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 me."
Damian made a small gesture with his wine glass, conceding the point. "Proceed, then. Scandalize me."
Gabriel sat back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, eyes gleaming with mischief and just enough hesitation to be genuine.
"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 names. Or clothes, apparently."
Damian blinked once. "You painted a foreign nobleman nude? No, first of all, do you paint?"
