18. Bella

18

BELLA

I wake up the next morning sore in a pleasant sort of way, realizing that I've gotten to sleep in past my usual alarm. The bed is soft and warm, inviting, and I burrow my head deeper into the pillow, wondering how long I can stay here.

The second thing I realize is that Gabriel has slept in, too. And he's still in bed with me.

He curled up behind me, at some point in the night. His arm is slung over my waist, his hard, muscular body pressed against my back. He came to bed naked, too—I can feel every inch of his smooth, bare skin…and his hard cock, nestled against my spine.

I resist the urge to squirm against him. Only once . That was what I told him. Just like I told him that after he took my virginity, our relationship would go back to being platonic. Professional, even. We've crossed that line so many times now that it's miles behind us. I can't already cross the line that I just set down before our wedding.

Even if the feeling of him hot and hard behind me makes me want to roll over and wrap my legs around him, so he can slide into me and make me come like that all over again.

I never knew it was possible to come as many times as he made me last night. I think I counted four—but I could have been wrong. It was hard to keep anything straight when my entire body was nothing but a puddle of blissful sensation, when he seemed determined to wring every last drop of it out of me that he could.

The thought makes me shiver, and that's enough to wake Gabriel.

He stirs behind me, his hips arching a little as he sleepily presses his erection into me. The feeling of it makes me gasp, my body involuntarily arching back against him, and in a flash, I'm suddenly on my back with him leaning over me.

The covers are draped over his waist, all of his bare, muscular upper half-revealed. I can see all the way down to where his heavy erection is now laying against my belly, throbbing eagerly. It takes every last bit of my self-control not to wind my legs around his hips, tilt mine up, and pull him into me.

I want him again. And from the sleepily desirous look on his face, I think he can see that written plainly on mine.

"Good morning," he says softly, his voice still a sleepy rasp, and I shift beneath him. I can't help it—and I also can't help but notice the way his muscles flex at that movement, his hand tightening on the pillow next to my head. I can tell he's fighting the urge to slip into me, too, to slowly fuck us both awake, and the thought only heightens my growing desire, as I try to remember why I insisted that we couldn't have sex past our wedding night.

The stated reason was so that we don't end up with a child, when this marriage is only meant to be a sham, until Igor's threat is neutralized. But for me, it was a test. To see if Gabriel would still respect my boundaries the way he always has, even after we were married.

It's a test he's passed with flying colors. And right now, I'm struggling to remember why I can't just leave it there, and enjoy the gorgeous man that I'm now married to.

He dips his head, kissing me softly. There's no demand in it. It's not forceful—it's gentle, a good-morning kiss that wouldn't be out of place in front of an audience…except for the part where he's naked and hard against me.

His hips shift, slightly. His mouth lingers on mine. I feel my body tighten, feel the warm dampness of my own arousal between my thighs, and I'm so close to giving in. I want to feel what I did last night. One more time. We haven't gotten out of bed yet, so it's still technically our wedding night. The new day hasn't started ? —

I'm still trying to rationalize it away when Gabriel pulls back, sliding away from me as he tucks the covers down between us.

"I'm sorry," he says, and I realize as I break out of my daze that I never even responded to his good morning. He probably thought I was frozen under him, worried that he'd push more on me than I wanted, because I'm his wife now. I can see from the worried look on his face that he thinks he's upset me.

"No," I manage. "It's okay." I push myself up to a sitting position, my cheeks heating slightly from the awkwardness, as I hold the covers up to my breasts and try to ignore the aching throb between my thighs. "Did you—" I clear my throat. "Did you sleep alright?"

Gabriel nods. "Like a rock. What about you?" He looks at me questioningly. "If you had nightmares, they didn't wake me."

I didn't. I don't think I even dreamed; I was sleeping so hard. "No—I was fine," I manage, my blush deepening a little at the thought of why that is. At the reminder that Gabriel made me come so many times, fucked me so thoroughly that not even my nightmares could break through the deep sleep I ended up in.

"Good." Gabriel presses his lips together briefly. "And you're still fine with sharing a bedroom? I think—" He hesitates briefly. "It will keep from confusing the kids, if they happened to realize you're sleeping in a separate room," he says finally. "And I feel better having you close. For your safety."

For some reason, hearing those last three words tacked onto the statement makes my heart drop. For your safety. Practicality, like everything else in our marriage. But then again—that's all this was meant to be. An arrangement, to keep me safe. A necessity, so that Gabriel can leverage the defenses he needs against Igor.

I need to remember that, when I feel myself wanting more.

When I find myself, like I am right now, wanting him to spill me back into bed and stay here with me for the rest of the day, losing himself in me the way he did last night.

