Gabriel and Breah

Chapter 1: Breah

"How's the head?"

Shaking my head to try to clear the fogginess, the man in front of me started to come into focus. When he did, everything in me froze.

He smiled, revealing two dimples that made him even more attractive in an evil villain kind of way. Something I suspected he knew. Had I not known him to be a horrible man, I would have said he was charming. But this was Gabriel's worst enemy and if Gabriel was aware that James had me, I knew he would be going out of his mind and there would be bloodshed.

"Are you going to kill me?" I choked out.

Bastard grinned at me then, chuckling softly. "No. I'm merely going to provide you with some information and then let you go. There are other ways to destroy a man than by killing someone he loves."

I swallowed and said nothing.

"Does the name 'Garrett' mean anything to you?"

I shook my head.

"Interesting," he said. "Especially considering that it's the name of your man's son."

"He doesn't have a son."

Reaching to the table at my side, he grabbed a manila envelope. "Handsome little boy. The resemblance to dear old dad is amazing."

He tapped some pictures into my hands and I was looking into the face of Gabriel's son, no doubt about that. No more than three, the little boy had the same brilliant green eyes of his father, the same exact shade of dark brown hair, even the same curve to his eyebrows. The next picture showed Garrett in Gabriel's arms, Gabriel pressing a kiss to his son's cheek. In the third picture, Gabriel was pushing Garrett on a swing, and father and son were laughing.

I knew the pictures were recent. Just a month ago, for his birthday, I'd given him that very same Black Sabbath T-shirt. And three weeks ago, he'd worn it for the first and only time so far on a day when he said he had club business to attend to and had disappeared until the next day.

That he'd lied to me was bad enough, but the last three pictures were what killed me.

Gabriel, his son and the boy's mother were eating dinner together at a pizza place, and then another showed the three of them walking together, the woman's hand curled around Gabriel's bicep, her head on his shoulder, Garrett in his other arm.

"I'm so sorry to cause you such pain," James said, placing the last picture into my hand.

In his coup de grace, Gabriel was kissing the woman on the lips, his hand gripping the back of her head.

As he did with me.

"No, you're not," I said, refusing to give in to the tears.

With a bark of laughter, James continued to destroy my happiness. "He found out about the boy a year ago. Moved them right into his house. Did you know he had a house? I believe he's been with you for seven months? He spends three or four nights a week with them. Apparently, he doesn't think enough of you to let you into his life fully or to even be faithful to you, and from these pictures, you obviously shouldn't trust him. All those nights he told you he had business, he was with them, spending the night with his other woman. Making a happy little family."

Looking James straight in the eye, I forced myself not to give him a reaction. "Is there anything else?"

He looked taken aback. If James was waiting for tears and anger, he'd be waiting a long time as I'd been raised in the most stoic of families and emotions in front of others was just not done.

"No, my work here," he gestured to the pictures, "is done. Feel free to keep them. A little souvenir of our time together. Maybe you can frame them."

I had plans for those pictures, no worries.