’s going to be me,’ Gabriel assured her gruffly as he raised one of his hands to run a fingertip gently over her fuller, sensuous bottom lip.
Her eyes darkened, cheeks suffusing with colour. ‘I’m not interested in being kissed by either Raphael or Michael,’ she breathed softly.
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Gabriel’s hand moved beneath her chin and tilted her face up towards his, his other arm moving lightly about her waist as he moulded the softness of her curves against his much harder ones. ‘How about me, Bryn? Are you interested in kissing me?’
‘Gabriel...’ she groaned breathily.
It took every particle of willpower Gabriel possessed not to just take that kiss as he felt the way Bryn’s body trembled against his, but he knew that he couldn’t, wanting, needing Bryn to make the first move. ‘A single kiss, Bryn,’ he encouraged throatily. ‘For luck. To the success of the exhibition this evening.’ His breath caught in his throat as he waited for her answer.
Bryn gazed up at him searchingly, longing, aching to once again feel Gabriel’s lips on hers, to lose herself in that pleasure. At the same time as she knew that a single kiss wouldn’t be enough, that she wanted so much more from Gabriel than just passion and pleasure. So very much more. And that Gabriel didn’t have any more than that to give her.
‘I can’t,’ she breathed softly as she pushed against his chest to be released.
Something dark and primal moved in the depths of his eyes as his arms tightened about her. ‘Can’t or won’t, Bryn?’ he rasped harshly.
She closed her eyes briefly before answering him. ‘Let me go, Gabriel.’
His mouth thinned, a nerve pulsing in the tightness of his jaw. ‘Why are you doing this, Bryn?’ he groaned. ‘Why are you making us both suffer because of your stubbornness?’
This wasn’t about Bryn being stubborn; it was so much more than that—she felt so much more than that. ‘You know why.’
‘Because you’re worried about your mother,’ Gabriel rasped. ‘Because of how you believe she would feel about the two of us being together.’
Tears burned in her eyes. ‘And you don’t think that’s important?’ she choked. ‘You believe that I should just take what I want and to hell with how it affects anyone else?’
‘If I’m what you want, then, yes, damn it, that’s exactly what I think you should do!’ His eyes glittered darkly.
Bryn gave a shake of her head. ‘You said it yourself, Gabriel. This is an impossible situation that doesn’t need to be made any more complicated than it already is.’
‘And when I said it I was warning you not to take Rafe’s flirtation seriously,’ he grated harshly.
Bryn blinked back the heat of tears. ‘Gabriel, we only have one last day together to get through. Do you think we could try to do that without arguing?’
His expression sharpened. ‘You think I’m just going to gracefully bow out of your life after tonight?’
She tensed. ‘I was under the impression— Eric told me weeks ago that you would be returning to the Paris gallery after the opening night of the New Artists Exhibition.’
‘Did he?’ Gabriel gave a humourless smile.
Bryn looked up at him searchingly, a sick feeling forming in the pit of her stomach as he met her gaze unblinkingly. ‘You don’t intend going back to Paris tomorrow?’ she guessed weakly.
‘No, I don’t,’ he answered with satisfaction. ‘In fact, Rafe, Michael and I were discussing that very thing when you arrived. Michael is flying to New York tomorrow to take over the gallery there for a month, Rafe is going to Archangel in Paris and I’m staying right here to oversee the rest of the New Artists Exhibition and auction.’
And Bryn knew that the exhibition was being opened to the public tomorrow, the paintings to be on display until they were included in the next Archangel auction in two weeks’ time.
Which meant that Gabriel was going to be in London for at least those same two weeks, possibly longer—and his very presence in London would continue to be such a torment and torture that she wouldn’t know a moment’s peace.
‘Let me go, Gabriel,’ she instructed. ‘Please,’ she added as his arms remained firmly about her waist. ‘I have to be at the coffee shop by ten o’clock.’
He frowned darkly as he slowly released her. ‘You’re working today?’
‘Of course I’m working today,’ she dismissed impatiently as she stepped away from him, finally able to breathe again now that she wasn’t pressed up against the disturbing length of his body. ‘I haven’t sold any of my paintings yet, and I still have my rent to pay at the end of the month,’ she added ruefully.
Gabriel moved to lean back against the front of his desk. ‘As of this morning, one of your paintings has a reserved sticker on it.’
Her gaze sharpened. ‘It does?’
Gabriel nodded. ‘Michael wants it.’
Her eyes widened. ‘He does?’
Gabriel smiled ruefully. ‘Hmm.’
‘Which one?’
‘The rose.’
The dying red rose, Bryn’s representation of the death of hopes and dreams rather than just the flower itself.
Did the austere Michael D’Angelo, a man who gave the appearance of being so totally self-contained, a man who surely had no hopes and dreams to die, appreciate the full meaning of her painting?
‘That’s— I’m flattered,’ Bryn murmured softly.
Gabriel nodded grimly. ‘You should be. Michael’s private art collection is very exclusive. I have every reason to believe that Lord Simmons is very interested in purchasing one too.’
‘That’s...amazing.’ Bryn’s eyes glowed excitedly as she reached out and grasped his hands impulsively. ‘This is really going to happen, isn’t it, Gabriel? I’m really going to sell some of my paintings, maybe even be able to paint full-time!’
‘It’s as real as it gets, yes,’ Gabriel confirmed