Chapter 83: Gabriel’s Proposal

Gabriel had been waiting for that question.

But a man like him never revealed his hand too quickly.

Instead, he opened the polished cigar box resting on his desk and selected one with deliberate care. He ceremoniously clipped the end, then lit it. The flame flickered between them before settling into a steady glow. He drew in a long puff and leaned back, exhaling smoke as though time itself bent to his pace.

Alexander waited.

Patiently.

He had known men like Gabriel, men who mistook theatrics for power. As crown prince, he had endured far grander displays. Compared to that, this was almost amateur.

What he had only recently understood, however, was something far more telling: Gabriel did not consider Maximilian family.

Not after his father’s death.

And with that knowledge, Maximilian’s words from their last meeting echoed differently in his mind.

“I’m alone.”

At the time, Alexander had brushed it off.

Now it carried weight.

He loved Catherine fiercely. She was his first responsibility, his darling sister. But, Maximilian had become something close to a younger brother, this life, too… the stubborn boy who once glared at him for carrying the princess in his arms.

He would not abandon either of them.

Gabriel took another slow drag before finally reaching for his phone.

“Where are you?” he asked curtly when the line connected. “Come to the office.”

Alexander watched the performance unfold with mild detachment. It felt like observing a theatre troupe rehearsing a predictable play. He would have preferred spending his Sunday elsewhere, but this was politics.

And politics rarely respected weekends.

A minute later, the office door opened.

A young man stepped inside.

“Godfrey, my grandson,” Gabriel introduced smoothly.

Alexander rose just enough to shake his hand. Godfrey’s grip was firm but cool, calculated. They exchanged polite nods before Godfrey took a seat.

Gabriel began his act in earnest.

“Godfrey is acquainted with many influential individuals,” he said, gesturing lazily with his cigar. “Men from Capitol Hill. They’re quite cooperative when he makes requests.”

Alexander listened without interruption.

“He mentioned a young man in need of investment—a senator’s son. Parents are always grateful when we support their children. That gratitude tends to linger.”

Alexander smiled faintly.

So much for pride being priceless.

“And,” Gabriel continued, “Godfrey is at an age where he ought to settle down. He doesn’t even have a girlfriend. He requires a date for an upcoming event at Capitol Hill.” He chuckled lightly. “You’re welcome to attend as well.”

Alexander inclined his head, waiting.

“I’ve heard the Attorney General of this state may step down soon. The Governor will need a replacement. Attending that gathering would provide… proximity.”

There it was.

The bait.

Attorney General.

Influence.

A fast track through closed doors.

Alexander could see the path Gabriel was laying before him, brick by brick.

Then came the final piece.

“By the way,” Gabriel added casually, nodding at Godfrey to pour a glass of scotch for their guest, “I hear you have a sister. An academic, isn’t she? Would she be available to attend? I saw her enjoying herself quite well at the Winthorp.”

The deliberate mention was not lost on him.

“Perhaps they’ll get along,” Gabriel continued smoothly. “Affection can grow in unexpected ways. If they become close… well, families become permanent partners. And who knows? You might find yourself walking corridors far beyond this state. Perhaps even the White House.”

And there it was.

Not just money.

Not just influence.

Catherine.

Offered as currency.

Alexander leaned back slowly, crossing his legs once more. He schooled his features carefully, suppressing the surge of fury that threatened to surface.

How dare he?

Did Gabriel truly believe he would trade his sister’s life for a seat in office?

Yes, such arrangements were not unheard of in their world. Strategic marriages were as old as politics itself.

But knowing it existed did not make it tolerable.

He accepted the glass from Godfrey and took a measured sip.

“This is certainly… a neat proposition,” he said calmly.

He set the glass down, picked up his phone, and rose to his feet.

“I’ll get back to you.”

He turned toward the door.

Gabriel subtly signaled Godfrey, who moved to block his path without hesitation.

Alexander smiled.

