Rebel North by J.B. Salsbury

Six

Gabriella

The private dining room is decorated with dark wood, aged wine barrels, and candlelight. I hold on a little tighter to Kingston’s arm when I spot his brother making his way toward us.

He stops a foot away, his smile aimed at me. His gaze darts to my scars, but he doesn’t stare like he did when I met him the first time. “And who do we have here?” He offers me his hand.

Kingston shifts on his feet in a way that brings him closer to me. “Don’t worry,” he says. “He’s the nice twin.”

Twin.I look back to the man with the offered hand and see him through the new information. “Gabriella,” I shake his hand, and he seems genuinely nice, not a hint of the serpent smile of his identical brother. “Nice to meet you.”

His smile falls a little. “Let me guess, you met Hayes first. You have no idea how hard it is to have to follow up that asshole.” He winks.

“I can imagine.” The tension leaves my muscles, and I settle back into my own skin. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“Hudson.” He motions for us to come inside the space.

Kingston introduces me to a sweet woman named Jordan with kind gray eyes and her husband Alexander, who is big and terrifying but didn’t once look at my scars.

A man with salt and pepper hair that I’m assuming is Kingston’s dad strolls toward us with a rocks glass a quarter full of amber liquid. “Princess! You made it!”

I recoil at his inappropriate nickname for his son and wonder just how much he knows of Kingston’s sexuality.

On the one hand, Kingston doesn’t hide his flamboyant side. His clothes are loud and colorful. Like tonight, he’s wearing pale-blue skinny slacks and a white button-up shirt with colorful birds printed on it. And to top it off, he’s wearing black eyeliner that makes the light yellow in his hazel eyes stand out. He’s breathtakingly beautiful. He’s going to make some man very happy.

“Be nice, August,” Hudson mumbles.

I figure out that the older man is August, and he’s glaring hard at my face.

Kingston stiffens at my side, and a nervous tension bleeds into the air.

“Gabriella,” I say and hold out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

August blinks, looks at Kingston, then back at me before taking my offered hand. “You’re new.” He releases my hand and smirks at his son. “Hope you got a discount on this one.” He chuckles and eyes my scar.

“Jesus,” Alexander growls.

“Such an asshole,” Jordan says loudly.

Kingston surges forward, but I dig my heels in and hold him back. “She’s not a fucking hooker,” he hisses.

August frowns. “Then why is she here with you?”

Even Hudson looks like he’s about to tear into his dad.

I roll my eyes because, come on, like I haven’t heard the shit that pours from an asshole’s mouth before? “I can see where your son gets his glowing personality.”

The older gentleman looks down his nose at me, confused.

“Oh, I’m referring to Hayes.” I continue through the stifled and snorted laughter of Kingston’s brothers. “You share the same wit and stellar people skills.”

His lips twist in disgust, but a blonde woman interrupts him before he has a chance to respond.

“Everyone is here. We can sit down now,” she says with a slight slur, like she’s had one too many chardonnays. Her eyes lazily fix on me, and she smiles. “Honey, what on earth happened to your face?”

“We’re done here.” Kingston grips my arm tightly to lead me away, but I resist, which is hard considering the foot of height he has on me and the fifty-plus pounds of muscle.

“This?” I point to a tiny freckle on my cheek. “Angel kiss.”

The woman points. “No. That scar.”

“Scar? Oh… this?” I turn to give them a full view, letting them ogle their impolite hearts out. “I got shanked in prison.” The older woman gasps. “Big lady, she was in for murder and B and E. She mutilated a wealthy woman so that she could steal her Louboutins.”

Hudson snorts, and Alexander rolls his lips between his teeth and stares at the floor. Jordan’s smile is wide, ear to ear, and she’s not doing a thing to conceal it.

“You were in prison?” The woman rears back with a snarl.

“No. I was volunteering. Foot rubs. Some people are so weird about their feet.”

Her horrified expression brings me joy, and I can feel Kingston laugh silently at my side.

