Diavolo Ch 03

Paulina couldn't keep her eyes off him, though he could tell she tried to be discreet. Her face looked wooden, pale, but her eyes...those black orbs glittered full of poison, hatred...there was so much malice in those eyes.

During dinner, Daniel regaled them with tales of his many trips around the world, searching for budding new musicians and singers. North Star Records dealt mainly with non-mainstream music. What they lacked in the way of famous pop recording artists, they made up for in an abundance of renowned orchestras and symphonies as well as single artists and singers.

"I'd like to branch out and expand our repertoire. It's the reason my people have been in contact with your representative," Daniel was saying as he dabbed at his lips with a crisp white napkin. He grinned at Gabriel, his light brown eyes twinkling. "I promise not to mix tonight with business, but later on I cannot promise anything."

Gabriel tried to smile back at him. Lifting one corner of his lip was almost too much effort.

"Ah," Paulina finally spoke up, her eyes boring into Gabriel's, "what type of instrument do you play?'

Gabriel leaned back in his chair, his chin lifting fractionally, "I play keyboard, any string instruments, and percussion."

The woman's eyes flicked over him coldly, "Oh, so you read music?"

Daniel chuckled. "He reads and composes, mother."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at her, almost tempted to add that he could add and subtract too.

Mikayla snorted, "Mother made us take music lessons when we were younger. It was just so boring. I'd rather just listen."

Gabriel focused on Abigail. "Do you play anything?"

Before she could answer, Paulina stated, "Abigail is quite an accomplished pianist. Naturally not quite as talented as my son, Daniel, but it is a joy to listen to her."

Abigail blushed under his scrutiny. Mikayla only rolled her eyes and sulked, her eyes darting from him to her sister.

"She also has a lovely singing voice," Marjorie Brown added with an indulgent smile at her eldest daughter. Abigail began to imperceptibly shake her head, but her mother pressed on, "perhaps later, she can allow us the pleasure to hear her perform something."

Abigail's mouth opened in dismay, her eyes imploring her mother.

"That sounds like a great idea," Gabriel said, his eyes never leaving Abigail's face.

When Paulina cleared her throat, he reluctantly glance her way. Whereas before, the woman's expression was devoid of any outward emotion, now, her lips were pressed together tightly and her brows much lower over her eyes.

Gabriel cocked his head at her, daring her to say anything about his obvious display of interest in Abigail.

"Mother," Daniel began, steel in his tone, "Gabriel has asked Marjorie for Abigail's hand."

Paulina slammed her napkin down on the table. All the females started in their seats. Abigail lowered her eyes to her folded hands in her lap, Mikayla sat back, her eyes keenly interested in what her future mother-in-law was about to say, and Marjorie had her hands clasped against her chest, her eyes staring beseechingly at Paulina.

Paulina remained silent a long while, just glaring at Gabriel. She finally sat back in her chair, spine completely stiff and straight, and lips pursed. "And how do you feel about this, Abigail?'

Gabriel's attention flew to Abigail's face, his fists tightening to either side of his plate.

She looked at him over the rims of her glasses, the sweet red hue covering her cheeks intensifying. Whatever she saw in his face made her cringe more.

Damn.

"Well," she began, her voice so soft and low it was a miracle if those sitting at the opposite end of the table even heard her, "we still haven't discussed this fully."

Paulina's blistering gaze swung back to Gabriel before going back to Abigail. "I thought you were seeking a religious vocation?"

"Well," Gabriel interrupted, a tad scathingly, "now she's obviously found something better."

Paulina's cold gaze settled on him once more, her nose lifting infinitesimally. "You consider yourself better than God?"

Gabriel grinned, but didn't answer. Paulina's eyes narrowed a bit.

Dinner trudged on with various courses. Each plate had a minute amount of food, artfully arranged on the Montenegro estate's fine porcelain china.

A second bottle of wine that probably cost more than a hundred grand was opened like nothing.

Gabriel wrinkled his nose at the silver cup of sherbet he was being served.

He'd change all of this crap for a heaping plate of his grandmother's cooking. They'd gone through four courses and he was still starving.

Abigail was nibbling at her food. She took dainty little bites and chewed, lips sealed tight, eyes on her plate.

He thought of the kiss he'd given her. Seeing the horrified look on Mikayla's face had pleased him. He felt bad for his idiot half brother. He'd never been engaged or had a formal girlfriend, but the day he did, he'd be pissed if the chick fucked around behind his back.

