Better Off Dead : A Lucy Hart, Deathdealer Novel (Book One)
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Chapter 8
ALONE in his office at Enoch Industries, Gabriel answered an e-mail to a computer component supplier in Malaysia: they would need to double their previous order for this quarter. When he proofread the message, then hit send, he checked his inbox, found nothing new, so he closed his laptop. Looking around his desk, all he saw was a crystal pen holder, his phone, and the brilliant shine of his black enamel desk.
This had always been the best part of his day. Even in high school and college, once he’d gotten every last bit of work done, he felt an immense sense of peace. Nothing orbiting on the periphery of his thoughts—that was how he liked everything, which explained the Spartan furnishings he’d chosen for his office. Gabriel didn’t like distractions of any kind. Single minded was what he knew people thought of him, but he knew that to keep track of such a large company as Enoch Industries you needed a clear mind. Otherwise things could get ugly fast.
But it would be nice to have a photograph of her on his desk.
The thought left him momentarily breathless. Honestly, he knew that could never happen. Even if he tried to… Delia was renowned, as was her family, quite notoriously so. It would start a war, and though he would gladly give up anything to be with her… war would be unthinkable.
He was about to hit the intercom button and tell his assistant, Laurel, that she could go home. He’d wrap things up before heading off to the gym and then home. But just as he was about to touch the button Laurel’s cheery little voice sang through the intercom and announced that his uncle Dante wanted a word.
“Send him in,” Gabriel said as he got up out of his chair and moved in front of his desk to greet the older man.
Dante was swift and almost beat him to the front of the desk.
“So, how did things go?” Gabriel invited Dante to sit with a wave of his hand, and then took a seat on the edge of his desk. “I presume you worked out the details.”
“Well, someone had to.” Dante’s voice wasn’t unkind, but he did seem a little put out.
“Uncle, I’ve been swamped here all week. And I knew I could trust you to negotiate the most efficient deal.” Gabriel felt uneasy at the look his uncle had on his face. “What kind of deal did you work out, uncle?”
“Let’s just say,” Dante spread his hands out, a gesture Gabriel knew meant Dante was confounded, “from the way the girl negotiates for herself, she should be well worth the trouble.”
Trouble? “You mean she didn’t let Luvici do the talking?”
“Not once money came into the conversation. She obviously thought Francis was under appreciating her worth.” He smiled wryly as he shook his elegant head. “It really was good to see such… gumption in someone of her generation.”
“If you can equate gold digging with gumption,” Gabriel scoffed, “then sure, she’s a catch.”
“I’m just saying, if she’s that persuasive and convincing, then she should be in her element when it comes to fooling your parents… and your Uncle Remy.” Dante scowled as he checked his watch. “He’d love nothing more than to discredit you… and you father. He is second in line.”
“Not with Micah and me in the picture. More like fourth in line.”
“Fine. But he still would cherish the opportunity to disgrace you, especially so publically. Delia is a very dangerous liability—”
“Delia is the woman I’m in love with!” Gabriel cut across his uncle. “That hardly makes her a disgrace!”
But Gabriel’s glower diminished at the weary look in his uncle’s eyes.
“Don’t delude yourself,” Dante said as he stood to leave. He clasped his nephew around the shoulders, his hands warm but firm. “Whether this bit of subterfuge succeeds or not, she will never be accepted by the family. And for as long as you keep this relationship going, then you will be vulnerable.”
Before he left the room he turned back to Gabriel. “By the way, you should procure a picture of Miss Hart and display it on your desk. It will look more than a little strange not to.”
Gabriel grimaced, feeling like he was choking on his own heart as he fought not to howl with the pain. “Of course, Uncle,” he said. “Good idea.”
Dante left the room. He hadn’t brought anything into the room, but Gabriel suddenly felt his office was cluttered with thoughts he was indeed lending a blind eye to. He just couldn’t see a world without Delia in it. And if he had to lie to his parents, and so many more, and if he had to pretend to be involved with an opportunistic grifter like Lucy Hart, he would gladly do so. Anything not to lose Delia…