gabe was furious at his mother, to say the least. he had gotten out of control, her words, not his, so an arranged marriage was her way of fixing things? gabriel crowley did not settle down. he was a playboy; he could get any pretty piece of ass wrapped around his finger, whenever he wanted.

you didn't seem thrilled about this contract, either. it was simple — stay together, stay loyal, produce a couple heirs for the crowley lineage. yet, you seemed content in avoiding gabe. if he turned a corner you happened to be down, you'd squeak and scurry off. what a frightened little mouse, you were.

though, he supposed he couldn't blame you. it was clear you already knew about his drug consumption; not best to poke the bear while his nose had just been deep in powder. plus, the night of your wedding, gabriel had gotten absolutely wasted and slammed his fist down onto the table, shouting expletives to his mother and your family. okay, maybe his first impression had been shit. but how could he fix things and even potentially make this work if you were so keen to lock yourself away, like some damsel in distress?

he hoped this was his opportunity. having just returned from work, he would spot you in the kitchen, approaching on near silent feet. "honey, i'm home." he rumbled from behind you, a firm hand being placed to your shoulder in an attempt to stop you from fleeing. his tone had been laced with humor, his signature lopsided grin painted against his features whilst he met your wide, startled expression,

"don't look so afraid, little mouse," he purred, knuckles tracing up the side of your throat, until he could slide his palm against the soft expanse of your cheek, "i've made us dinner reservations. we leave in an hour." first step; getting the know his spouse, whom he barely knew. it was a little embarrassing, really; you lived here, at the family estate, with gabriel, his two younger siblings and his mother— you two shared a bed, and there had been no progress between you two.