His eyes focused on Abigail's soft lips.

That kiss...she'd been so hesitant...so shocked. Fuck. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear it might have been her first.

Jesus Christ. That was impossible. She was in her mid twenties. First kisses were for preteens and high schoolers.

Where the hell had these people had this chick stashed away?

Ah...the convent.

Jesus.

Leaning back as they cleared away his fourth dish and brought a fifth, he huffed a sigh of frustration. She was too innocent for the likes of him. His first woman had been older—a sexually ravenous freak who'd taken advantage of his young stamina while he was in his teens.

That lasted for a long time until the band started taking off, and then she'd turned into a jealous psycho.

He frowned down at his steak as he cut into it angrily.

Okay, he was getting off point here. There was nothing between him and Abigail. He wasn't sure why he'd kept up the pretense there was something between them...why he'd kissed her.

He smirked.

Fine. He'd kissed her because he wanted to antagonize Mikayla and Abigail looked totally kissable shivering at the sight of him. Hell, that alone had been quite a turn on.

Chicks always pounced on him. They didn't flush beguilingly and look at him as if he were a great big hungry panther and they a succulent little mouse.

Abigail's wide blue eyes rose to his shyly. Her flush intensified as her lashes fluttered over her cheeks.

He hardened in his pants. Interesting reaction. Completely stupid too.

He finally tore his gaze from her and concentrated on finishing this unsatisfying dinner.

The butler poured him another glass of wine and he gulped it down, uncaring that he'd just swallowed a mouth full of something that probably cost more than his treasured Fatboy outside.

The torture continued for an hour more until they finally stood and proceeded to the main parlor.

The room was enormous, two stories high with glass panes looking out to vast gardens and a view of the setting sun. A balcony hugged the front and left side of the room, giving a glimpse of the second floor to one of the manor's various wings. The white marble floors gleamed beneath an array of sumptuous rugs. Expensive art hung on almost every wall and vases filled with blooming flowers decorated almost every table.

The large fireplace, only one of the breath taking focal points in the room, had an arrangement of red roses bursting within.

Paulina excused herself a moment as Daniel sat at the Steinway and played an impressive piece for all of them.

Gabriel sat on the edge of the cream-colored leather couch and waited.

So far, the subject he'd wanted to broach had been cautiously avoided, due to the presence of the Brown women.

Gabriel was anxious to speak with Paulina and Daniel though.

He wanted to see Paulina Montenegro's reaction when she found out his father had left him half of everything.

Everything—fucking halfsies!

He wasn't remotely interested in the obscene amount of wealth around him. He'd still continue to live in his beach house, but he was interested in starting some kind of charity for homeless people and maybe free music schools for young kids in the city. So much more could be done with all this wealth than pamper this pack of wolves around him.

His eyes fell on Abigail again.

She was different. She wasn't like them. He could see it in her eyes and the way she acted. Pop Tart was a simple girl with simple tastes.

Christ. A sane man could lose his heart to a sweet girl like her.

He could almost imagine her wearing one of his shirts at the house, walking barefoot out onto the back deck that overlooks the beach.

Her hair would be loose, the breeze toying with its golden waves. He'd entice her into the woven hammock he had tied beneath a cluster of coconut trees near the glass doors to his bedroom.

He'd kiss her again, feel the satin texture of her pretty legs, press his chest against the softness of hers, feel her nipples harden into sharp little points against him.

Light clapping had him tearing his gaze from Abigail to look at Daniel. He'd finished his fancy piece.

Not bad playing. Now he wanted to see the man play something from Dreamtheater.

Gabriel snickered at the ridiculousness of it.

Daniel was watching him, and his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Why was he so touchy? Did he not like the way Gabriel devoured his spurned ex with his eyes? Daniel might have been stupid enough to drop Abigail for Mikayla, but Gabriel didn't have a stupid bone in his body. Pop Tart was going to be his.

Paulina swept into the room as Daniel stood.

"If you ladies will excuse us, my mother and I would like to speak with Gabriel in the study."

***

Abigail didn't dare look at him anymore. Good Lord! The man had stared at her almost all during dinner. He alternated between predatory observations of her every movement to volatile glares at auntie Paulina.

What had that been all about?

Abigail had decided the best thing to do was simply not look anymore...at anyone. Keep her head low and escape the first possible opportunity.

