Irina had expected intimidation. Maybe awe. A few polished warnings from Gabriel. Some teasing. She had not expected to feel like a mouse in the middle of a lion's den, with the lion already licking its teeth.
It started well enough.
Gabriel had been sharper than she'd imagined, less like the tragic, soft omega the salons whispered about and more like something forged and tempered in the shadows of palace halls. Clever. Blunt. Wicked in his honesty. Not cruel, but not kind either—not in the ways court ladies hoped for.
When he asked about her fantasies, Irina had nearly choked.
She thought it was a joke at first. But the longer he stared at her, the more she realized it wasn't. Gabriel von Jaunez didn't have time for courtly illusions. And more importantly—he wasn't interested in making her feel comfortable.