"I should take a shower." A part of me hopes that Gabriel will suggest he join me, but instead, he just nods.

"I'll wait for you to finish."

It's the gentlemanly thing to do. The respectful thing. What I would expect from him. He's always been that kind of man to me—gentle and respectful and careful not to cross my boundaries. That afternoon in the library is the closest he's ever come to completely losing control with me.

A small, daring part of me wants him to do it again.

The rest of me slides out of bed, trying not to think about how I can feel his eyes on me as I walk to the bathroom. My wedding dress is still in a puddle on the floor, and I feel my cheeks flush as I remember what I did in that spot last night. The feeling of Gabriel in my mouth, hard and thick and straining the edges of my lips. The sounds he made, because of me . The way I made him moan.

It was the first time I ever did that. I can't have been that good at it, but he behaved as if it were incredible. As if I'd made him feel every bit as good as he made me.

The thought lingers as I turn on the hot water for the shower, no matter how hard I try to push it away. I almost don't want to wash away the feeling of him on my skin, his hands sliding over me, his tongue?—

A shiver runs over me, and I tilt my head back, letting the hot water run through my hair. I need to focus. The wedding is behind us—I'm Gabriel's wife now, and that means that anyone willing to offer him help against Igor will have a better reason to assist him in defending me. That was the important part. Our wedding night is behind us, too—the marriage is consummated, and there's no argument that the marriage isn't real in all the ways that matter to others.

As far as how it matters to me—that's not the important part. It never has been. The only difference is that in the end, if I want to leave when the purpose of our marriage is finished, Gabriel will let me.

My chest tightens at the thought of leaving. But I tell myself not to think about that now. There's too much between now and when all of this is resolved, too many dangers still to face to think too hard about what my future holds when Igor is no longer a threat.

For now, I should focus on today. A day that Gabriel told me would be all mine, to spend with Clara before she flies home tomorrow. And I plan on enjoying every second of it.

When I come out of the shower, wrapped up in a robe, Gabriel has pulled on a pair of sleep pants, in obvious deference to my desire that our marriage be chaste after this. If he thought that wearing a pair of loose, soft black pants and nothing else would make me less attracted to him, he was wrong.

It's impossible to not want him, no matter what he's wearing. The pants hang loosely on his hips, the deep v-cut of muscle on either side, deliciously visible, the dark line of hair that runs from his navel disappearing into the waistband. I know what's underneath, and that makes him look that much more tempting.

And that's not even taking into consideration his muscled chest, dusted with dark hair, his broad shoulders, his?—

I look away sharply when I see a small smile flicker at the corner of Gabriel's mouth, one that he's obviously trying to suppress. He knows I'm checking him out, and I feel my cheeks heat.

"I'm going down for breakfast," I mumble, clutching my robe to my chest as I scramble out of the room, not looking back at Gabriel as I go.

I assume, if he wants us to share a bedroom, that all of my things are going to be moved into his room. But for now, all of my clothes are still in mine. I duck into the room, thankfully not running into anyone else, and dress quickly in a pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt, tossing my hair up in a damp, messy bun atop my head. I can hear the shower turning on again down the hall in Gabriel's bathroom, and with some effort, I force the image of him naked with water and soap dripping down him in thick rivulets out of my head.

How am I going to manage to share a bed with him like this?

That, too, I file away under the category of things to worry about later. I hurry downstairs, and when I walk into the dining room, I find Clara sitting at the table, scrolling through her phone, a buffet of breakfast food spread across it. Agnes and the children are nowhere to be seen.

"Good morning," Clara says with a grin, looking up from her phone as she hears my footsteps. "Agnes said to tell you she was going to keep Cecelia and Danny out from underfoot, so you wouldn't feel obligated to work today. We've got the whole day, just the two of us." She grins, and I feel a flutter of excitement cut through all of my tumultuous emotions.

"Also," she continues, looking at the table. "This breakfast spread is amazing. Honestly, I would eat like a horse if I lived here. Agnes is incredible." She gestures to her plate, which has a waffle with butter and syrup and berries, scrambled eggs with goat cheese and salmon, and a few thick sausage links next to it. "I want to eat here forever."

"She's amazing," I agree. The food all smells amazing, but I scoop a spoonful of scrambled eggs onto my plate and add a couple pieces of sausage and fruit. I'm not sure how much I can manage. My appetite is questionable on the best days, and right now, my stomach feels like it's see-sawing back and forth after the night I had.

"Speaking of amazing—" Clara draws out the last word, pouring herself a glass of orange juice. "The food isn't the only thing I'd stay here for. That guy I was dancing with last night—oh my god." She fans herself with one hand. "I got maybe an hour of sleep last night. He said things to me in Italian that I can't wait to try to remember and translate later. And his tongue —" Her eyes sparkle mischievously. "All of him, honestly."