She was still reeling about him announcing their engagement.

Why? Why was he doing this? Why had he chosen her to sacrifice? She didn't deserve to be treated this way—a pawn to whatever Machiavellian scheme he was plotting.

What Mikayla had done was deplorable, of course, but now he was involving the rest of the family.

Daniel was keenly interested in signing his band onto North Star Records. Auntie Paulina, though she appeared neutral on the subject, would most likely not agree. She hated what she termed as the devil's music.

Abigail had even seen her look of extreme displeasure when Daniel mentioned that Gabriel's band was called Diavolo—devil in Italian.

Abigail wondered about that. Why had they picked that name?

She shuddered. Perhaps they were devil worshipers.

Oh-holy-mother-of-God! She'd kissed a devil worshiper!

She peeked up from beneath lashes to see Gabriel, Daniel, and her aunt walk toward the study adjacent to the living room.

Gabriel's shoulders were broad, his dark hair coming just between his shoulder blades.

Though dressed like a Hell's Angel, he looked authoritative, imposing.

This charade had to end. She needed to leave. Go back to Italy and the safety of the convent before she lost her soul.

The devil with the feline green eyes and midnight hair would certainly tempt her into a life of debauchery. Oh, she would resist, but still, she feared his arduous charm would eventually overwhelm her. She wasn't accustomed to being accosted by men. She wasn't accustomed to men-period!

Brutal fingers gripping her arm and hauling her up snapped her out of her dismal pensive mood.

Her mother and sister flanked her and drew her out onto the terrace.

"What is the meaning of this?" her mother demanded swinging her about to face her.

Mikayla stood almost between them, her eyes blazing.

Abigail cringed and gulped. "Um...well...we're engaged...I guess."

Marjorie opened her mouth, but Mikayla cut in enraged, "that's bullshit! You never even knew of Gabriel's existence until last week."

Abigail was out of words or ideas to explain. Anger surfaced now. She wasn't one to lie and that was what she was being forced to do...all this to protect Daniel from being hurt by Mikayla's behavior.

"Fine," Abigail finally snapped. "If you want to know the truth, he threatened to spill all to Daniel." Abigail stepped into Mikayla's personal space and continued despite her sister's defiant glare, "He'll tell Daniel and probably aunt Paulina all about your illicit affair. He might even take your shame as far as the media. Everyone will know how you've cuckolded poor Daniel," she finished on a sob.

Her mother gasped, horrified as she stared from one daughter to the other.

Mikayla lifted her nose, "he wouldn't dare."

Abigail clenched her teeth as her sister smirked at her.

"I knew he wouldn't be interested in you." She laughed, her eyes flicking over Abigail with insulting superiority. "As if."

Abigail felt her eyes smart with the onset of tears, but she refused to let herself seem weak before her much prettier sister. There were more important things than outward beauty, and Abigail had never been vain in her life anyway.

Marjorie Brown grabbed Mikayla's arm and yanked her around. "Listen here, young lady—"

"Ow," Mikayla complained with a pout, trying to wrench her arm from her mother's vise grip.

Marjorie would not relent though. She went nose to nose with a now cringing Mikayla and hissed, "I have been living with Paulina Montenegro for many years now. I've sacrificed my life to remain by her and am not going to let you ruin all that for me, you little tramp."

Abigail's eyes widened. Mikayla sputtered.

Marjorie continued, clearly not done with her tirade, "you seduced and tempted Daniel between your legs, took him from your sister, now you keep him."

"I never seduced him and, for your information, we've never fucked. Daniel is too uptight and antiquated to manage such a feat. That's why I went after Gabe. A girl needs a good fuck every once in a blue to stay sane."

Abigail grimaced. Her mother winced and released Mikayla's arm in disgust.

Mikayla only laughed. "Look at you two. The saint and the old maid—"

Her mother sputtered. "I will not permit you to disrespect me—"

"Oh, stuff-it, lady," she sneered, turning on her heel to flounce off.

Marjorie rubbed her temples, eyes closed in frustration.

Abigail wringed her fingers. She wanted to leave. This was not her mess...but...poor Daniel. There had to be a way to convince Gabriel to back down.

He was famous and had to have hoards of women following him. Why was he so obsessed with Mikayla? Why was he so angry with her deception?

"So he's using you?" her mother asked folding her arms over her chest.

"He said he wanted revenge."

