Page 5 of The Spy
A shocking, stabbing pain behind my eyeballs surprised me, and I quickly blinked to clear way the leaking tears. What the fuckery was that?
I was fine. I could do this. I would make Dad proud and give her away. And then one of these days, she would sit in the Ops Command chair. One of the most powerful women in the world, not just Britain.
The idea of it brought me so much satisfaction. That all the cunts who’d side-eyed her and her abilities, who’d murmured dark whisperings about the Abotts, all of them would have to bend a knee for my sister. A black woman in charge of them all. It made me proud as all fucking get out. She always made me proud.
But right now, all I needed to do was get through her damn wedding without bloody tears.
Tabatha came running back, ice in hand, dress slightly hiked up, showing off her ankles and pointy, delicate-looking silver heels with the straps winding up her ankles.
The hit of lust in my bloodstream did me no favors. I clamped my jaw shut, scowling down at her bare ankle. Trying not to picture her wearing those heels and nothing else.
We've already covered this. She is not for you. You can never call her yours.
Five minutes later, the door swung open again and Tabs gave me another sunny smile. Did she have to look at me like that? Like I was worthy of the sunshine? And this time, I saw my sister. Her dress was also strapless, but it had a daring plunge and all this beading, making her shine like a star.
She also wore a tiara and veil that was insanely long. What was truly astonishing was the bright-as-the-sun smile on my sister's face.
I blew out a long breath. “Jesus Christ, you look like something else.”
“You think so?”
“You are radiant.”
She grinned and tucked her head. “Thanks. What if I trip?"
I took her left hand and placed it in the crook of my arm. “You are the most agile person I have ever seen.”
She held on tight as we started to walk together toward the main doors that led to the back gardens of Abott Manor.
As we crested the stairs of the back balcony, Saff stopped and squeezed my hand. “You all right?” I asked.
“Perfect. I just want you to have someone to love too.”
I laughed. “Love doesn't fix everything for every person, Saff. Besides, I believe someone once called me ‘a controlling arsehole who would never find anyone to love him.’”
“To be fair, I didn't say it exactly like that.”
“I'm paraphrasing. I know I'm set in my ways. Don't worry about me. I love you, and today is about you.”
“I love you too, big brother.”
“I love you more. I win.”
She rolled her eyes. “My darling thick-headed brother, it's not a competition.”
I grinned down at my sister. “It's always a competition.
As I walked her out of the back of Abott Manor, Tabatha stepped up and held up the massive train of Saff's veil and dress.
I really started to sweat, my breathing coming in short shallow bursts. And instead of me supporting Saff, she supported me by squeezing my arm and whispering that she loved me. That I would always be her big brother.
And then to my horror, the stinging behind my eyes came back.
Later that night after the speeches, as Mr. and Mrs. Lachlan King danced along to James Brown, I sat at the bar sipping a scotch, trying to bury that ache at the center of my chest. Tabatha found me all alone and there was nowhere to run.
“There you are, Gabe. I haven't seen you on the dance floor.”
“No one wants to see me dance.”
