Bryn bit her lip uncertainly as she quickly looked at each of the three D’Angelo brothers in turn: Gabriel glowered at Rafe impatiently, Michael also frowned at his sibling while Rafe grinned unrepentantly at both of them before turning to give Bryn a conspiratorial wink.
Her eyes widened as she realised Rafe D’Angelo, rather than seriously challengingly her, was, in fact, deliberately annoying his two brothers.
‘I don’t understand any of this.’ She gave a dazed shake of her head.
‘Not even Gabriel?’ Raphael came back speculatively.
‘Rafe—’
‘I know, shut up.’ Raphael lightly acknowledged Gabriel’s rebuke as he pushed his hands into the front pockets of his denims. ‘I don’t know why it is, but you and Michael just love to ruin all my fun.’ He shrugged.
Bryn really was baffled by Michael and Raphael D’Angelo; she had expected hostility, at least, from the two of them because of who she was and the damage her father could have caused the Archangel Galleries five years ago. A hostility that she realised simply wasn’t there.
Admittedly Michael was a little austere, self-contained, restrained, in both appearance and manner, but that seemed to be his normal demeanour, rather than any personal animosity directed towards her.
As for Raphael... Bryn had a feeling, looking into those predatory and shrewd golden eyes, that Rafe D’Angelo was a man who maintained a wickedly irreverent appearance on the outside as a way of keeping his real feelings very close to that beautifully muscled chest.
Gabriel easily saw the bewilderment in Bryn’s expression as she looked at his two brothers.
Just as he recognised Rafe’s open appreciation for Bryn as he mockingly returned that curious gaze. An appreciation that Gabriel didn’t like in the least, following his own two weeks of private hell as he had forced himself not to touch or kiss Bryn.
He put a proprietary hand beneath Bryn’s elbow now as he stepped closer to her. ‘If the two of you will excuse us, I want to talk to Bryn upstairs in my office for a few minutes.’
‘“Talk” to her, Gabriel?’ Rafe came back derisively.
He gave his brother a narrow-eyed look of warning. ‘I’ll see the two of you later this evening.’
‘You can count on it,’ Rafe came back challengingly. ‘I’m very much looking forward to seeing you again this evening, Bryn,’ he added huskily.
‘For God’s sake, Rafe, will you just—?’
‘I know, I know. Shut up,’ Rafe sighed heavily at Michael’s terse admonishment.
Gabriel gave a shake of his head as he and Bryn finally left the gallery together, maintaining his hold on her elbow as the two of them walked towards the private lift at the end of the marble hallway. ‘I apologise for Rafe,’ he bit out abruptly. ‘As you may have gathered, he has a warped sense of humour.’ A warped sense of humour that on this occasion had been at Gabriel’s expense; Rafe knew and had played upon the fact that Gabriel hadn’t liked the interest he had shown in Bryn.
‘He seemed...very nice,’ Bryn answered him uncertainly as they stepped into the lift together.
‘Nice is not a word I would ever use to describe my brother,’ Gabriel rasped. ‘Annoying, irritating, sometimes infuriating, but never anything as insipid as “nice”.’ Even as he said it Gabriel knew he was being unfair to Rafe; after all, his brother had been the one to warn him that Bryn Jones was Sabryna Harper after Michael had decided against doing so.
‘Both your brothers were far more polite to me than I could ever have expected, in the circumstances,’ she murmured softly as they stepped out of the lift and walked down the hallway to Gabriel’s office.
Gabriel shot her a sideways glance. ‘Than I led you to believe, perhaps?’
‘Well... Yes.’
He drew in a sharp breath at the speculation in Bryn’s tone. ‘I advise you not to complicate an already impossible situation by falling for the charms of one of my brothers!’ he bit out harshly.
‘I wasn’t— I didn’t— Why would you even think I might do that?’ Bryn reacted with predictable accusation.
‘You already know the answer to that question, Bryn,’ Gabriel murmured as they entered his office, closing the door firmly behind them before turning Bryn in his arms, his hands resting lightly on the slenderness of her hips.
