Better Off Dead : A Lucy Hart, Deathdealer Novel (Book One)
Page 9
~*~
Gabriel hadn’t slept much all week. He had entirely too much on his plate, and far too many concerns whirled around in his mind. Ever since Delia concocted her plan, things had gone all wrong. The instant she unveiled her scheme to him, to hire some woman to play the part of his secret fiancée, his mother declared that she knew he was hiding something—and she correctly guessed that it was a girl.
Thus, procuring a false fiancée became not just an insane idea, but seemingly their only option.
But Gabriel didn’t have the contacts or the expertise in such covert, dishonest, and probably illegal enterprises. That was why he’d hesitantly enlisted the aid of his most trusted advisor and friend, his Uncle Dante.
Though Dante was his father’s brother, he had always taken Gabriel’s side in matters, even encouraging his brother to relinquish the CEO position at Enoch Industries to Gabriel in the last year. When Dante had inadvertently found out about Delia, he’d raged at Gabriel for such poor judgment, and for endangering everyone he held dear, including Delia.
He was also a lawyer, Gabriel’s lawyer, not to mention the head of Enoch Industries legal division, so covert wrangling and deception were nothing new to him.
Yet above all else, Dante was his uncle, and his closest ally.
That said… he was currently having a hard time overlooking his uncle’s abrupt loss of his senses. He hadn’t expected Dante to go out trolling for potential brides-to-be, but he had never imagined he would recruit someone of such low character as a subcontractor.
“Francis?” Gabriel groused, his gaze burning a hole through his uncle. “Of all the scum-of-the-earth degenerates you could have reached out to, you picked him?”
They were in Dante’s office at Enoch industries. The walls were painted a warm brown that was almost a peach. The furnishings were antique art deco, with clean lines carved out of rich woods. And though not cluttered, the entire room was used—photos of family and friends, Dante’s law degree, Chamber of Commerce awards, a few pieces of avant-garde art, even a pewter wolf sitting on its haunches, muzzle raised as if baying at the moon.
Dante raised one eyebrow in mock surprise. “He is loyal to me.”
“Loyal! Are you joking? My entire life I have heard about him cheating on his wife, cheating on his taxes, and every other possible dubious act. I just can’t believe he isn’t in prison yet.”
“You confuse loyalty to one’s spouse with loyalty brought on by fear.”
It was Gabriel’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
Unflappable and smooth as usual, Dante smiled and spread his hands out. “Just that committing dalliances in your marriage has little to do with how reliable you are to those you fear.”
“Fear… Francis fears you?” Gabriel was astonished. Certainly his uncle was of the most dangerous breeds of attorneys—a real shark—but how that mental prowess translated to being able to intimidate a bottom feeder like Francis was unclear.
“Believe me,” Dante mussed, “between what I know about him, and how I have… punished him in the past, he will do anything I tell him to.”
A chill ran up Gabriel’s spine as he stared into Dante’s eyes. Obviously there was still much he didn’t know about his uncle. And from the cool satisfaction in his voice as he came right out and said he’d “punished” Francis, he wasn’t anxious to find out what he was missing. The image of his uncle wielding a whip or a switchblade made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Gabriel cleared his throat and finally looked away from his uncle. “I just hope he can find a viable candidate. She will have to be cultured as well as beautiful.”
“And she’ll have to be a good actress.”
Gabriel laughed bitterly. “Because pretending to be my fiancée will be such an unpleasant experience.”
“That too,” Dante replied, apparently not getting the sarcasm in his nephew’s voice. Or maybe he actually believed playing the part of Gabriel’s fiancée would be an arduous task. “But mostly to fool the rest of the family... specifically your mother and father.”
The two men locked gazes for a moment, and then grumbled: “Especially her.”