Page 98 of Forged

I return his smile. “Hello, Gabriel.”

Up close I can see the heat in his eyes. His gaze moves briefly over my dress, before returning to my face.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he says.

“Thank you.”

Lars glances between us, the corner of his mouth lifting as if he is quietly entertained by the exchange.

Gabriel gestures toward the dining room behind us. “Shall we?”

The hostess greets us at the front desk, offering us a smile before leading us through the dining room toward a corner table near the windows. As we sit, the arrangement feels strangely natural. Lars takes the seat beside me in the corner, surely so he can view the room. Gabriel settles across from us. The air around the table feels charged with possibility.

Gabriel breaks the silence. “I’m glad you invited me out this evening.”

Lars nods. “So am I.”

Lars’ hand slides onto my knee beneath the table. It’s warm, and my body is unmistakably aware of exactly where this night might lead.

Gabriel sits next to me,with Neomi on my other side. He’s relaxed, with one arm resting against the back of the empty chair beside him, a glass of whiskey in front of him while the waiter pours our wine. Nothing about him feels stiff or rehearsed. He watches the room the way a man does when he has spent time in a lot of unfamiliar places.

Most people would miss it, but I don’t.

Neomi reaches for her glass beside me, the blue silk of her dress catching the candlelight between us. I can only guess that she chose it deliberately, and judging by the flicker of Gabriel’s attention when we first arrived, he noticed too.

Gabriel focuses on me. “You picked a good place.”

“It’s a favorite of mine. Quiet enough for conversation and the chef is talented.”

Neomi leans toward the table, studying him with open curiosity.

“Do you spend a lot of time eating in places like this?” she asks.

Gabriel’s mouth curves as he nods. “I’m not much of a cook, so yeah, I eat in restaurants most evenings.”

“What line of work are you in?” she asks.

He lifts his glass, considering the question as he takes a slow sip. “I work in the markets.”

I watch him. “Trading?”

“Yes,” he says simply. The answer is casual enough that most people would accept it without thinking twice. It is also vague enough that it could mean almost anything.

Neomi tilts her head thoughtfully. “So, you sit in front of a computer all day and make millions?”

Gabriel laughs quietly. “I wish it worked that way.”

“It doesn’t?” Her head tilts.

“Oh, it does sometimes,” he admits. “The trick is surviving the days when it doesn’t.”

That answer feels more honest.

“What kind of trading?” I ask.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Short-term positions mostly. Volatility can be very profitable if you’re paying attention.”

“How long have you lived in Chicago?” Neomi asks.