C H A P T E R • 6

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I stared at myself in the mirror, my hands sliding over the dark blue off-the-shoulders dress to straighten it out. I stopped myself halfway, cursing at myself for the stupid habit my mother got me on.

' "Perfection is deception, Mija,"' she used to tell me, ' "and that is just what us ladies need in this industry."'

And then I would believe her. She was a manipulative one, that was what I knew for sure. I guess it was what made her so good for the business. However, she always failed to realize that I didn't want to be like her; I didn't want to be arranged into a marriage with a successful man. But she always failed to see reality for what it was, too.

I grabbed the gun that I casually had resting on my countertop, slipping it into its strap under my dress. I then grabbed my favourite black blade, slipping it into the pouch on my other thigh. I slipped my silver open-toed heels on and began to fix my ink-black hair.

Most normal dinners would consist of family members only; in this case, my two older brothers, my mother, and my father. But this was my family, meaning it included several business partners and their sons or daughters in a giant room with a giant table.

Nothing about my family was normal.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts and I looked up through the mirror, watching as Gabriel came in. He was wearing a white button-up, doing up his buttons while his jacket was most likely in my bedroom. It angered me how little he had to try to look attractive.

"Te ves aún más hermosa que el día que nos conocimos," he commented, standing behind me when I silently gestured to the unzipped zipper going down my back. Gabriel did the zipper up, moving his hands down to my hips once he finished.

(You look even more beautiful than the day we met.)

There was a weird feeling beginning to stir in the depths of my stomach when Gabriel did or said the smallest of things without realizing it, and I hated it. I didn't know what he was doing but I didn't like these feelings and I wanted them gone.

But the way my heart was pounding against my rib cage and my breath caught in my throat as he made eye contact with me said otherwise. I licked my nude-stained lips, focusing my attention on my hair as I fixed it once more.

"Nervous?" He asked, grabbing the hem of my dress and tugging it down gently so that it was showing less skin. It only caused the top of my dress to move down, exposing the cleavage of my breasts. "Fucking hell, I already hate this thing."

"Why? I look great."

"Exactly." I raised an eyebrow and he returned it with narrow eyes. "Vanessa, I'm not about to have all of the men their except for your family staring at you like they could take you over the table."

I rolled my eyes. "I can take care of myself, Gabriel. I've survived six years without you up my ass so I can survive these hours without you thinking I'm some damsel in distress."

Gabriel childishly grunted, pulling the dress up a tad bit. He turned me around and grabbed one of my legs, wrapping it around his waist and lifting my dress up. It stopped just below my butt and Gabriel wrapped an arm around my waist, keeping me in place while his other one went down my inner thigh, going to my warm centre. The second I felt his hand hovering over my heat, a wave of arousal went through me and I shivered, feeling my lips part.

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