Due to the fact that a friend of mine started quoting scenes from the Princes Bride because of the original surname I'd picked for Gabriel and his brother, I decided to change it because I couldn't write it without thinking of the Spaniard who was out for revenge against the man who killed his father. Hope this doesn't confuse too much, but we've gone from Montoya to Montenegro. Sorry about that.
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Pop Tart was a little fluff of nothing. When the windblown blonde had stalked out barefoot from Ariel's house, muttering under her breath and fighting with the Vera Wang knock off, Gabriel had reluctantly felt intrigued. He hadn't recognized her right away in the dark until she'd turned and widened those baby-blues at him in fright.
There had been a number of pictures of Daniel Montenegro II posing with the girl, but there really hadn't been any information as to who she was. For the most part, the record label mogul was usually by himself.
But now, here she was...looking up at him as if he were Satan himself.
Where the hell had she come from? What was she doing here amidst the circus of fans and groupies that always trailed Diavolo?
Despite the clingy dress that showed what a great body she actually had, she looked as out of place as a nun in a whorehouse.
He rushed through the back gardens toward the building that housed the pool. Ariel had shut down the exterior lights in hopes of keeping people out of the gardens, but the pool was lit.
As he rushed through the winding trail to the pool house, he could see shapes in the dark. People in various stages of undress were everywhere, doing very nasty things. Overhead, a helicopter buzzed about like an annoying mosquito. They weren't close enough to identify, but close enough to make Gabriel think paparazzi.
Sprinting up the three steps leading to the pool house's entrance, he strode beneath an impressive archway between two ivy-covered columns. It felt as though he'd suddenly been transport back in time. The pool house was more like a Roman palace with a lake in the middle. Replicas of famous sculptures surrounded the twenty by forty-five-foot pool. Blue lights glowed prettily beneath the surface of the water, making shimmering reflections crawl along the vaulted ceiling with its frescos of tiny cherubs floating overhead. He strode past the array of chaise lounges, tables, and chairs, straight to the main bathroom at the end of the pool area. As soon as he walked in, the automatic lighting came on, bathing the enormous bathroom in soft golden light.
He continued to the tub area set back in a large circular room past another archway.
The walls were made of rough stone, and the floor a smoother version of the same stone. Four, thick, ancient-looking columns surrounded the circular bathtub. Looking more like a small, in-ground pool, it measured at least ten feet in circumference. Water swirled and foamed within the monstrosity. Above the sunken bath, held aloft by the columns, golden light highlighted the cupola with its paintings of more angels.
Gabriel strode by the bath to the back wall, where he set the girl down on a bench within a sculpted-out niche in the wall.
She settled back against the array of satin and brocade pillows to watch as he retrieved one of the many rolled up towels near the edge of the pool.
Gabriel unrolled the snowy-white towel and dipped it in the warm swirling water. Kneeling at her feet, he proceeded to lift her injured left foot and press the towel to the bottom of it. He dabbed at the drying blood a few times before lifting her tiny foot to see the damage.
It was just a small puncture wound oozing a drop of blood as he looked at it.
"You'll live," he murmured, his voice echoing in the vast bathroom.
He looked up at her. Her hands were fisting the material of his shirt in her lap, a scowl set firmly on her face. She'd probably look really pretty if she smiled, but, right now, he didn't care much for the suspicious way her eyes were narrowing on him.
He cleared his throat. "What's your name?"
"Abigail," she replied primly.
He kept his eyes on her face, resisting the urge to checkout her legs. "Nice to meet you Abigail," he returned softly, keeping his expression blank.
Her brows drew together a little more and her lips pressed into a firm line.
Gabe could tell she was struggling with some serious internal monologue and decided to stay mute just to make her squirm a little more.
Her eyes darted to his hands, which were still holding her foot as she took a deep breath.
When she tried to draw her foot away, he gripped it tighter, and raised a brow at her, curious to see what she'd do then. Her prickly reaction to him had him intrigued and somewhat amused. Pop Tart was interesting...different.
"You're seeing my sister," she blurted—hurled the words at him, actually, quite venomously.
Gabriel released her foot as if it were a poisonous snake and stood.
He wasn't really seeing Mikayla Brown. She was sort of stalking him, but she was fun and the guys from the band had grown attached to her.
Abigail leaned forward, her eyes bugging out of their sockets at him. He almost wanted to recoil. "You need to stop immediately," Abigail demanded haughtily.
What?
Abigail clenched her fists with determination, her neck stretching up farther toward him. "You need to stay away—far away. Leave her alone—now!"
Gabriel snorted, letting his eyes flick over her. Who the hell did this chick think she was? He really hadn't been too interested in Mikayla, had only gone as far as letting her kiss and feel him up, but he sure as hell didn't like anyone—aside from his grandmother, of course—telling him who he could or could not see.
Abigail shot to her feet, keeping her weight off her left foot. She barely came up to his chin, but tipped her pert little nose up at him defiantly.
"Mikayla's engaged to Daniel Montenegro II. They're going to get married and he doesn't deserve this callous lack of respect. He's a good man," she snapped at Gabriel, her eyes gleaming as if she were possessed, "honorable, and good, and sweet."
So...Abigail wasn't Daniel's girlfriend, but the way she talked about his half-brother, he could tell she felt something for him. Gabriel wasn't sure why, but that bothered him more than knowing Mikayla was Daniel's actual girlfriend.
"I'm not forcing Micks to be with me,' he growled at her.
Abigail's nose rose even higher. "Good. Then you will just walk away from her," she ordered with that haughty tone that was quickly getting on his nerves.
"What?" he laughed incredulously. "Listen, lady, Micks is the one who won't leave me be, and even if I were to keep her at arm's length, she'd just go off with another one of the guys from the band." Abigail winced and he felt a perverse satisfaction at pointing at how slutty her sister really was. "She obviously has an itch her fiancé is unable to scratch."
The slap took him by surprise.
"You are a pig," Abigail hissed.
She gasped when he gripped her arms and hauled her against his chest. He'd never been slapped in all his life, and now he was pissed...and, weirdly enough, suddenly turned on by the little minx.
She stared up at him, her sweet mouth gaping like a fish out of water, big eyes dropping down to his mouth.
It was then he realized he was baring his teeth at her like a rabid dog. He needed to let her go...just open his fingers from around her delicate arms and step back...but it was not easy when she felt so amazing against him.
Well—shit...he wanted to kiss her.
Abigail licked her lips, her eyelids drooping half closed as another shudder went through her.
Yes.
Gabriel's head began to descend.
"Ey, am I interrupting something?"