you I’m really Sabryna Harper, William Harper’s daughter?’
‘Yes,’ Gabriel bit out tautly.
Bryn continued to stare at him disbelievingly. ‘That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said to me!’
He gave a derisive smile. ‘Nevertheless, it’s the truth.’
She gave a dazed shake of her head. ‘In what universe did you think that was ever going to happen?’ Gabriel seriously expected her to— He had really thought that she would one day trust him enough to tell him, to confide in him. ‘It was never going to happen,’ she stated flatly.
He drew in a sharp breath. ‘That’s...unfortunate.’
‘I don’t see why,’ she challenged scathingly. ‘Luckily for you, you already have your reserve candidate for the New Artists Exhibition, so no problem there once you’ve had the pleasure of kicking me off—’
‘I’m not kicking you off anything, Bryn, and I resent the fact that you think it would ever be a pleasure for me to do so,’ he cut in harshly, running an agitated hand through the darkness of his hair as he scowled. ‘And why the hell would I do that, when you’re far and away the best artist in the exhibition?’
‘Why would you?’ she repeated challengingly. ‘I’m William Harper’s daughter!’ she reminded him—as if saying it repeatedly would help her to accept that Gabriel really did know, had always known, exactly who she was.
‘And, as I’ve already stated, I knew that when you were chosen as one of the six finalists.’
Yes, he had, which again made absolutely no sense to Bryn. Her father’s name was so shrouded in scandal that her mother had decided to distance them from it all by changing their last name after he had died. A scandal that had been connected to this very gallery and the D’Angelo name; she couldn’t believe that Gabriel would ever want to risk the resurrection of that scandal by exhibiting the paintings of William’s daughter. And certainly not intentionally.
She looked across at him guardedly, once again aware of how he owned the elegantly furnished office rather than the opulence dominating the man; Gabriel was such a force in his own right that he seemed to own the very air around him, no matter what his surroundings. Something that had been all too apparent during her father’s trial—even the judge hearing the case had treated him with a deference and respect he hadn’t shown to anyone else in the courtroom. Something that had no doubt added weight to the evidence Gabriel gave against her father.
Not that any weight had needed to be added; there had been no doubting her father’s guilt, not only for attempting to sell a fake Turner, but for having commissioned the forgery in the first place, having paid an artist in Poland a pittance to paint the forgery and then attempting to sell it for millions of pounds to Gabriel and the Archangel Gallery.
‘Bryn, even without Michael’s help, I would have known who you were the first time I looked at you again....’
She looked up at Gabriel sharply. ‘I don’t see how when my name and appearance are so different from five years ago.’
He gave a humourless smile. ‘It’s unlikely I’d ever forget the young woman who glared her hatred across a courtroom at me for days on end. Those eyes alone would have given you away.’
Bryn had never forgotten him either, but for quite a different reason.
Gabriel D’Angelo had, quite simply, been the most charismatic and darkly intriguing man she had ever set eyes on. But it was more than that; he was more than that. Gabriel had awakened something deep inside the eighteen-year-old overweight and slightly shy Sabryna that had filled her night fantasies for weeks before her father’s arrest, and months after the trial had ended.
The same fantasies that had filled all of her nights since meeting Gabriel again a week ago. The same desire that had awakened in her again, a few minutes ago in the basement, the second she had heard his voice behind
‘Yes,’ Gabriel bit out tautly.
Bryn continued to stare at him disbelievingly. ‘That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said to me!’
He gave a derisive smile. ‘Nevertheless, it’s the truth.’
She gave a dazed shake of her head. ‘In what universe did you think that was ever going to happen?’ Gabriel seriously expected her to— He had really thought that she would one day trust him enough to tell him, to confide in him. ‘It was never going to happen,’ she stated flatly.
He drew in a sharp breath. ‘That’s...unfortunate.’
‘I don’t see why,’ she challenged scathingly. ‘Luckily for you, you already have your reserve candidate for the New Artists Exhibition, so no problem there once you’ve had the pleasure of kicking me off—’
‘I’m not kicking you off anything, Bryn, and I resent the fact that you think it would ever be a pleasure for me to do so,’ he cut in harshly, running an agitated hand through the darkness of his hair as he scowled. ‘And why the hell would I do that, when you’re far and away the best artist in the exhibition?’
‘Why would you?’ she repeated challengingly. ‘I’m William Harper’s daughter!’ she reminded him—as if saying it repeatedly would help her to accept that Gabriel really did know, had always known, exactly who she was.
‘And, as I’ve already stated, I knew that when you were chosen as one of the six finalists.’
Yes, he had, which again made absolutely no sense to Bryn. Her father’s name was so shrouded in scandal that her mother had decided to distance them from it all by changing their last name after he had died. A scandal that had been connected to this very gallery and the D’Angelo name; she couldn’t believe that Gabriel would ever want to risk the resurrection of that scandal by exhibiting the paintings of William’s daughter. And certainly not intentionally.
She looked across at him guardedly, once again aware of how he owned the elegantly furnished office rather than the opulence dominating the man; Gabriel was such a force in his own right that he seemed to own the very air around him, no matter what his surroundings. Something that had been all too apparent during her father’s trial—even the judge hearing the case had treated him with a deference and respect he hadn’t shown to anyone else in the courtroom. Something that had no doubt added weight to the evidence Gabriel gave against her father.
Not that any weight had needed to be added; there had been no doubting her father’s guilt, not only for attempting to sell a fake Turner, but for having commissioned the forgery in the first place, having paid an artist in Poland a pittance to paint the forgery and then attempting to sell it for millions of pounds to Gabriel and the Archangel Gallery.
‘Bryn, even without Michael’s help, I would have known who you were the first time I looked at you again....’
She looked up at Gabriel sharply. ‘I don’t see how when my name and appearance are so different from five years ago.’
He gave a humourless smile. ‘It’s unlikely I’d ever forget the young woman who glared her hatred across a courtroom at me for days on end. Those eyes alone would have given you away.’
Bryn had never forgotten him either, but for quite a different reason.
Gabriel D’Angelo had, quite simply, been the most charismatic and darkly intriguing man she had ever set eyes on. But it was more than that; he was more than that. Gabriel had awakened something deep inside the eighteen-year-old overweight and slightly shy Sabryna that had filled her night fantasies for weeks before her father’s arrest, and months after the trial had ended.
The same fantasies that had filled all of her nights since meeting Gabriel again a week ago. The same desire that had awakened in her again, a few minutes ago in the basement, the second she had heard his voice behind
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