With more enemies lining up to kill him than he can count, a playboy billionaire must hire the only woman capable of keeping him alive, even if she hates his guts.
Gabriel Gerard's life is full of gorgeous women, expensive cars, and infinite wealth...
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To Asher and Jade's disappointment, Gabriel said he was going home. He left them in a gaggle of girls enamored with them both. The citizens of New York were much more open to sexual experiences since the attacks. Everyone seemed to go one way or the other: extreme piousness or excessive hedonism. It was obvious which way his brother and Olivia's sister had chosen. But tonight, was the first time that Gabriel may have been disgusted by their excessive behavior. He knew that Olivia was right but wasn't sure what to do about it.
When he returned to his penthouse, he went straight for the granite bar. There was a bottle of cheap Irish whiskey that Jade had asked why he purchased. It was his dad's favorite when he couldn't afford better. Gabriel ran his hand down the bottle and gave it a quarter turn. Behind the bar began to hum, as the entire stone fixture revolved into the secret room behind it. Confident that a matching bar missing only the Irish whiskey bottle was on the other side, he stepped into his sanctuary knowing no one could find him.
The room wasn't large because it had to fit into a space unnoticeable to the penthouses' other inhabitants. The size of a study, Gabriel had thought about men who had secret rooms and passages built in the mansions and then killed the workers, who built them, so no one would know. Instead, Gabriel had done the construction himself at night with a little help from magic. He hardly slept anymore. When he did, he would sometimes wake up screaming from the nightmares that had plagued him over the last year. They were so bad that he refused to risk anyone else witnessing the state of terror he would wake up in. So, he only slept alone.
Gabriel absently rubbed the jade in his ring before sliding it onto his finger. He crossed to the floor to a twelve-foot ceiling bookcase with snake mosaics creeping up the sides and pulled a green leather-bound tome from a packed shelf. He carried it to the huge walnut desk with wolves carved into the feet in the center of the room. His steps were silent on the thick Persian rug that covered the entire floor. Fanning the book open, he found exactly what he was looking for: the protection spell. He knew the base level 'armo' but still tried to cast the next level 'armas'. He'd learned all of the spells in the beginner's white mage spellbook but couldn't seem to get to the next level. Failing again, he slammed the book closed in frustration.
As he paced the room, Gabriel felt warmth radiating from his chest. He tore open the top of his black shirt and found his cross glowing; the diamonds glittered like stars among the rubies bleeding like molten lava. His eyes went to the red tome on the shelf next to the green's vacancy. His chest burned as he approached the book. He knew his mother was a red mage and could practice both white and black magic. He had hoped he wasn't the same. He wanted to be a white mage. He wanted there to be no question that his magic was good. Healing. But now he knew he had no choice. He took the beginner's black magic spellbook from the shelf and began to study. The time for defensive tactics had passed. It was time for building an offense.