“That is fascinating,” Jordan says, still smiling.

“Leslie, dear,” August says with an evil grin. “Why don’t you give her your plastic surgeon’s number? He’ll fix her up in no time.” He swings eyes that match the color of his son’s to me. “Give you a face to be proud of.”

Kingston’s muscles jump. “Fuck off, old man—”

I squeeze his arm hard enough to get his attention. “That’s a kind offer, Mr. North, but…” I make a show of checking out his wife’s face, boobs, and body, then grimace. “I’ll pass.”

Jordan snorts loudly then covers her mouth.

“Gabriella, um….” Hudson looks like he’s trying not to giggle. “How did you guys meet?”

“We met at my work, actually.” I don’t give any more information because I’m not sure how much of the story Kingston is comfortable telling.

“Really.” Jordan looks between us. Her husband follows her gaze but doesn’t seem super invested in the conversation as much as he is in her. “Where do you work?”

“City Hospice.” I make it a point to look at Kingston’s parents when I say it because there are two things wealthy people hate most in the world—aging and dying.

Sure enough, they both cringe.

“We should grab a drink,” Kingston says, and this time when he pulls me away, I let him.

“Thank you,” I say quietly when we’re out of earshot.

He lifts his chin to a server who comes ready to take our order. “If you want to leave, I understand.” He looks to the eager man in the black bow tie. “I’ll have a scotch on the rocks, anything over twenty years. She’ll have a dirty Kettle One martini with two olives.”

I startle and stare up at him. “How’d you know what I drink?”

He moves slowly but eventually looks down at me. “Lucky guess.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Figured you’d need something strong to get through the night.”

He’s not wrong.

I’m grateful to have that martini in my hand when Kingston’s brother Hayes walks in with a pretty brunette on his arm. I wonder what’s wrong with her that she chooses to be with a man who is constantly scowling and only speaks in barked single syllables.

We take our seats at a long table, and I breathe a sigh of relief when Jordan takes the seat at my left.

She puts her drink to her lips and says softly, “I don’t know if Kingston just fell in love with you for the way you handled August and Leslie, but I just did.”

“Their type is so predictable.” I place my napkin on my lap and notice how Kingston is listening to me and Jordan talk even though he’s pretending not to.

The mood at the table is tense, and the only person talking is August, who doesn’t seem bothered that no one is listening.

“So,” I say and rock into Kingston’s arm, hoping to play up the whole we’re a straight couple thing. “What’s good here?”

“Listen, you don’t have to stay. Just say the word, and you can go.”

“Are you kidding? I’ll never get another chance to eat here.” I smile, and that seems to relax him a little. “Besides, I have your back, remember?” Feeling his family’s eyes on us, I reach up and gently push back a lock of hair that had fallen against his forehead.

He freezes. I think he even holds his breath as I let my fingertips run along his temple before putting my hand in my lap. His skin is like velvet, so soft and smooth.

“Why don’t you order for me. I only get one chance to eat here. I don’t want to mess it up by ordering the wrong thing.”

“The—”

A waiter interrupts him. “Are you ready to order, Mademoiselle?” he says in a heavy French accent.

Kingston tilts his head to the man but doesn’t take his eyes off my lips. “Nous aurons tous les deux l’agneau et une bouteille de Château Calon-Segur, s’il te plait.”

“Très bien, merci.”

As the waiter moves on to the next order, I try to pick my jaw off the floor. “You speak French flawlessly,” I say, stupidly stating the obvious.

“I lived in France until I was sixteen.”

As if he could get any hotter.

Or any more out of my league.

In every possible way.

Kingston

“Growing up on Hunts Point taught me a lot about survival.” Gabriella takes a bite of her lamb, leaving August and Leslie to stare at her as if she’d grown a third eyeball. “You don’t know hunger until you’ve gone a week without food.”

“A week?” Leslie’s glazed-over eyes widen. “What did you people do for work?”

