Page 49 of Dark Billionaire Stalker
I move to my desk and sit, putting the familiar barrier of polished wood between us. "She's considering the contract. She'll sign by Monday."
"You're certain?"
"Yes."
Now he turns, and I see the concern he's trying to hide behind that neutral expression. Josiah has never been as good at masks as he thinks he is—or perhaps he simply doesn't bother to hide from me, knowing I'll see through it anyway.
"Gabriel." He moves to the chair across from my desk, the same chair Benedict occupied yesterday. My brothers do love to make themselves comfortable in my space. "I need to ask you something, and I need you to answer honestly."
"You need a great many things. Whether you get them is another matter."
"This isn't a joke."
"I'm not laughing."
He holds my gaze for a long moment, and I see him gathering himself, preparing for a confrontation he's been building toward for days.
"What is this woman to you?"
The question is direct, unavoidable. I consider deflecting, dismissing, or turning it into another verbal sparring match. But Josiah deserves better than that. He's been my partner, my advisor, my closest confidant since we were children. If I can't be honest with him, I can't be honest with anyone.
The problem is, I'm not sure I know the answer.
"She's a witness," I say finally. "One I'm managing."
"You don't manage witnesses by taking them to lunch at Umberto's."
"I'm bringing her into our orbit. Keeping her close, where I can watch her. It's the safest approach."
"Safest for whom?" Josiah leans forward, elbows on knees. "Brother, I've watched you operate for three decades. I know how you handle threats. This isn't handling. This is—" He pauses, searching for words. "This is something else."
"What would you have me do? Kill her?"
"It would be cleaner."
The suggestion lands like a stone in still water. He's right, of course. From a purely practical standpoint, eliminating her would be the simplest solution. One body, properly disposed, and the problem vanishes. It's what we've done before, what theBrotherhood has always done with loose ends that can't be tied any other way.
But the thought of it—of her light extinguished, her voice silenced, her body cold and still—
Something in my chest revolts. Violently.
"No," I say, and my voice comes out harder than I intended. "She's not to be touched. Not by you, not by Benedict, not by anyone in the Brotherhood. Do you understand?"
Josiah's eyes widen slightly. He's surprised—not by the command, but by the vehemence behind it.
"Gabriel," he says slowly. "What is she to you?"
The question again. The same question I can't answer.
"She's mine," I say. "That's all you need to know."
He studies me for a long moment, and I see understanding dawn in his expression—along with something else. Worry. Fear.
"This is dangerous," he says quietly. "You know that."
"I know."
"The Brotherhood won't tolerate a liability. If they decide she's a threat—"
