Chapter Twenty-Nine
Gabriel crosses the room to the fireplace, kneeling to reveal the bunched muscles of his back. He settles a stack of logs from the metal basket beside the fireplace and strikes a match. The roar fills the vacuum of quiet with crackles and pops of a new fire. When he faces me, the light flickers against his broad shoulders, his muscled arms, leaving his expression an enigma.
I pick up the diary with two fingers, as if it’s poison. And God, it is. How long has it been poisoning that house? How long has it been making me sick without even knowing it? And Gabriel doesn’t seem the least bit surprised.
“How did you know my mother was afraid?”
He settles into the other armchair, long legs stretched out. He’s the king of his domain—and a checkmate against him seems nearly i
