Fraud

I strip off my wet dress and drop it into a pile of dirty clothes Emily has in the corner of the closet and grab a pair of thin sweatpants and a long sleeve cotton shirt to put on.

Thankfully, my panties are mostly dry, so I keep them on, but my dress had a built-in bra shelf, which means I have nothing to wear up top. I’d borrow something of Emily’s, but there’s no way I’m stuffing a set of Cs into her modest B cups.

Damn it.

I need my bags, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to Gabriel to get them.

Nobody can make me go anywhere near that man. Not for the rest of my miserable life. I flat out fucking refuse.

And with that thought in mind, I walk out of the closet, turn toward a noise, and scream to see Gabriel standing in the doorway, an arrogant smirk curling his lips as his eyes run a slow path down my body.

“You look nice,” he teases, pure humor in his voice. “Although I think I liked the dress from earlier better.”

His emerald green eyes meet mine. “It was easier access.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

I hate the high pitch of my voice, the obvious shock. But this jerk has a way of sneaking up on you in the most unlikely of places. He knows it, too, if that charming smile he wears has anything to say about it.

Leaning a shoulder against the frame of the door, he keeps me locked in that charming stare, the true Gabriel I know peeking out from behind it.

“You left before we had a chance to discuss our upcoming wedding. Should our colors be white and silver, or are you more partial to blue? Also, are we doing a full cake, or do you prefer the tiered cupcake arrangement? I hear those are popular these days.”

“Stop being an idiot. You’re here to rub it in that you think you won.”

He blinks at that. “I haven’t?”

“Not even close.”

He grins. “Such a shame, I’ll be sure to cancel the trophy I ordered with my name engraved on the plaque. It’ll be sad to cancel the victory party. I was so looking forward to the clowns and balloon animals.”

My lips twitch at that, only because it reminds me how much of an idiot he was to believe anything I said on our date.

Cocking an arrogant brow, he says, “Actually, I’m here to give you your bags.”

His eyes slowly drop to my chest, my nipples hard because it’s cold, and the shirt is thin.

“I thought you might need them. And apparently I was right. Unless you like the all-natural look. In case you’re wondering, I’m a fan.”

Crossing my arms to cover my chest, I wait for his eyes to lift again, that lying smile stretching his mouth when he sees the a

“Are you going to help me get the bags, or were you expecting me to drag all forty of them in myself?”

“It’s seventeen, Gabe. You know that.”

“My apologies for miscounting.”

His brows shoot up.

“We can stand here all night, if you want, but I assumed you’d want to get rid of me as soon as possible.”

“Can we backdate that? I’d like to get rid of you eighteen years ago.”

Laughter shakes his shoulders. “Sorry, love. No can do. Plus, how boring would your life have been without me?”

I drop my arms and walk to him, our eyes locking as I draw close. “I’m sure I would have survived.”

“But would you have felt as alive?”

My heart thumps painfully at his words, our gazes tangling together without hope of letting go.

It doesn’t matter what he’s doing or where we are. I see Gabriel as a man, but also as a nine-year-old boy, the two images superimposed.

Now he stands with his posture relaxed, his face all hard angles and easy charm. But beneath that is the scrawny kid with wavy hair that fell to his chin, his eyes swollen and his lip split.

I’d offered him a popsicle that day, thinking it might make his lip feel better, and while our fathers stood at a distance discussing business, he’d knocked the treat from my hand like I’d offended him.

“I don’t want it.

“But you’re hurt. It will make you feel better.”

“You’re not supposed to see that.”

He shoved me to the ground after saying those words.

The boy had hurt me, and I’d cried back then. His father had laughed proudly while Gabriel glared down at me. Like Gabe was supposed to hurt people because that’s who he is.

Through the years, he learned to wear the charming mask, and he’d fooled everybody around him. Seduced them into compliance. Made them feel safe.

And in the background where nobody could see, the boy grew up and kept hurting me, but I hurt him back.

An entire lifetime of it leaving us with scars that are perfectly matched.

I wish he’d let more people see behind the easy smile and charming ma

“Bags,” he reminds me on a whisper. “Do you want them or not?”

I shake myself of the past. I’m dazed and confused, but that’s how he always leaves me.

“Yes. Of course, I do. I’m a little surprised you brought them. Especially after everything you’ve done.”

He softly clasps my chin between his fingers. “Are you still mad about that?”

Ignoring the spark that always jumps between us, I nod my head. “I still plan on murdering you. Slowly. Most likely painfully as well.”

Heat flashes in his green eyes, his mouth curling into a grin. “I’m looking forward to it.”

This time it’s Gabriel who gets lost in thought as he stares at me, his eyes searching my face, his fingers softly tracing my jaw.

“So about those bags,” I remind him, because I can’t see that heat and not be affected by it. I can’t feel his touch and not want more of it.

It’s how the worst night between us happened, the night I saw something I shouldn’t have, and nature almost struck us dead.

I have to hate Gabriel, and I can’t forget that while I’m being lured in by his charm.

Because of him, I have a problem to fix, one which has no easy solution. But also because of him, I get confused and forget what that problem is.

Only when he’s around me.

Only when we’re standing like this.

Only because I see the boy and the man.

And only because I know he’s the broken prince, while everybody else knows Fraud.

I can’t forget.

Not again.

Not ever.

His gaze drops to my mouth. “About them.”

I shove past him despite how much I want to stay standing like this. “Let’s go, Gabriel. It’s best to get this over with and get away from each other.”

He steps up to walk beside me.

Thankfully, the halls are wide enough that it doesn’t shove our shoulders together. Still, having him there is uncomfortable, but more preferable than having him at my back.

Turning a corner, I see Dylan standing in a doorway, his eyes tiny, red slits, his lips curling at the corners. He’s a good-looking kid with dark auburn hair, not as red as Emily’s, more brown. He’s the same height as Gabriel while still not quite filled in, but high school guys never are.

Dylan glances at me, but then locks his stare on Gabriel, their knuckles knocking together in greeting as we pass.

Eyeing Gabriel after he does it, I lift a brow in question.

“I thought you hate Emily and everything about her.”

“Emily is a bitch. But Dylan’s not so bad,” he answers.

“How do you even know him? I mean, as kids, obviously we all knew each other, but how do you know him now?”

We reach the front door, and he grips the handle, his gaze finally crawling to mine.

“Where do you think Sawyer gets his pot?”