The private jet's landing gear touched the runway with a harsh jolt. Its vibration spread throughout the cabin, snapping me out of my restless, torturous thoughts.
For ninety minutes in the air, not a single word had been spoken. Gabriel sat across from me, his eyes glued to his tablet, sipping his second scotch as if I didn't exist. He was back to being the cold Gabriel Richards—not the older brother who had hugged me in the car earlier, but the corporate executioner who had just disposed of a problematic asset.
And that problematic asset was me.
“Fix your face,” Gabriel’s voice broke the silence, flat and devoid of emotion. He didn't look up. “We’re here. Don't let the ground crew see your swollen eyes. A Richards doesn't look weak in front of subordinates.”
I hurriedly wiped away th
