[𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒] [𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍]
Gabriel Sinclair was no saint, and he made no pretenses about it.
Ruthless, cunning, and unhinged -those words only begin to scratch the surface of his true nature.
Like a merciless hurricane, h...
NOTICE [I know you're all eager for the new chapter, but please hold your horses—this announcement is important]
For those following the story as chapters drop, you might've noticed this one came out a bit later than usual. It's a pivotal one for the rest of the story, so I truly didn't want to rush it. In my defense, it's over 10,000 words, hence it took a bit more time.
I literally had to split it up, so you spoiled peeps are getting a double update! Consider it my apology and a big thank you for your patience.
To be totally honest, I've been struggling to meet the weekly deadlines for a couple of weeks now. Trying to get a chapter out every week has become super challenging and as a perfectionist, it's even harder to balance everything.
So, after much thought, I've decided to post only when the chapter feels perfect. I'll still aim for a new chapter every two weeks, but I can't promise exact dates! This way, you won't have to wait too long, and I'll have [hopefully] enough time to produce something good. I'm not going to lie, I feel a bit bad about the change, but I wanted to be transparent with you guys.
I hope you'll find it worth the wait. Thank you for your understanding and unwavering support.
Now enough rambling—enjoy this one because it's... packed.
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"How cruel. Your veins are full of ice-water and mine are boiling." — Emily Brontë
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"You might want to brush up on your manners," Gabriel remarks, his breath a sultry whisper against my ear. "Keeping someone waiting isn't exactly the height of etiquette."
Turning my head to confront him, my breath catches in my throat when, instead of his eyes, I find myself mere inches from his lips. Gabriel's towering height prompts him to lean in slightly to reach my ear, and his lips stretch subtly under the pull of our involuntary closeness. In a reflexive motion, I jerk my head back, searching for breathing room, only to be met with a stabbing pain behind my skull.
Blasted pillar.
"I should've known better than to expect you to sit there like a saint," I mutter under my breath, the words more of a self-rebuke than a statement meant for anyone else's ears.
"Saint?" Gabriel echoes, his tone dripping with sarcasm, as though the word itself tastes bitter. "Is there no limit to your naivety?"
"And does your understanding of figurative language have no starting point? It's a metaphor, for heaven's sake," I retort, irritation wrinkling my nose in frustration. Gabriel remains unmoved, his expression impassive. "If you've got nothing better to do than run your dense mouth, the door's right there," I add, gesturing impatiently toward the exit.