‘Do I?’
‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘But just so that there’s no misunderstanding—if any of the D’Angelo bothers is going to be allowed to kiss these delectable lips today, then it’s going to be me,’ Gabriel assured her gruffly as he raised one of his hands to run a fingertip gently over her fuller, sensuous bottom lip.
Her eyes darkened, cheeks suffusing with colour. ‘I’m not interested in being kissed by either Raphael or Michael,’ she breathed softly.
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Gabriel’s hand moved beneath her chin and tilted her face up towards his, his other arm moving lightly about her waist as he moulded the softness of her curves against his much harder ones. ‘How about me, Bryn? Are you interested in kissing me?’
‘Gabriel...’ she groaned breathily.
It took every particle of willpower Gabriel possessed not to just take that kiss as he felt the way Bryn’s body trembled against his, but he knew that he couldn’t, wanting, needing Bryn to make the first move. ‘A single kiss, Bryn,’ he encouraged throatily. ‘For luck. To the success of the exhibition this evening.’ His breath caught in his throat as he waited for her answer.
Bryn gazed up at him searchingly, longing, aching to once again feel Gabriel’s lips on hers, to lose herself in that pleasure. At the same time as she knew that a single kiss wouldn’t be enough, that she wanted so much more from Gabriel than just passion and pleasure. So very much more. And that Gabriel didn’t have any more than that to give her.
‘I can’t,’ she breathed softly as she pushed against his chest to be released.
Something dark and primal moved in the depths of his eyes as his arms tightened about her. ‘Can’t or won’t, Bryn?’ he rasped harshly.
She closed her eyes briefly before answering him. ‘Let me go, Gabriel.’
His mouth thinned, a nerve pulsing in the tightness of his jaw. ‘Why are you doing this, Bryn?’ he groaned. ‘Why are you making us both suffer because of your stubbornness?’
This wasn’t about Bryn being stubborn; it was so much more than that—she felt so much more than that. ‘You know why.’
‘Because you’re worried about your mother,’ Gabriel rasped. ‘Because of how you believe she would feel about the two of us being together.’
Tears burned in her eyes. ‘And you don’t think that’s important?’ she choked. ‘You believe that I should just take what I want and to hell with how it affects anyone else?’
‘If I’m what you want, then, yes, damn it, that’s exactly what I think you should do!’ His eyes glittered darkly.
Bryn gave a shake of her head. ‘You said it yourself, Gabriel. This is an impossible situation that doesn’t need to be made any more complicated than it already is.’
‘And when I said it I was warning you not to take Rafe’s flirtation seriously,’ he grated harshly.
Bryn blinked back the heat of tears. ‘Gabriel, we only have one last day together to get through. Do you think we could try to do that without arguing?’
His expression sharpened. ‘You think I’m just going to gracefully bow out of your life after tonight?’
She tensed. ‘I was under the impression— Eric told me weeks ago that you would be returning to the Paris gallery after the opening night of the New Artists Exhibition.’
‘Did he?’ Gabriel gave a humourless smile.
Bryn looked up at him searchingly, a sick feeling forming in the pit of her stomach as he met her gaze unblinkingly. ‘You don’t intend going back to Paris tomorrow?’ she guessed weakly.
‘No, I don’t,’ he answered with satisfaction. ‘In fact, Rafe, Michael and I were discussing that very thing when you arrived. Michael is flying to New York tomorrow to take over the gallery there for a month, Rafe is going to Archangel in Paris and I’m staying right here to oversee the rest of the New Artists Exhibition and auction.’
And Bryn knew that the exhibition was being opened to the public tomorrow, the paintings to be on display until they were included in the next Archangel auction in two weeks’ time.
Which meant that Gabriel was going to be in London for at least those same two weeks, possibly longer—and his very presence in London would continue to be such a torment and torture that she wouldn’t know a moment’s peace.
‘Let me go, Gabriel,’ she instructed. ‘Please,’ she added as his arms remained firmly about her waist. ‘I have to be at the coffee shop by ten o’clock.’