Between the Spirit and the Dust

Chapter Eight

“Don't you think that you’re being a little childish? 

He raised an eyebrow at her before standing up and kissing her cheek. He asked, teasingly, “Don’t I even get a ‘hello’ before you start verbally attacking me? 

“Hello, nice to see you back blah blah blah,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively. A dark look crossed her face before she masked it with a saccharine sweet smile and continued, “Don’t play innocent with me, it doesn’t suit you. I’m not the only one who’s aware of your reappearance, you know. You’ve made sure that the whole nation is aware that you’re back. And that includes Daddy Dearest.”

He sighed, sitting back down and tucking back into his filet mignon. He pursued his lips as he regarded the eight thousand dollar dining table that he had recently shipped back to the US. It had looked absolutely wonderful in that charming little shop on Bond Street. Was it a mistake to have bought the table? It didn’t seem to go very well with the rest of the apartment 

“Are you listening to me?” She sat down next to him and tugged at his sleeve. Really, was it too much to ask for a quiet dinner?

“What do you want?”

Pleased at regaining his full attention, she said, “I want you to drop this obsession that you have with Emily Wilkins.”

“And why would I do that?”

She frowned at him, the disapproval on her face so resembled his father’s that he ached to punch it away from her face. But he controlled himself, concentrating on maintaining the bemused smile on his face. He had long learned that the best way to keep her out of his hair was to fluster her and to irritate her.

Not that it was a burden to annoy that little know-it-all. No, he was perfectly happy to upset her.

But in the same vein, she was also an expert at getting under his skin. Always fluttering her eyelashes around his old man, cooing at him and generally acting like an idiot. They both knew that no matter how much she schemed and plotted, she would never end up with any of the company shares. After all, it was him that had always taken care of the family business. Her exchanges with his old man were purely to bother him 

“You know that you’re just putting us all in danger when you play with that girl,” she finally said, practically oozing displeasure as she did so. She glared imperiously at him. “I can’t say that I approved of your methods before this but you’ve never acted so recklessly. Dragging the girl in would only damage whatever you’ve achieved. 

He pretended to consider her words as he finished his steak. “And I would take this advice from you, because…?”

She stiffened and his lips quirked upwards in a smile. He had finally managed to crack her composure. She pointed her finger at him. “Listen to me if you know what’s good for you, Gabby.”

Gabriel St. Clair rolled his eyes at her. “Oh must we go down this road? Just because you’re using same old nickname, does it mean that I’m supposed to listen to you now? You can’t be anymore tedious or unoriginal."

If he wasn’t mistaken, those were tears in her eyes. She merely shook her head at him before rushing out of the apartment in the half the time it had taken her to walk in 

Gabriel considered this for a moment. Did he feel bad about hurting her feelings? Well, no. She was lucky to be able to walk out alive in the first place.

They had been childhood playmates once. He had been Gabby and she had been the housekeeper’s sweet daughter. But those days were long gone. It was before he had discovered what fate had in store for him and before, shall we say, he developed an appetite for causing death and destruction. And that was before she had discovered a few secrets of her own.