Gabriella shrugs. “My dad dealt meth. Mom sold BJs to the wealthy.” She points her fork at the couple. “You’d be surprised how many millionaires hit the slums for a little sucky-sucky.”

I hear Jordan snort-giggle, and the sound threatens to burst my own barely held control.

When Leslie slowly turns to glare at August, who suddenly finds his meal the most interesting thing in the room, I lose it and choke on a laugh.

Gabriella is fucking phenomenal.

She’s quick, witty, and lying through her teeth. She did not grow up poor—or spend any time volunteering in prison. She’s saying this shit to upset August and Leslie, and I want to hug her for it.

“I remember this one time I was in the Terminal Market. Don’t judge me, but…” She leans toward them and cups her mouth. “I used to steal food for my family,” she whispers, then leans back and sips her wine. “I ran into this kid who was getting into some trouble for giving an apple to a homeless boy. Anyway, long story short, turns out he was of royal lineage, there in disguise. He just wanted to see how the normal folk lived, ya know? I helped him escape from the authorities because I knew all the cracks and secret hiding places. We ended up dating for a while.” She sets down her wine and takes a bite of lamb.

“You dated a royal?” Leslie asks, clearly skeptical as she looks pointedly at Gabriella’s scar.

“I did,” she says matter of factly. “It didn’t work out, though. He had this weird fascination with magic carpets,” she mumbles, loud enough only for me and Jordan, who are closest to her, to hear.

A burst of laughter comes from my lips, and Jordan follows suit. Meanwhile, my brothers all stare at us like we’re insane.

“That’s, like, a whole new world,” Jordan says, then dissolves into laughter again.

Gabriella nods and smiles. “He never had a friend like me.”

I cover my mouth with my napkin and laugh as she and Jordan go back and forth talking about genies and monkeys wearing hats.

In the past, I’ve barely endured these family dinners, but tonight, I’m enjoying it. I don’t find myself checking the time, wishing the food would come quicker, or counting the seconds until I can get the hell away. Instead, I’m dreading the moment I have to say goodbye to Gabriella and never see her again.

“Fascinating story,” Hayes says sarcastically. “But I prefer non-fiction.”

Leave it to Hayes to crap all over my good mood.

“Dick,” Jordan says under her breath.

I second that.

Gabriella delicately places her fork and knife on her plate and folds her hands under her chin. “Why am I not surprised.”

Hayes’ eyes take on a predatory glint that has me sitting up taller in my chair. I’m not a violent man, I have never been, but given the way he’s looking at Gabriella like he’s gearing up to humiliate her, my mind conjures up images of blood and death.

“What’s your last name again?” he asks as if she’d already told him.

“Sterling,” she answers without missing a beat.

“Sterling. That name is so familiar. I believe I know a Sterling,” August says like the stuck-up snob that he is.

“Sterling…” Hayes deliberately sets down his silverware slowly. “As in Penn-Sterling?”

She doesn’t respond except for a slight clench of her jaw.

He sips his wine and shrugs. “Not many Penn-Sterlings living in poverty in New York.”

My stomach turns to concrete. The guy gets off on causing drama. He’s such a little bitch.

“Penn-Sterling?” August says predictably. “As in William Penn-Sterling?”

Gabriella doesn’t react to the name, not so much as a twitch. She smiles endearingly and looks between August and Hayes. “Who?”

“William Penn-Sterling,” August says, this time over-enunciating the name as if she’s hard of hearing.

She chews her lip then shrugs. “Never heard of him.”

Hayes huffs out a humorless laugh. “Penn-Sterling is one of the biggest multimedia corporations in the country, but something tells me you already knew that.”

She screws up her mouth and squints one eye as if she’s thinking hard, then shakes her head. “Nope, doesn’t ring a bell. But really, I don’t watch a lot of television. I prefer reading to mindless entertainment.”

So sharp, she continues to throw barbs at Hayes as she plays stupid, which only manages to drive him crazy.

“You think I believe you’ve lived in New York and never once heard of the Penn-Sterling dynasty?”

