Silver Bullets by TheRoost (read books for money txt) 📕

It was midnight in Paris; isn't that how all great romances start? Midnight in a romantic city, or a party that your friends dragged you to, or your parents introducing you to a hot neighbor in a small country town. Romeo and Juliet

started out in Venice, Wuthering Heights

takes place in a English moor; they are perhaps the greatest love stories of all time, and they are both tragedies.

Isn't that ironic? The greatest love stories end in tragedy. Two teens, so desperately in love, but were supposed to hate each other entirely, had to die to be together. And even then, many others had to die because one boy gave his heart to one girl that he barley knew, but had to hate, because a Monague and a Capulet couldn't shut the hell up and settle their differences like normal people. In Wuthering Heights

, the only thing that kept them apart were stupid circumstances. It's terrible, just terrible.

But that's not my love story; in fact, my love story is pretty great.

I was lounging on my bed, clad in only a bathrobe, my black ebony hair sprawled over my red pillows. It was a honeymoon suite; it would make sense that everything was in it was red and pink, almost universal symbols for romance.

Except red; funny, it's also a symbol for war, hatred, and bloodshed.

Huh.

But that's not the point, is it? I'm waiting for the man of my dreams, my night in shining armor, my savior and my king; Gabriel Kingsley, head of the largest English law firm in history. I shiver, biting my lip in anticipation. Even his name

turns me on; and, God forgive me, I have been waiting for this night for too damn long. He's been driving me wild since the day we met.

It was in a court case, actually. He was the prosecuting attorney against my idiot brother, Theodore, who got involved in the Irish mob. We're English-American, for Christ sake, what the hell is he doing with the Irish? My father, Lord Hamlet, was accused of his association with the mob when I was a young miss of 7. Thankfully, my father had the money for a brilliant lawyer who got him out of that ridiculous charge. Only idiots get associated with the wrong crowd.

But, that's beside the point. I saw his curly brown hair dripping with sweat, the determination in his eyes, a fierce scowl on his lip as he fought to put my brother in jail. And he should have, it would have taught the scoundrel a lesson. But, again, my father used the same bloody lawyer to get him out of his fix, but I got Gabriel. I walked up to him after the case, clad in a innocent looking purple suit, as he whispered furiously with an elder gentleman.

As I approached, I only caught one sentence before my presence was known; "Dammit, Kingsley, do this or your off the case!" The older man turned to me, shock barely registering in his eyes before he tipped his hat and walked away.

I recognized him then; George Conrad Hale, an old lawyer and great-grandson of the original founder of the law firm where Gabriel worked. His hair was wispy and thin, but full of a crimson color, and his eyes held the same stunning sparkle my grandmother claimed made every sensible girl fall head-over-heels for him. Some of the older ones still do, even though he lives the life of a spinster. It was rumored he has a mistress in every country he's stepped foot in, and a child in at least 8 of them. He was still fit for a man of 64, and Gabriel was a fine specimen of a rugged, roguish 29 year old.

A perfect match of the "vixen of London", aging at a round 22; meaning myself, of course.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Kingsley," I said politely, giving him a dazzling smile that I had perfected over the years.

He seemed taken aback by my sudden appearance, looking me over in a hungry way. Now that I think of it, it was more like he was evaluating me that admiring me. His green eyes flitted up and down my chest, but I fought back my flush. It wasn't the time yet. "Good afternoon," he had replied, his voice like silk and honey. "I do not believe I have the honor of knowing your acquaintance."

I smiled at him, fighting the urge to bat my big blue eyes. "I am afraid I am not in the same predicament, Mr. Kingsley. Then again, I dare say there aren't many people in London who don't know who you are."

His eyes seemed to sadden for a moment. "Not all know who I really am, love, and almost no one ever will."

I laced my arm through his, bracing myself for my most dazzling smile. "Well, Mr. Kingsley, I will have to change that, won't I?"

He smiled at me and began to lead me down the street, my heart jumping out of my chest. "I believe you shall."

That afternoon we went for coffee and bagels, and he didn't learn my name then. Instead, we planned to meet there or at his estate whenever we wanted to get together. It was the first of hundreds of dates. When my brother got arrested again, only 3 years later, he recognized me as a witness against Theodore.

