Chapter 2 - THE SHAPE IN THE SKIN
His eyes were entirely black.
Not brown. Not dark.
Black.
And they weren’t looking at the tray. They were looking at my face.
Specifically, at the left side of my jaw where the harsh restaurant lighting was fighting a losing battle against the cheap drugstore concealer.
I tried to step back.
My body refused.
The sharp, white-hot pain beneath my ribs suddenly expanded, wrapping around my chest like an iron band.
My breath stopped. Completely.
The tray in my hand tipped.
I watched the three heavy crystal glasses slide toward the edge in agonizing slow motion. I tried to catch them, but my fingers wouldn't close. My wrist screamed in pain.
Then, the world tilted.
The floor rushed up to meet me.
I didn’t hit the ground.
Gabriel Rossi moved faster than any man in a tailored suit had a right to. He caught me by the waist, his strong arm wrapping around me right where my ribs were broken.
I screamed.
Or I tried to. It came out as a strangled, pathetic gasp.
My instinct took over. The same instinct that kept me alive in the dark apartment with Mitchell.
I folded my arms tightly over my chest, curling inward, trying to protect my broken ribs even as the darkness pulled me under.
The bourbon glasses shattered on the hardwood floor.
The sound echoed through the dining room, but I barely heard it.
I was drifting. Fading.
But I could still feel Gabriel’s hand.
To keep me from hitting the floor, he had grabbed my left forearm.
His fingers pressed directly over the bruises Mitchell had left there two nights ago.
I flinched weakly, my sleeve sliding up.
Through the haze of fading consciousness, I heard the Alderman shout in shock.
I heard Chef Henry yelling my name from the kitchen doors.
But Gabriel didn’t say a word.
He didn’t call for help. He didn’t ask if I was okay.
Instead, he went completely, terrifyingly still.
He was staring at my exposed wrist.
At the dark purple bruises wrapping around my pale skin.
And at the very specific, perfectly circular burn mark right in the center of the bruising.
A burn mark shaped exactly like a police academy graduation ring.
“Who did this to you?” Gabriel’s voice was a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through my chest.
I couldn't answer. The darkness finally swallowed me.
When I woke up, I wasn't in a hospital.
I was in a bed so soft I felt like I was floating.
The room smelled like cedar and expensive linen. Soft lamplight glowed against dark mahogany walls.
Panic seized me instantly.
Mitchell.
If I wasn't home by 2:00 AM, Mitchell would lock the deadbolt. He would wait in the dark.
I scrambled to sit up, but a gentle hand pressed against my shoulder.
“Don’t move. Your ribs are taped.”
I froze.
Gabriel Rossi was sitting in a leather chair beside the bed. He had taken off his jacket. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing a network of faded scars on his forearms.
“Where am I?” I gasped, my voice trembling.
“My home,” Gabriel said smoothly. “My private doctor just left. You have two fractured ribs, severe contusions, and a dangerous level of exhaustion.”
“I have to go,” I panicked, throwing the heavy duvet off my legs. “You don't understand. If I'm not home—”
“If you're not home, Detective Mitchell Vance will have to find someone else to use as a punching bag tonight.”
The air left my lungs.
He knew Mitchell's name.
He knew Mitchell was a cop.
“How do you know him?” I whispered, backing against the headboard.
Gabriel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The calm, collected demeanor he wore at the restaurant was gone. In its place was something raw. Something violent.
“I know the shape of that burn on your wrist, Harper,” Gabriel said quietly. “Because Mitchell Vance used the exact same ring to burn my younger sister’s neck three years ago. Right before he threw her off a balcony.”
I stopped breathing.
Mitchell had told me his last girlfriend died in a car crash.
“You’re lying,” I whispered.
Gabriel reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small, silver object and tossed it onto the mattress next to my hand.
May you like
It was a heavy silver lighter. Engraved with Mitchell's initials.
“He dropped this in my restaurant tonight, right before you collapsed,” Gabriel said. “He wasn't on patrol, Harper. He was sitting at the bar. Watching you.”
