The sound of a car engine roaring up the long drive broke the stillness of the morning. Arabelle was in the studio, her brush poised midair, when the noise caught her attention. She set it down and moved to the window, peering out at the sleek black car that skidded to a halt in the courtyard below.
Her stomach churned when the door opened, and Gabriel stepped out. He adjusted his leather jacket and looked up at the manor with a smirk, his presence as intrusive as the car's arrival.
"What is he doing here?" she muttered under her breath.
The last thing she needed was Gabriel's uninvited theatrics. Lucian had warned her about him just days ago, and though she hated to admit it, she'd begun to see the merit in his words. Gabriel's persistence was starting to feel less like concern and more like obsession.
A sharp knock on the studio door startled her.
Mrs. Hawthorne's voice came through, clipped as always. "Mr. Devereaux would like you to join him in the front parlor. It seems you have a visitor."
Arabelle hesitated, her pulse quickening. She didn't relish the idea of a confrontation between Lucian and Gabriel, but there was no avoiding it. Smoothing her shirt, she followed Mrs. Hawthorne through the winding halls, each step heavier than the last.
When she entered the parlor, the tension in the room hit her like a wall. Lucian stood near the fireplace, his posture rigid, his dark eyes fixed on Gabriel, who lounged on a leather armchair as if he owned the place.
"Ah, Belle," Gabriel said with a grin, rising to his feet. "You didn't tell me you'd moved into a palace."
"I didn't think it was your business," she replied, crossing her arms.
"Charming," Lucian drawled, his voice icy. "To what do we owe the pleasure of this uninvited visit, Mr. Hawthorne?"
Gabriel's grin widened, but there was a sharpness to it now, like a predator circling its prey. "Relax, Devereaux. I'm here for Belle."
Lucian's gaze didn't waver. "You've made your intentions quite clear before, and she's made her answer equally so. Yet here you are. Persisting."
"Call it concern," Gabriel said smoothly, turning his attention back to Arabelle. "We need to talk. Alone."
Lucian stepped forward, his presence suddenly looming. "She's not going anywhere with you."
The room seemed to darken, the weight of Lucian's words filling the air. For a moment, even Gabriel seemed taken aback, but he recovered quickly, his grin twisting into something more defiant.
"Big talk for a man who hides behind shadows," Gabriel said. "What are you so afraid of, Devereaux? That I'll tell Belle the truth?"
Arabelle stiffened. "What truth?"
Gabriel's gaze softened when it landed on her, though it felt more calculated than genuine. "He hasn't told you, has he? About his little… reputation?"
"That's enough," Lucian said sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.
"No, I think she deserves to know," Gabriel countered, his tone mocking. "Belle, do you even know who you're working for? This man has more blood on his hands than he'll ever admit. People disappear around him. Business rivals, former allies. Hell, his own brother - "
"That's enough!" Lucian's voice roared, reverberating through the room.
Arabelle took a step back, her heart pounding. She glanced at Lucian, whose face was as still and unyielding as stone, though his clenched fists betrayed the storm beneath.
"Gabriel," she said, her voice steady despite the chaos in her chest, "why are you really here?"
His expression softened again, a mask slipping into place. "To protect you, Belle. You're in over your head with this guy. You don't know what he's capable of."
"I'm capable of far more than you realize," Lucian said, his tone low and dangerous.
"Stop it!" Arabelle snapped, stepping between them. "Both of you."
She turned to Gabriel, her eyes narrowing. "You keep showing up, stirring things up, but you're not telling me everything. What's your angle, Gabriel? Why are you so interested in Lucian?"
Gabriel hesitated, his confident veneer cracking for just a moment. "Because people like him don't change, Belle. He's dangerous. And I care about you too much to let you get caught in the crossfire."
"Enough with the theatrics," Lucian said, his voice laced with contempt. "You're not here out of love or concern. You're here because you think you can gain something. Whatever you're looking for, you won't find it here."
Gabriel's eyes hardened. "You think you're untouchable, don't you? Sitting in this fortress, hiding behind your money and your secrets. But everyone has a weakness, Devereaux. Even you."
Lucian's expression didn't waver, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes - something Arabelle couldn't quite place.
"I think you've overstayed your welcome," Lucian said coldly. "Mrs. Hawthorne will show you out."
Gabriel's smirk returned, though it didn't reach his eyes. "This isn't over," he said, his gaze lingering on Arabelle. "You know where to find me, Belle. When you're ready to hear the truth."
He strode past her, brushing her shoulder as he went. The front door slammed behind him, the sound echoing through the hall.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Arabelle turned to Lucian, her chest heaving with a mix of anger and confusion. "What was that about?"
Lucian sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Gabriel has always been a man who thrives on manipulation. He'll say whatever he thinks will serve his purpose, no matter how much damage it causes."
"That's not an answer," she said, stepping closer. "He said people disappear around you. He mentioned your brother. Is any of it true?"
Lucian's eyes met hers, dark and unreadable. "Some truths are twisted into weapons, Arabelle. Gabriel wields them like a blade, hoping to wound."
"That's not good enough," she said, her voice trembling. "I deserve to know what I'm walking into."
Lucian hesitated, his hands clenching at his sides. "My brother… his death was a tragedy. Nothing more. Gabriel uses it because he knows it's the deepest wound I carry. That's the kind of man he is."
She wanted to believe him, but doubt gnawed at her. "And the rest? The rumors, the disappearances?"
Lucian's jaw tightened. "There's darkness in my past. I won't deny it. But I'm not the monster Gabriel wants you to believe I am."
His words hung between them, heavy and unresolved.
"I need time to think," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lucian stepped aside, his gaze softening just slightly. "Take all the time you need. But be careful who you trust, Arabelle. Not everyone has your best interests at heart."
She nodded, though her mind was a swirl of questions and doubts. As she walked back to her room, she couldn't shake the feeling that both men were hiding something - and that the truth, whatever it was, would come at a price.
Back in her room, she sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her sketchbook. The storm outside had calmed, but the storm inside her raged on.
She picked up her pencil and began to draw, her strokes hard and deliberate. The lines formed Lucian's face, his sharp features shadowed and haunted. But as she worked, another figure emerged behind him - Gabriel, his grin sharp and menacing.
When she finished, she stared at the image, her chest tightening. The sketch captured everything she felt: the pull of both men, the secrets they carried, and the dangerous game she'd unwittingly stepped into.
But no matter how hard she looked, she couldn't see a way out.