"Laura, love, I didn't know you were Theodore's sister," He told me over coffee after the trial, contempt and victory swimming in his eyes as he probably picture my brother led away in handcuffs.

I gave a half shrug, eager to move on. "You never asked."

He grabbed my arm and spun me around, his usually playful face deadly serious.

"I do believe I asked, many a time, who you were, which includes family.

Did I not?"

I glared at him as I broke free of his grip. "See why I said nothing? It changes everything."

"You bet it does!" He yelled, turning on his heel. I heard him mutter, almost to himself, "The game has changed, and I hoped it wouldn't."

That night, he asked me for my hand in marriage. Of course I said yes; he had told me he loved me not 2 weeks before.

I must admit, I am getting rather cold and impatient. I jumped off the bed, softly tip-toeing across the padded pink shag carpet. I heard Gabriel rustle around in the other room, a cellphone in hand. Maybe I could surprise him.

I leaned closer to the door, wanting to have the most perfect timing for a sexy interruption when I heard another voice, clearly not on the telly or the cell.

"Gabriel, you have f**ked up," a voice stage-whispered, anger clearly present. It took me a moment, but I recognized the voice; George Hale, the very same man my Gabriel spoke to the day we met. "You weren't supposed to marry

her, dammit."

"The assignment, as I recall, was to allow her to get as close to my alter-ego as possible, and I to her father, and if that involves marriage, then it involves marriage." Gabriel coolly argued.

How deliciously interesting.

"But things will get messy!"

"How? I see no possible way."

"What if you are assigned another mission? It's been 3 years, and the agency needs you to have active cases as well as this."

"I'm nearly positive the MI6 can do without me."

MI6? What does Gabriel have to do with the British spy network? We are moving to America, after all. He is expanding his law group to the States, he shouldn't be worried about the MI6.

"For Christ sake, you know

they can't! We are stretched as thin as the Yanks, dammit! And do you know how much of an insult it is to have this bastard cornered for nearly 25 years and not been able to put him behind bars?"

"I understand that, but if I have one more year, I'm positive that Laura's father will be behind bars."

Daddy? What does Gabriel want with him?

One of them sighed, and I am assuming it was Hale, because he then said "Look, Marcus, you need to put him behind bars. You've lied to this girl about everything that you are. She can't love a lie."

Marcus?

"You don't know that

!" Gabriel snarled. But why should he? Hale was addressing another man named Marcus. Unless-

"Your idiot father thought so too! So did my daughter! Look where it got them! They can't stand the bloody sight of each other because of 10 years of lies. Your my grandson, and you know I love you, but they can't stand to look at you because it reminds them of each other! Do you want that?"

He's lied to me...I love a man who never was who he said he was?

"I'll make it work. I'll put the bastard behind bars and fake my death or something. Start over."

I screamed.

The conversation froze, and my heart stopped. I backed away from the door, tears falling freely down my face. I couldn't breathe. I could barely comprehend what I heard.

But I did, and that's what terrified me. All the strange calls, the mysterious remarks, the vague answers when I would visit his office, all his trips around the world. Everything made sense now, and it broke my heart.

He loved me though, didn't he? He wanted to make it work, right? Could I live with the fact that my husband wanted to destroy all that my father worked for?

No, I couldn't. I cried even more, falling onto the bed. I loved him dearly, I loved his lies

. How could I even tell that his love was honest? I couldn't love a lie, that much Mr. Hale had right; I needed to know the real him. I couldn't deal with loving a fraud.

My beloved Gabriel, he wasn't even Gabriel! He was Marcus, and I knew nothing at all about him. And he was walking over to me, Hale behind him, a grim mask on both their faces.

God, Marcus looked beautiful. That was the one thing I knew. As I gazed at him, tears still streaming down my cheeks, I felt my heart expand with all the love I grew to have and burst at the heartbreak I was forced to endure.

How could he?

"So you know," He whispered, his voice detached and even.

"I suppose I do," I replied, hugging my robe tighter. I looked at his gorgeous, wondrous green eyes. "How could you?"

This seemed to startle