Putting the book back on the shelf, Connor’s gaze floated to two pictures in wooden frames. One photograph was of a young woman with a book—much like the ones on the shelf—opened and covering the bottom half of her face. Her mouth wasn’t shown, but there was no denying the smile in her blue eyes or the obnoxious French writing scrawled over the cover of the book. The second picture was of a young Gabriel with a wide grin and black tie draped around a white button-down shirt with his arms wrapped around the waist of a young woman. A curtain of dark, curly hair rained over her face as she twisted away from him, but there was no denying the playful grin beaming from her. The clinking of glass alerted him to someone behind him. He swiveled, and ice ran through his veins. Gabriel lingered at a drink cart set up beside the lone brown leather chair on the other side of the desk. He had the lip of a crystal decanter pressed against a short glass. Amber liquid flowed from one container to the other. Gabriel waited until his glass was filled before lifting his gaze to Connor….