Corrupted Queen - Nicole Fox Page 0,60

from nearby. There’s nothing.

I weave through the trees, keeping a brisk pace to try to warm back up.

I can’t believe I’ve gotten away with it. My plan went off flawlessly, and now I have all the evidence I could possibly need to bring Gabriel down. Because that’s what I’m going to do, right? I’m not going to be some passive Mafia mistress who stands by while innocent people get hurt. I have a mind of my own, but more importantly, I have a voice—and it’s my duty to use it.

But the thought of betraying Gabriel … It sticks against my ribs like cold oatmeal. If I expose him in my article, it will ruin him. Harry will grow up hating his own father. He will never remember all the times Gabriel rocked him back to sleep after a nightmare or played the plane game with him for hours or made him a bubble beard in the bath. He will only remember the ugliness.

And me … I know I shouldn’t be thinking about me, but I can’t help but grieve my own loss of Gabriel. I have always wondered what this feeling is—if it’s love or lust or just good old-fashioned Stockholm Syndrome, but either way there’s a little corner of my heart that belongs solely to Gabriel Belluci. I deny it all the time, but in the wake of what I am about to do it seems like a good time to be honest with myself. I care about Gabriel. I might even love him. Even after everything he has done, everything he could still do, Gabriel means something to me, and I am going to have to confront those feelings one way or another.

I am so stuck in my thoughts that I trip over a root and go sprawling into the dirt. I catch myself with my hands and groan. This is just what I needed. I haul myself back up, muttering curses under my breath, and try to brush as much of the dirt off me as possible, before continuing forward a little more carefully.

I come out of the trees and cross the lawn, arriving at the back door with a friendly smile.

“That was just what the doctor ordered,” I tell the two guards, who eye me suspiciously but don’t say anything as I pass back into the house.

Once inside, I see that my knees and palms are stained brown. I’m looking forward to a long, hot shower when I get back to my room. I do my best thinking in the shower, too, so I’m hoping for a little clarity.

I make my way toward the foyer, slinking quietly through the hallway with the goal of not attracting any further suspicion. I am just passing the kitchen when a hand reaches out and seizes my arm. I squeak in fear and spin around.

Gabriel’s massive form looms above me in the doorway, eyes like embers trained on mine.

“What are you doing wandering around the house so late?” he asks in a low voice.

“I could ask the same of you.” I yank my arm back.

“You’re not the only one who likes snacks,” he answers. “Now, answer my question.”

His lips are pulled flat, jaw tight. His hair is a little messy, like he’s been running his hands through it in frustration. In light of his stressed appearance, I swallow the deflective wisecrack on my tongue.

I gesture to my workout clothes. “I was working out.”

He pulls my hand out, palm facing up, and cocks a brow. “Were you working out outside?”

“No. I went for a walk to cool down after.” I pull my hand back, shrugging. “I fell.”

As expected, this excuse does not sit well with Gabriel. His eyes narrow on mine, and I feel his gaze as keenly as if he were digging through my brain with a tiny shovel. I need to distract him. And I need to do it quickly.

“I, uh, wouldn’t mind getting warmed back up again,” I say, holding his gaze and trailing a finger down my cleavage. “If you know what I mean.”

I cringe internally at my lame sexy talk, but it has the desired effect. Gabriel’s eyes brighten, as though lit from the inside.

I step closer, reaching for his bulge and squeezing him through his pants. The bold move elicits a soft growl from deep in Gabriel’s throat. I slowly lean up on my tiptoes and kiss him, tangling my fingers in his hair while my other hand massages him, feeling him harden against my