Chapter 3 - THE FIRST STRIKE
The silence stretched between them, thick with an unspoken, magnetic tension that made the air feel thin. Before Diane could formulate a reply, the heavy glass doors of the gallery swung open with a loud thud, and Marcus Vale stepped inside. He looked immaculate, composed, and utterly repulsive to her now. He scanned the crowded room until his eyes locked onto Diane—and then froze when he saw who she was standing with. Marcus’s face drained of color. He hurried across the polished concrete floor, his polite smile plastered on too tight. “Gabriel,” Marcus said, his voice carrying a nervous tremor he tried desperately to mask. “I didn’t realize you collected contemporary photography.” Gabriel didn’t look at Marcus. His pale gray eyes remained fixed on Diane, a silent, mocking dialogue passing between them. Slowly, Gabriel turned his head to Marcus, his expression turning glacial. “I collect things of rare value, Marcus. Things that are neglected by men who think they own them.” Marcus swallowed hard, stepping between Diane and the city’s most feared underworld boss. “My wife has had a long week, Gabriel. We should be going.” “I didn’t ask to leave,” Diane cut in, her voice ringing clear and hard in the quiet space. Marcus whipped his head around, staring at her in sheer disbelief. In eleven years, Diane had never contradicted him publicly, let alone in front of Boston’s elite. “Diane, be reasonable,” Marcus hissed under his breath. “I am entirely reasonable, Marcus,” she replied, stepping deliberately past him and back toward Gabriel Sterling. “In fact, for the first time in a decade, I am being completely honest.” She looked up at Gabriel, whose lips parted in a fraction of a smirk. Without a second thought, driven by a fierce, burning need to tear down the gilded cage Marcus had built around her, Diane reached out, grabbed the lapels of Gabriel’s expensive suit, pulled him down, and kissed him. The gallery went dead silent. The background music seemed to die. For a microsecond, Gabriel stiffened in sheer shock—and then his hand came up, wrapping securely around the back of her neck, pulling her deeper into a kiss that tasted like dark whiskey and absolute ruin. It was scorching, unapologetic, and deliberate. When she finally pulled back, her chest heaving, the entire room was watching in petrified awe. Marcus looked like he had been struck by lightning. “You—you bitch,” Marcus stammered, his face twisting in rage. Gabriel slowly wiped a trace of lipstick from his thumb, his pale eyes blazing with a dark, feral fire as he looked at Marcus. “She’s not yours anymore, Vale,” Gabriel said smoothly, pulling Diane flush against his side with a protective possessiveness that sealed her fate. “And trust me... you can’t afford what comes next.”