I can't help but laugh at that. "Did you get his name? A number? An email so the two of you can keep in touch?"

"Fuck, no." Clara laughs. "I'm going to go knock on his door tonight, as agreed, and he's going to keep me up until it's time for my flight to leave in the morning. And then I'm going to say ciao ." She wiggles her fingers playfully. "This is everything I could possibly want out of a no-strings hookup. I'm on cloud nine."

"Better than what Tinder offers in New York?" I tease, and Clara shudders.

"I haven't had a decent date in months. This is exactly what I needed. Tell Gabriel thank you?—"

"Tell me thank you for what?" Gabriel breezes into the room, his curling dark hair clinging damply around his face, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that clings to his muscles in a way that makes my mouth go dry. He grabs a piece of toast from a plate, slathers strawberry jam onto it, and crams a sausage link into the center of it like a breakfast hot dog, as I stare at him in utter confusion. I've never seen him do anything like that to Agnes' breakfast foods, and I have a sneaking suspicion that it's because she's not here to catch him doing it.

"What?" He looks at me innocently. "I don't want to interrupt you ladies' morning chat. So I'm taking this to go." His gaze lingers on my face, for just a moment, and as his eyes drop to my mouth, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt what he's thinking.

I let myself imagine it, for just a second. Him giving me a quick kiss goodbye, before he goes out to whatever business he has on the estate for the day. A casual, easy, loving relationship between us. One where there are no complications and no rules, no boundaries—just us.

It's a fantasy that I can't let myself linger in for too long.

"Thank you for flying me out here for the wedding," Clara says sincerely. "I'm so happy I was able to be here for Bella. And thank you for having such deliciously gorgeous men working on your estate," she adds, a devilish grin appearing on her face. "I'm going to be taking full advantage of the amenities before I leave tomorrow."

Gabriel laughs at that, a full, real laugh that reminds me just how tense and stressful things have been lately. It feels like a long time since I've heard him laugh like that.

"I'm glad you're enjoying your visit," he says with a smirk. "Have fun, Bella. I'll see you tonight."

It's a statement that should be full of promise, but it isn't, because of the agreement we've made. And I can't deny the way my stomach swoops with disappointment at the thought.

"Tonight, hm?" Clara wiggles her eyebrows at me, and I shake my head.

"We're not doing any more of that," I tell her firmly, and her eyes widen in shock.

"You can't possibly be serious. You married him, and you're not going to fuck him? Bella?—"

"It complicates things," I say, cutting her off, and she shakes her head.

"What things? I don't understand, Bella. You're married ," she repeats. "What on earth can it possibly complicate?"

"It's an arrangement. For my protection. I explained all of that." I let out a sharp breath, stabbing one of the sausage links with my fork. "And when I don't need that protection any longer?—"

Understanding dawns on Clara's face. "Bella. You can't be serious. Is that what he said he wants?"

I bite my lip, shaking my head. "No. But he told me he'll let me leave if I don't want to be married after all of this is done. He knows how I feel about arranged marriages, how hard I was trying to stay out of one, and?—"

"Bella. This isn't the same thing." Clara sets her fork down. "You love those kids. You love being a part of this family. You're honestly going to walk away from all of it once it's safe to do so? Why on earth?—"

"He doesn't love me." My appetite has completely fled. "I'm married to a man that I have feelings for, despite how hard I tried not to, and he doesn't love me. He told me from the start?—"

" Bella." Clara interrupts me again, a fond exasperation in her voice. "Just because he said that at the beginning doesn't mean that's how it's always going to be. Things change. Your feelings for him have changed, haven't they?"

"Well, yes, but?—"

"So why couldn't his?"

"He hasn't said anything about them changing. Just that the marriage was necessary, and he'll let me go if I want. Nothing about love, or—" I swallow hard, my eyes burning as I try to fight back the threatening emotions. "Nothing about this lasting."

Clara shakes her head. "Not everything has to be said out loud." She tilts her head, looking at me. "I can tell you have feelings for him. And the way he looks at you—he might not have said anything outright, but I can tell that he feels something more for you, too. You could see where it goes. It could make you both happy. Especially after all of this is over?—"

"Igor burned down his house." Just saying it aloud makes me feel faintly nauseated.

"I know," Clara says quietly. "You told me when you first mentioned the proposal. That doesn't change anything about how I see him looking at you now?—"

"That was the house he and his wife bought together. The house he brought his kids home to. All of the memories he had left of her. Photos, things he saved from when Cecelia and Danny were babies—" My eyes well up with tears, thinking of how hard that must be for Gabriel. What a devastating blow that must have been when he found out. He was calm when he told me—undoubtedly because he didn't want to scare me any more than I already was, but I can only imagine how much it must have hurt. "And it's my fault."