Marjorie's eyes widened. "Revenge? Just because Mikayla...but that's absurd."

"I know, mother. I don't understand myself."

Her mother sieved a well-manicured hand through her bob and took a few steps toward the outdoor fireplace. "He can't. If word of this becomes public..." She turned around suddenly, eyes wild, "We'll be ridiculed. Your aunt won't stand for this. She'll throw me out and I have nothing, Abigail."

Abigail turned her face away, unwilling to hear her mother's rant again.

"You talk to that man, Abby. Dissuade him from this scandalous pursuit. Make him listen to the voice of reason."

Abigail closed her eyes as her mother took her hands and squeezed. "I'll try, mother. I promise."

"Abigail, I know you've always been a good girl, darling, but perhaps in this instance you need to leave your piousness aside and take a more...drastic measure to insure this man forgets your sister and her promiscuousness."

Abigail blinked her tears back, staring at her mother in disappointment. "You want me to lose my virginity to keep you from becoming destitute?"

Her mother dropped her hands in angered exasperation. "Really, Abigail, I cannot believe you've taken your antiquated beliefs this far. I know a woman shouldn't delve in immoral behavior, but you're almost in your thirties for Christ's sake. Surely, at least one lover wouldn't have been frowned upon even for curiosity's sake."

Abigail gaped at her mother. Her own mother was telling her she should...Oh, it was too horrifying to contemplate.

She turned away, unable to bear the shame of looking at her any longer. "I'll do the best I can," she repeated in a dead tone, even to her own ears.

Her mother squeezed her shoulders and kissed her cheek. "I am relying on you, sweetheart."

She heard her mother's footsteps fade away and she was now alone on the terrace.

A warm breeze caressed her, played with her loose hair. Reaching back, she gripped the loose ends and sighed. Her hair-tie was somewhere out in the front entry.

Her life was slowly coming apart.

First, Daniel had fallen for Mikayla instead of her. Her heart had been so broken, she'd actually become physically ill for days. Always having been a bit too rounded in the hips and thighs, she lost so much weight her college professors had asked her if she was sick.

As the time passed, she'd been content to imagine Daniel happy. It was all that mattered. Love wished no ill and she certainly didn't begrudge Daniel his happiness, though she was completely broken inside.

And now this. Gabriel.

He had to be dealt with. He needed to go. She would not allow dear sweet Daniel to suffer because of the wiles of two selfish people.

***

Gabriel sipped his glass of cognac, his eyes never leaving Paulina's face. Daniel went on about the benefits of branching out their genres of music to expand their recording enterprise.

"What do you think, Gabriel?" Daniel was saying.

Daniel was quiet a moment before leaning back in his armchair and crossing his ankle over his knee. "That sounds reasonable, but I leave those kinds of discussions to my band manager. My real purpose for coming here has nothing to do with Diavolo."

Daniel nodded and sat back in his chair too, his shoulders squaring out. He looked into his own glass of liquor as if for inspiration.

"And to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?" Paulina asked, one brow lifted.

Gabriel reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and retrieved a copy of one of his father's letters to his grandmother. He stood and sauntered over to her. Those black eyes scanned him thoroughly, embarrassingly thorough. He tossed the letter unceremoniously onto Paulina's lap and stood before her, hands on hips.

Paulina, her elbows resting on the arms of her chair, pressed her fingers together forming a steeple. Her eyes stared at the letter as her lips tightened into a frown.

Gabriel's patience was wearing thin when she simply said nothing for the longest time.

Finally, she raised her head and stared at him fully again. "How much do you want?"

Gabriel frowned at her. "I don't want your filthy money."

Her lips twitched, almost smiling. "You look like you need it. How is my mother? Is she still alive?"

Rage detonated in Gabriel's heart. Were she not a woman he would have slugged her. As it was, he barely restrained himself from throttling her anyway.

"Anna Maria Arroyo is alive and well," he hissed.

A brief flicker of emotion, a blink, and it was gone, too fleeting to gage or ponder. Paulina just nodded. "She favored your mother always over me. Blamed me for what happened, though I was nothing more than a victim."

She blinked innocent eyes up at him, but he knew better.

Gabriel snorted. "Victim? I read her diary. I know exactly what happened."

Paulina's face went red with rage. She stood, letter in hand and faced Gabriel, shoulders back and hands fisted. "Lies. She couldn't bear knowing Daniel preferred me after all, and did her best to lure him away."