She blows out a breath and sighs. “Man, I wish I had. Imagine the ways I could’ve used my last name to swindle money out of people? Seriously, Hayes, where were you when I was ten and eating dog food out of a can? This information would have been a lot more helpful then.”

“Unbelievable,” Hayes mutters and shakes his head.

I happen to agree.

She turns to me and smiles. I don’t see even a hint of deception in her blue eyes, not a tinge of dishonesty. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she believes the lies she’s been telling tonight.

And I respect the hell out of her for that.

“That was interesting,”Gabriella says as I walk her outside to wait for her Uber.

I take the opportunity to press my palm to the small of her back as I guide her through a crowd of people. “Thank you for enduring it.”

We walk a few yards down the sidewalk away from the valet. The wind picks up a lock of her hair, and with delicate fingers, she gracefully tucks it back into place.

“Listen,” she says, looking up at me.

I dart my eyes away like I have been doing all night. Her introspective gaze makes me worry about what she might see.

“I know what it’s like to be the black sheep.” She smiles sadly. “I can’t imagine how hard it has been for you—”

“Understatement of the year.”

“—hiding who you are for fear of being rejected.”

I allow my gaze to lock with hers and settle. And, fuck, I feel that in my chest. “You have no idea.”

She grabs my hand and squeezes. Her skin is so soft and her palm so warm it makes me long for things I shouldn’t. “I do. Your family isn’t much different than mine, and although our struggles are different, I can’t imagine coming out to your family.”

Pump the breaks. Hold the fuck on. Did she say coming out?

“They don’t strike me as an overly tolerant or accepting bunch. Except Jordan. I really like her.”

“Wait…” I close my eyes as I replay the last ten seconds, wondering if I misheard. “Coming out?”

She shrugs. “Hayes made it pretty clear when he invited me. Although, I’m surprised you’d choose to tell him first.” She makes a face like she just sucked on a lemon. “He’s a grade-A dickface if you ask me.”

“Look, Gabriella, I’m not—”

“You don’t have to apologize for him. I’m glad he invited me tonight. Trust me, messing with your mom and dad was therapeutic.”

“Stepmom.”

She looks down at her phone as if it buzzed in her hand. “My Uber is close.” She turns toward the street to look out for the car.

She thinks I’m gay.

And closeted.

This isn’t the first time someone has mistaken me for being homosexual—I love fashion, and I don’t conform to my gender’s stereotypes. I’d have more fun at Fashion Week than I would at a Super Bowl, I prefer an elegant steak tartare to a burger, and I get facials rather than use the same soap on my face that I do on my balls. My clothes are colorful, I’m a fan of a floral pattern, and I own multiple brands of eyeliner.

But I am very much a straight man.

A white compact car pulls up in front of us, and a man gets out. “Are you Gabriella? I’m Manny.”

“Yes,” she says and turns to me. “This is me.”

I watch as Manny takes her in from behind, the way his eyes linger on the bare skin of her shoulder and then slip down and widen at her ass. He licks his lips.

“No.”

Her brows pinch together. “What?”

“I’ll take you home.”

A flicker of unease sparks in her eyes. “That’s crazy. I have an Uber right here.” She backs away from me, and a growl bubbles up from my chest as I resist the urge to snag her and pull her closer.

She’s slipping away.

This is it.

There’s no reason for us to ever see each other again after tonight. And that’s the way it should be. She doesn’t belong in my world, and I certainly don’t belong in hers.

And yet, my fingers ache to reach out.

She opens the car door, and with one slender leg inside, she turns back. “If you ever need a wingman again—”

“Yes!” Oh shit, did I that just say that?

“Really?” With her phone already in her hand, she asks for my number.

Without giving my mouth permission to do so, I rattle off the digits, and seconds later, my phone vibrates with an incoming text.

From her.

“Text me when you need me.” She flashes another gorgeous smile. “Goodnight.”

It isn’t until the taillights of the Uber disappear in the distance that I respond. “Goodnight, Bee.”