“Oh, and regarding my sister’s schedule,” he added lightly, slipping his phone into his pocket, “I believe Maximilian would be more familiar with it than I am.”

He met Gabriel’s gaze deliberately.

“You can ask him.”

Then he stepped past Godfrey and walked out.

Behind him, Godfrey stood momentarily stunned.

Gabriel’s expression hardened, anger flashing through the calm veneer. Of course, he knew Catherine was currently staying with Maximilian. But leaving that leverage in Maximilian’s hands was unacceptable. Maximilian had proven unwilling to serve the family’s broader ambitions.

Only if she married Godfrey would the Whitmores truly benefit.

“Let’s wait,” Gabriel said at last, extinguishing the cigar with unnecessary force.

Godfrey shrugged faintly. “Hunter Alex understands Maximilian can’t advance his career, Grandpa. He’ll choose wisely. He’s probably putting on airs now.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.

“He better,” he replied.

—–

Alexander slid into his Bentley and shut the door, the quiet luxury of the cabin sealing him away from the lingering scent of cigar smoke and manipulation. He pulled out his phone.

He could almost picture Maximilian, sitting stiffly somewhere, jaw tight, and pretending not to wait.

Alexander’s lips curved as he typed.

[He offered me a State AG seat. What can you offer me?]

He tossed the phone into its holder and started the engine. A second later, his phone chimed. He glanced at the screen.

[The peaceful and happy life Catherine wants and deserves.]

Alexander chuckled under his breath.

“Of course,” he murmured. “You always know what to say.”

The words were right. Simple. Direct. Exactly what Catherine would value.

But words were easy. Action was what counted.

He shifted the car into gear and drove off.

—

Back at the house, Catherine found Maximilian still sitting on the couch, deep in thought, his brows slightly drawn as though he were fighting an invisible battle.

She stood in front of him, holding a plate.

“Want some apple pie?” she asked lightly.

It was her mother’s recipe. Sophia had patiently taught her how to perfect the crust, how to balance sweetness with spice. She always baked it when she missed home.

If not for the bracelet binding her here, she would be in her family’s kitchen right now.

She didn’t want to bring Maximilian into that space. Her home was sacred.

Maximilian, distracted, reached out for the slice.

She paused dramatically.

“Oh. I almost forgot,” she said, turning slightly away with the plate. “This pie isn’t vegan.”

His hand froze midair.

He blinked.

At that exact moment, Arcturus trotted over, tail wagging enthusiastically.

Catherine’s expression melted into exaggerated affection. “Aww, poor doggy… You can have some. Let me blow on it first, so you don’t burn your tongue.”

She crouched slightly, feeding the dog a piece while taking a bite herself.

The rich scent of apple and butter filled the room.

Maximilian stared in disbelief as his own dog shamelessly devoured what he had been denied.

Before she could react, he stood, walked over, and snatched the remaining pie straight off the plate.

“Hey!” Catherine lunged for it, but he was faster.

He took an unapologetically large bite.

“Mm,” he hummed, licking his finger slowly. “Perfect.”

His eyes fluttered closed as he inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma. In a matter of moments, he had eaten half the pie by himself.

He leaned back against the couch, rubbing his stomach contentedly, eyes still closed in exaggerated bliss.

Catherine stared at him.

“What now?” she asked. “You’re not vegan anymore? Or are you planning to check yourself into a rehabilitation center after this?”

She meant to sound teasing.

But watching him eat her cooking—watching him look genuinely satisfied—stirred something unexpected in her chest.

She only felt that warmth when her family praised her food. She had never liked sharing it with anyone outside that circle.

And yet seeing him like this, relaxed and content, did something strange to her heart.

Maximilian cracked one eye open and gave her that infuriatingly youthful smirk.

“I’m going full carnivore,” he declared lazily. “If I’m going to ask your family for your hand in marriage, I need to impress them.”

Catherine froze.

How could he say that so casually?

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