Better Off Dead : A Lucy Hart, Deathdealer Novel (Book One)

  Chapter 14

  IT HAD TAKEN GABRIEL almost all night to calm Delia down. She was frantic, one moment seeming to believe what he told her, the next she was seething with jealousy and the desire to go kill Lucy.

  That thought had affected him far more than he’d been counting on. Sure, it was important to keep Lucy alive and well. Not only instrumental to Delia and his pulling the wool over his parent’s eyes, but she was actually a pretty good person. Even with the gold digging and shallow attachment to high end possessions, she had this quality about her.

  At first he’d assumed it was just a meeting of minds. He was completely goal oriented, and even though Lucy’s goals only aligned with his through their little arrangement, he had been truly impressed by her commitment and determination.

  And then there was the engagement party and that damn kiss.

  Not that it had gone badly. No, not a bit. Their kiss had been more than just convincing… it had been heart-stoppingly real. At least on Gabriel’s part.

  He’d felt drawn to her the moment his eyes had taken her in. The blood red dress, the way she moved through the room and how she’d effortlessly charmed everyone… including him.

  Sitting back in his chair at Enoch Industries, Gabriel felt guilt and shame mix with the lust he felt for Lucy.

  How could he want two women at the same time? What kind of man was he? He wasn’t that kind of guy. No, he certainly hadn’t been. Ever since the night he’d met Delia he’d wanted and loved only her.

  But then she had that crazy idea, though it sounded plausible at first. Even though sooner or later someone unsympathetic in the family would have found out and the whole thing would’ve exploded in their faces. Looking back now, maybe it was all just the very worst idea ever.

  And now, even though he’d said all those comforting things to Delia, he knew he’d lied. Even though he felt the same about her, his newfound adoration for Lucy was something too powerful to deny.

  And he hadn’t been able to give Delia what she’d most wanted. After they’d left the alley, Gabriel had taken her back to her apartment. She’d tried to get him into bed with her, yet he had convinced her that he needed to get back to the party, to smooth the family’s ruffled feathers over him ducking out on the party.

  And truthfully, he had wanted to see Lucy again. He wanted it so much that he couldn’t disguise it. He only hoped that Delia wouldn’t pick up on it.

  He needed time to think, to weigh what he felt and what he knew, and to figure out what the hell he was doing and going to do. He needed to figure out what he really felt for both Delia and Lucy, and he needed to do it before he saw either one of them again. He couldn’t keep doing this, hurting them and keeping them in the dark. Not that Lucy was in the dark. She’d been a little cold when he returned to the party, but that had only lasted so long. By the time she’d left they were starting to look at each other in that infuriatingly infatuated way again.

  He’d wanted to follow her home, to grab her and hold her and kiss her beautiful, pouty lips. But he hadn’t. He’d gone home and tried his best to get some sleep. But what he’d dreamed of fitfully was all Lucy, and he’d woken more than once hungering for her to be beside him, to be in his arms.

  Laurel’s voice sang over the intercom. “Your fiancée, line one.”

  Gabriel snatched the receiver up so fast he almost dropped it. All his thoughts of trying to distance himself from Lucy until he’d figured things out flew out the window as he said, breathlessly, “Lucy? What can I do for you?”