It was several hours later—several hours and half a bottle of single-malt whisky later—as he relived the evening over and over in his mind, that Gabriel remembered he had told Bryn that he only ever went to Rome for ‘pleasure’.
He wondered—hoped—that might be the reason for that edge to her tone.
* * *
‘That looks amazing, Eric.’ Bryn’s face glowed as she looked admiringly at the silver gilt frame that had been put on the painting she always referred to in her mind as Death of a Rose. It represented so much more than the death of a single bloom, of course; it was symbolic of any death: love, hope, dreams. And, as they had hoped, the silver gilt frame was perfect against the misty background, the blood-red bloom weeping dew and petals onto the base of the canvas.
Bryn had spent most of her free time at Archangel the past four days, safe in the knowledge that Gabriel was still away in Rome. The highlight of each day had been the hours she spent in the cavernous basement of the gallery with Eric choosing the frames they thought suited to bring out the best in the ten paintings she was to exhibit at the gallery next month. This evening was no exception.
As far as Bryn was aware, Gabriel had spent those same four days—and nights—in Rome, no doubt indulging his every ‘pleasure’.
Bryn had kept busy while at the same time determinedly not thinking of Gabriel, the evening they had spent together, or the ways in which he might now be indulging his pleasure in Rome!
And she wasn’t going to think about him now either. ‘It’s perfect!’ Bryn enthused as she continued to gaze at the painting in the silver gilt frame.
Eric nodded. ‘Gabriel will have the final yay or nay, of course, but I think he’ll like what we’ve done so far. No doubt he’ll change it if not,’ he added ruefully.
Bryn’s smile faded at mention of Gabriel. ‘He will?’
‘He has a really good eye for this stuff.’ Eric shrugged.
‘Better than you?’
‘Much better,’ Eric confirmed without rancour. ‘All of the D’Angelo brothers do. They’re the reason I wanted to work for the Archangel Galleries.’
Eric took the painting down off the wall where they had hung it so as best to appreciate the effect of the framing. ‘Feel like going for a drink somewhere when we’ve finished here?’ he suggested lightly as he stored the painting away safely.
‘I—’
‘I believe you’ll find that Bryn doesn’t believe in mixing business with pleasure.’
Bryn’s heart stopped beating at the harsh sound of Gabriel’s voice behind her. She whipped round quickly to find him standing in the doorway just feet away. And looking—
Looking more lethally attractive than when she had last seen him—if that was possible—his dark brown bespoke suit obviously designer label, his cream shirt and tie of the finest silk, his ebony hair slightly tousled in that just-got-out-of-bed style, his face tanned a deeper gold, intensifying the colour of his warm, chocolate-brown eyes.
No, his eyes weren’t warm this evening. They were icy. Like a deep arctic chill.
An arctic chill that swept contemptuously over Bryn as the coldness of that gaze moved over her slowly from head to toe and then back again. Gabriel’s top lip curled back derisively as he took in her casual appearance in a black short-sleeved T-shirt and black low-rider denims and a face that was completely bare of make-up. At the very least Bryn felt she looked like the penniless student she had once been—still was?—compared to Gabriel’s expensive and sartorial elegance.
* * *
Bryn looked more stunningly beautiful than ever, Gabriel acknowledged irritably, her eyes glowing a warm dove-grey, her cheeks flushed with becoming colour.
At least, her eyes had been glowing a warm dove-grey, and there had been colour in her cheeks too, as she obviously enjoyed Eric’s company.
Until she turned to look at Gabriel, at which point her gaze had quickly become guarded and her cheeks had paled.
His mouth tightened as he glanced across at Eric. ‘If you’ve finished with Bryn for this evening, I need to speak with her for a few minutes.’ It was a statement rather than a question, Gabriel having no intention of taking no for an answer. From either Eric or Bryn.
‘Actually,’ Bryn began tentatively, ‘I—’
‘I think it’s best if we go upstairs to my office for this conversation, Bryn.’ Gabriel held the door open pointedly.
Her eyes widened, her creamy throat moving as she swallowed then wet the dryness of her lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘I— Yes, of course.’ Her hands were gripped tightly together in front of her, knuckles showing white. ‘A rain check on that drink, Eric?’
Eric gave a relaxed smile, obviously completely oblivious to the underlying tension between Gabriel and Bryn. ‘No problem,’ he agreed easily.
Which was perhaps as well; Gabriel had always had a healthy respect and liking for their London in-house art expert, and he would hate to ruin their working relationship by having to exert his executive power. ‘Bryn?’ he prompted tersely.
She grabbed her denim jacket and shoulder bag from a chair before hurrying across the room to join him, pressing her spine back against the door frame so as not to come into contact with him as she slipped out into the hallway, her expression apprehensive as she waited for Gabriel to join her.
An entirely appropriate apprehension, as it happened.
‘Whisky?’
Bryn stood awkwardly in the middle of Gabriel’s elegant office watching as he removed his jacket and draped it over a chair before moving to the bar in long, easy strides. They had travelled up in the lift together in complete silence. Bryn’s apprehensive. Gabriel’s grimly foreboding.
It didn’t help that Bryn was still uncomfortably aware of how young and gauche she must appear to him, in her casual clothes and wearing no make-up, only to then chastise herself for even caring what, if anything, he might think of her appearance. Gabriel D’Angelo was one of the owners of the gallery where her paintings were to be exhibited next month, nothing more. She couldn’t allow him to be any more than that.
‘It’s a little early in the evening for me, thanks,’ she refused lightly. ‘Unless you think I might need it?’ she added uncertainly as she saw the hard implacability of his expression.
A hard implacability that showed her just how relaxed Gabriel had been on the previous occasions the two of them had met and spent time together....
Gabriel made no comment as he poured an inch of whisky into two crystal glasses before crossing the room and holding one out to Bryn.
The past four days had been successful ones for him as far as business went, but far less so on a personal level, as Gabriel hadn’t been able to shake off thoughts and memories of Bryn. Of that last evening with her, when the desire the two of them felt for each other had raged so out of control.
As Gabriel had no doubt it would rage out of control again, despite the business-only arrangement Bryn had suggested and Gabriel had reluctantly agreed to. Gabriel had wanted this woman five years ago, and he wanted her still. A fact that had been brought painfully home to him after he had spent an evening with the beautiful Lucia while in Rome, and then politely walked her to the door of her apartment before leaving again, rather than spending the night with her as he would normally have done. He hadn’t felt a shred of desire to bed the raven-haired beauty because Bryn was the woman he wanted. In his arms. In his bed. In his possession! And that was never going to happen while the events of the past were allowed to continue to lurk in the shadows between them.
‘You’re going to need it,’ he confirmed gruffly. ‘We both