The Pawn (Endgame #1)(45)
“What did my father buy from you, anyway?” I say, bitterness tinging my voice.
“I bought something from him, actually.”
I turn in surprise, forgetting to hide my face. “You did?”
I never knew the details of the transaction that ruined everything. That wasn’t part of the court case. But it was common knowledge in the city. Gabriel made sure of that.
“His shipping company. It was failing, and he was looking for a buyer. I met with him a few times. My lawyers met with his. We made an offer. He accepted.”
My eyes widen. “No.”
Daddy owned several businesses, but his international shipping business was the largest one. His bread and butter. The bulk of his wealth. It had been in trouble, even before the mess with Gabriel Miller? I don’t want to believe that, because he should have told me. I should have known.
Gabriel watches the clouds, his golden eyes reflecting the rolling darkness. “Only after the papers were signed did I find out he had secretly sold off the company’s most valuable assets to other holding corporations, thus rendering my purchase almost worthless.”
My mouth drops open. Nothing Daddy did should surprise me anymore, but somehow it still does. After all the lectures he gave me about integrity and family pride. After the chili juice on my fingers. I had come to see him as ten feet tall, some kind of paragon of morality.
“How?” I manage.
He shrugs. “A dollar sale here. Twenty-five cents for million-dollar property there. He’s not the first man to try and cheat me. He won’t be the last, though less will try now that they’ve seen what happens.”
I swallow hard because I don’t want to think of how many lives were ruined. “There wasn’t anything you could do?”
His smile looks feral, more like a snarl. “Oh, there were plenty of options. I could have contested the deal in court—and won.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“It wouldn’t have been enough. I could have had him killed for what he did.”
My stomach tightens. Someone almost killed him one night, but they left him alive.
He continues, “Death would have made him a martyr, though. I wanted him alive. Alive and suffering, so that everyone in the city would see what happens to someone who fucks with Gabriel Miller.”
“Is that why you brought me here?” We both know the answer is yes.
He smiles faintly. I see the reflection in the window, overlaid on the stormy clouds. “You play chess. Surely you know the many uses of a pawn.”
I flinch because I know exactly what I am to him. It’s my role in this game: to fall when the time is right, to protect the king until I’ve run out of time.
To sacrifice myself at the perfect turn.
“The city is beautiful like this, held down by the sky,” he murmurs.
But when I glance at his reflection, it’s not the city he’s looking at. It’s me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Any hope of escaping the spotlight fades when he leads me up the stairs, away from the mezzanine seating and toward the boxes. Our seats give us a perfectly clear view of the stage, a drama lover’s dream. Unfortunately they also give everyone in the theater a perfect view of us. I pretend not to see people craning their necks to look at us.
Gabriel is every inch the gentleman as he waits for me to sit in the plush velvet chair before taking his seat beside me. The lights dim, but that doesn’t mean the whispering stops. I can feel their curious gazes crawling over my skin.
That’s kind of the point.
I may as well have my wrists in metal chains rather than a golden bangle. He might as well grab my hair and drag me around rather than lead gently with a hand at the small of my back. That’s how clearly he’s subjugating me in front of everyone. That’s how strong the message is. He owns me.
He made it clear that he’s my enemy, if I still had any doubt. I’m the pawn, and he’s my triumphant captor. And yet there are those moments of tenderness that I can’t quite turn away from. Drops of water that I’m thirsty enough to drink.
Like the pictures he hadn’t given to Damon Scott to share.
The play captures my attention from the first song, and I’m soon lost in the aching distance between Eliza and Henry. She’s brash and beautiful, her accent both foreign and endearing. Of course he strips her of it, attempting to turn her into a more desirable woman. And so comes to desire her. Except what remains of the woman that she had been? If you have to change to be loved, then how much is that love worth?
I don’t know who would be my Professor Higgins—Justin, who wanted the perfect society wife? Or Gabriel Miller, who wants a sexual slave?
In the end neither one of them fit the bill, because neither of them love me. They can want me, they can fuck me. But they don’t love me.
The curtain falls for intermission.
Gabriel stands and holds out his hand. “Come. I did have something to show you earlier.”
I bite back a hundred sarcastic comments—that I would just as soon not be strutted around like a trophy he’s won, that I have no interest in seeing what he’s packing. Instead I place my hand in his.
This time when he leads me into the atrium, he ignores the hands that rise in his direction as people try to speak to him. This time he doesn’t let me turn away to the window.