"Bella." Clara gets up from her seat at the table, coming around to sit next to me. "No, it's not."

"If I hadn't gone to work for him?—"

"That was his choice. He asked you to take the job. And he asked you to stay, even after he knew what had happened to you," Clara reminds me. "You can't take responsibility for everything, Bella. Especially things that aren't actually your fault. Gabriel is an adult. He has a hand in all of these decisions, too. He's picked this every step of the way. And do you really think it's because he has some kind of sense of responsibility towards you? Maybe these mafia men are different, but I don't personally know any men who would do all of this unless they had some pretty strong feelings for the woman involved."

I wipe away the few tears that have escaped, sniffing them back. "I made the choice to put him in danger, too, though. How could I have thought it was a good idea to go and work for a man with children ? I put Cecelia and Danny in danger, all because I wanted an out—I wanted to get away from my father."

"Did you really think Igor was going to come after you?" Clara shakes her head. "God, I can't even believe this is a real thing we're talking about. This entire underworld thing is insane. Like we're in some kind of movie."

I shake my head. "No, I didn't think he would. I didn't think I mattered that much. I honestly thought he would go after my father, or the don, or any of the other men involved in it. And everyone knows my father doesn't value me beyond who I could be married off to." I laugh softly. "I haven't heard from him since all of this started. He'd be furious if he knew I married Gabriel."

Clara's eyebrows rise. "What, a whole estate and villa in Italy isn't good enough for him?"

I shake my head. "Gabriel works with the mafia, but he's not part of any of the well-known families. Money aside, I married ‘down.'" I laugh, knowing exactly how it sounds to anyone who isn't familiar with the way the mafia world works. "My father wanted his social status elevated by my marriage, not just his bank account. Marrying Gabriel did the opposite of that."

"Well, it's good that you don't have to worry about him any longer then." Clara puts a comforting arm around my waist. "Gabriel has taken care of you. And if he didn't feel like it was worth it, he wouldn't have done it."

"I still feel like I should have said no." I rub my hands over my face. "I just keep linking this all back to me, to all the decisions I made that put Gabriel and his family in danger?—"

"You have to stop," Clara says softly. "Gabriel doesn't blame you. No one blames you, except for you. Maybe try to figure out if there really is something here, outside of all of that, instead of always looking at whose fault this is, when you can't even undo it. From what you've said, Gabriel has never given you even the slightest inkling that he thinks any of this is your fault."

I shake my head. "No. He's said the opposite a lot, actually. Vehemently." I manage a small smile, looking sideways at Clara.

"There you go." She holds up her hands. "So focus on what's happening now. And what could happen in the future. Not a past you can't change."

"It doesn't change the fact that he said love was off the table from the start," I remind her. "This has definitely never been about a serious relationship."

"Men say things they don't mean all the time." Clara grins. "Usually, it's the opposite. Usually they're smothering a girl with all kinds of sweet things to get her into bed, only to never actually mean most of it. But I think Gabriel might be different."

"How so?" I look at her curiously. There's a tiny flicker of hope in my chest, one that I'm terrified to nurture. I've gotten this far by being firm with myself, by reminding myself that believing in a future for us is only setting myself up for heartbreak. A heartbreak that I absolutely don't need.

But now?—

My heart is going to be broken no matter what. Either Gabriel and I see this sham through until it's safe, and I leave at the end of it all, because we're never going to be able to just go back to what we were before. Not after this.

Or I give Gabriel a chance, and risk getting hurt.

I'm going to lose him and this family no matter what. Unless Clara truly sees something that I'm too afraid to allow myself to see, there's no happy ending here.

But if she does, then I could be missing what's right in front of me.

"I think Gabriel was being careful with you," Clara says gently. "He had to be careful with you physically, right? I think he was being careful with your heart, too. He's a good man. And he didn't know if he had it in him to fall in love again. Maybe he really thought he couldn't. And he didn't want to give you any reason to think he was promising more than he was. But I think it's changed for him. And maybe he doesn't know if it's changed for you, too." She reaches over, squeezing my hand. "I think maybe you're both going to second-guess yourselves out of something good."

I laugh softly at that, wiping my cheek on my sleeve. "That does sound like something we would do."

"I don't know Gabriel very well," Clara says. "But it sounds like you've both been through a lot. I think things could change for him, just like they've changed for you."

I feel that tiny flicker of hope again. I'm so afraid to let it sink in, but for the first time, I don't quickly extinguish it, either.

Maybe Clara, who is outside of all of this, has a point. Maybe she sees something that I haven't.

Maybe there is a chance, after all.