Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL) Chapter 190: Chapter 185: Date (2)

Gabriel gave a long, dramatic pause, staring into his half-empty wine glass as if consulting the wine for advice.

Then: "Fine. But you’re not allowed to gloat."

Damian looked intrigued. "I don’t gloat."

Gabriel snorted. "You exist in a state of gloat. Don’t lie to ."

Damian made a small gesture with his wine glass, conceding the point. "Proceed, then. Scandalize ."

Gabriel sat back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, eyes gleaming with mischief and just enough hesitation to be genuine.fɾēewebnσveℓ

"I almost got disowned over a painting," he said.

Damian’s brows lifted. "A painting."

Gabriel nodded, lips quirking. "One of the ministry exhibitions. A few years before the rebellion. I was barely eighteen. It was a private commission from a Paisian diplomat’s wife. She wanted a portrait of her lover. I didn’t ask for nas. Or clothes, apparently."

Damian blinked once. "You painted a foreign nobleman nude? No, first of all, do you paint?"

"Nope, i didn’t until then. She really wanted to do it, but looking back, I believe her lover had a thing for ."

Damian slowly set down his wineglass, golden eyes fixed on Gabriel like he’d just confessed to leading a coup with a watercolor set.

"You didn’t paint," he repeated, "but you agreed to do a portrait of a naked foreign nobleman. At eighteen."

Gabriel smiled, entirely too pleased with himself. "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds reckless."

"That’s because it was reckless."

Gabriel shrugged. "I was young, flattered, and significantly underpaid, and no allowance because I pissed off Lucius. And I thought, how hard can it be?"

Damian rubbed a hand across his mouth, barely hiding the grin that threatened to break loose. "Let guess, you were halfway through and realized the anatomy was more complicated than expected?"

Gabriel leaned forward, elbows on the table, absolutely unapologetic. "Actually, the anatomy was very flattering. The problem was that he wouldn’t stop talking. About his travels. His politics. His feelings. I had to pretend I cared while painting his very ambitious ego onto canvas."

Damian laughed, low and sharp. "You unintentionally seduced a diplomat’s lover, committed a minor diplomatic offense, and discovered your artistic talent while under duress."

Gabriel raised his dessert fork like a toast. "My entire life in a sentence."

Damian’s smile lingered, softer now. "You’re trouble."

"And you’re surprised?" Gabriel arched a brow, all amusent. "There is more to this."

Damian rested his forearm on the edge of the table, fingers still loosely tangled in his wineglass stem, and tilted his head just enough to signal interest. "Go on," he said, his voice low with amusent. "I’m already invested in your villain origin story."

"Well, there was an exhibition at the Ministry of Arts," Gabriel muttered. "I’ve rented one of their studios. I was still on bad terms with Lucius."

Damian blinked once, slowly, and leaned in with the grace of a man who genuinely enjoyed chaos.

"You left a nude portrait at the Ministry of Arts?"

Gabriel gave a long-suffering sigh and stabbed a piece of fruit with his fork. "It wasn’t technically nude. The subject had a scarf."

"That makes it worse," Damian said, his voice positively gleaming with laughter. "A scarf? That implies intention."

"It was intentional," Gabriel muttered into his dessert. "The client wanted to be rembered as seductive and untad."

Damian covered his mouth briefly with the edge of his hand, clearly trying not to laugh aloud. "And no one noticed it wasn’t part of the official exhibit?"

Gabriel lifted his eyes, flat and sharp. "They noticed. Just not in ti. So poor assistant thought the gilded edge ant it was ant for panel display. By the ti I returned with my coffee, the Duchess of Solvenaire was having an ether-induced crisis, and Theo was halfway into a breakdown."

Damian was grinning now. Fully, openly. "What did the panel say?"

"Nothing." Gabriel popped the fruit into his mouth, chewed, then added with a shrug, "They continued the exhibition like the painting was supposed to be there. It was a hit."

Damian stared at him, incredulous. "They left it up?"

Gabriel gave a small, proud smile as he speared another piece of fruit. "The curator panicked halfway through the scandal and decided to commit. Rewrote the plaque by the end of the day to call it ’an exploration of vulnerable masculinity in post-ether societies’."

Damian nearly choked on his wine. "You’re joking."

"I have the catalogue print to prove it," Gabriel said, smug now. "They renad it Veil of Innocence. The diplomat’s wife sent a thank-you basket."

Damian set his glass down with a thud, leaning forward, eyes wide with unfiltered delight. "Veil of Innocence?" he repeated, incredulous. "That’s what they called it?"

Gabriel smirked over the rim of his fork. "She was very fond of irony."

Damian covered his mouth with his hand, shoulders shaking as he tried—and failed—not to laugh. "You painted a naked Paisian nobleman, possibly seduced the client and the subject, and they called it Veil of Innocence?"

Gabriel nodded, perfectly composed. "There were flowers in the background. Very tasteful. Very misunderstood."

Damian leaned back in his chair, still laughing. "You’re not a scandal; you’re a diplomatic hazard."

"I was eighteen," Gabriel said for the third ti, now in his best version of wide-eyed sincerity. "And I didn’t seduce anyone. I was the painter, and it appeared that my style qualified as abstract."

Damian choked on a laugh, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth to contain it. "Abstract?" he echoed, his voice sowhere between admiration and disbelief.

Gabriel gave an elegant shrug, swirling the wine in his glass like he hadn’t just rewritten art history by accident. "That’s what the review said. ’Raw. Visceral. A daring deconstruction of form and intent.’ Which I assu is how critics say, ’I don’t know what I’m looking at, but I’m afraid to admit it’."

Damian leaned forward, elbows resting casually on the table, golden eyes sharp with mirth. "And the subject? What did he say?"

"He sent a brooch," Gabriel said blandly. "Paisian silver. I think it was shaped like a swan."

Damian stared at him. "A swan."

"A mating swan," Gabriel clarified with all the composure of a man discussing irrigation strategy. "Very delicate craftsmanship."

Damian buried his face in his hands for a beat. When he looked up again, he was smiling like a man who’d just been handed the best gossip of the decade. "You really are dangerous."

"I was eighteen," Gabriel repeated primly, then added, "And it was educational."

Damian tilted his head, studying him with both amusent and sothing warr underneath. "You’ve lived a whole second life before even setting foot in my court."

Gabriel t his gaze without flinching. "It was a desperate call. I thought that the scandals would keep Olivier away. I was wrong."