19. Bella

19

BELLA

W atching Clara leave the next day is incredibly difficult. I have no idea when I'm going to see her again—I have no idea when I'll be able to go home. We spent all of yesterday wandering the estate, taking a picnic lunch down to the lake, spying on Clara's Italian crush while he worked with some of the racehorses. I can tell from the sleepy look on her face as she brings her bags out to the waiting car and hugs me that he didn't let her get much sleep last night. I can also tell that she didn't mind a bit.

"Remember what I said," Clara murmurs in my ear as she hugs me, squeezing me tightly before letting go.

"I will," I promise her. And I mean it. But after last night, I'm back to wondering if there really is any reason to hope that things might be different between Gabriel and me.

We all had dinner together and drinks out on the deck before Clara wandered off in search of her summer fling. Gabriel and I stayed up after Cecelia and Danny went to bed, drinking another glass of wine in relative silence in the soft summer night air. In any other relationship, it would have been blissfully romantic. But for us?—

For us, all I could think about was what's hanging over our heads. The reason for our marriage. The fact that if not for that threat, none of this would have happened at all. How can I ever think that there's anything else to it? An arrangement is just that—an arrangement. And Clara was right—she doesn't know Gabriel. Not like I do.

He always means what he says. He's never been anything less than straightforward with me. And what he said was that there's no more room in his heart for love.

I could feel the tension between us when we went up to bed. I knew we were both thinking about what happened in that room the night before, about me on my knees in my wedding dress, about the puddle of lace on the floor as Gabriel undressed me, his hands and mouth all over me as he took me to bed. It felt like a palpable thing between us as we tried to fall asleep. I ended up taking a sleeping pill just to drown out that tension, as much as for any possible nightmares.

And this morning, I woke up with him curled against me, as if he's drawn to me even in our sleep. Even through his clothes, I could feel all that warm, firm muscle, how hard he was pressed against my back. How much he wants me.

But desire doesn't equal love.

My heart feels heavy in my chest as Clara gets into the car and waves. Three of Gabriel's security are taking her to the airport—Gabriel doesn't want to take any chances, even if Clara isn't a target of Igor's anger, so far as we know. But there's no telling what he might try to do next. What angle he might attack from—and he will, eventually. There's no question about that.

It's just a matter of when, not if.

I watch as the car leaves, until it vanishes from view. And then I take a deep breath, and head back into the villa.

Agnes and I are working on the library today, and I don't want to change up our plans, even if I'd rather be in almost any other room right now. But if I try to tell her that, she's going to want to know why, and I can just see the look on her face when I try to bluff my way through that. I was never meant to be a poker player.

So instead, I opt to clean the fireplace, since it's at least on the opposite side of the room from where Gabriel's had his hands all over me.

"You're quiet," Agnes comments as she starts in on another shelf of books, pulling stacks of them free to dust each of them, as well as dusting, washing, and waxing the shelves. "Gabriel isn't letting you get much sleep, hm?" She winks at me, mischief dancing in her eyes, and I sigh. I don't mind her teasing, but today, I feel too tired to play along.

"It's an arranged marriage, Agnes," I remind her. "Just because we're sharing the same bedroom doesn't mean we're—" I wave a hand, and she snorts.

"Hmph. The two of you are ridiculous." She waves the rag in her hand, as if to emphasize her point. "You're married. You both have feelings for each other. Enjoy it."

"It's—" I break off before I can tell her the truth, that Gabriel and I have already discussed the ending of this. That I know I'm going to leave eventually. That Gabriel and I have gone too far, crossed too many lines, for us to go back to the way things were before.

"You're good for him," Agnes says with finality, as if that's all that matters. "He closed himself off for a long time. You've opened him back up. Made him feel things again. Made him younger. I can see it on his face. All of the rest of it—" She waves a hand again. "You two will figure it out."

I let out a sharp breath, scrubbing the bricks of the fireplace a little more vigorously. Deep down, I know she's at least partially right. I know that being with me has brought out parts of Gabriel that he shoved down for a long time. That the man who speeds down a back road in his Ferrari and goes swimming at night is the kind of man he was before he experienced devastating loss. I know that it's not just me who has been partially healed by this relationship. I know I've helped him, too.

That doesn't mean this marriage is anything other than what we've both agreed it is.

I sit back on my heels after a little while, looking at the rich color of the bricks now that I've cleaned them. There are places where they're crumbling and worn, but it doesn't affect the integrity of the fireplace, and I actually think I like it. It gives the room a rustic, warm aesthetic that fits with the old bookcases and the vintage furniture. It feels cozy, like a soft, old cashmere sweater that's been held onto for years. Once the upholstery is finished being repaired and the floors are refinished—and new drapes hung to replace the moth-eaten ones—the library will be a perfect haven.

It's easy to imagine it in the winter, a fire roaring, snow on the grass of the estate outside, the inside of the library warm and welcoming. Christmas decorations on the mantel, maybe.

My chest ached, just thinking about it, because if we were still here by then, that would mean the threat from Igor hasn't gone away. It would mean we're all still in danger. And I can't imagine that he'll let it go on for that long.

It will come to a head, I think, one way or another, sooner than that. A ball of ice forms in the pit of my stomach at the thought. And the ache in my chest doesn't subside.

Whatever the conditions of my relationship with Gabriel, whatever we've agreed on, even if I feel sure that the best outcome of all of this is us parting ways when Igor is dealt with instead of falling prey to him again—I can't ignore the fact that with every day that passes…with every day that has passed since I first met him, I'm falling more and more in love with Gabriel. And not just that.

I'm falling more and more in love with this house. This place. The estate and its beauty, how far removed it feels from New York, and everything that city represents to me. If I had Clara here, it would be perfect. And I can't help but think that if we were safe, and still here, I could have Clara come and visit whenever I want. Gabriel owns a private jet. She could fly out for a weekend and be back at work on Monday.

I want Igor to be dealt with. I don't want any of us to live in fear for a moment longer than we have to. I want Cecelia and Danny to feel safe. I want us all to be safe.

But I don't want our time here to end.

I swallow hard, dropping the brush into the pail of water with a thud . "I'll take this downstairs," I tell Agnes, needing a moment to myself. And as I walk out of the room, down the freshly cleaned and waxed staircase that we worked on just before the wedding, I can't help but feel that this place has become more of my home than anywhere else I've been, in a very short time.

I want to stay. But I don't think that's how this ends.

—

The next day, Gabriel drives me and Cecelia and Danny—with ample security, of course—into town to do some shopping. All of the cooking for our wedding dinner depleted Agnes' groceries, and I have a list of things we need for the house.

"I have a lunch meeting," Gabriel tells me, as he parks the car. "So, you'll be on your own with them for lunch. Is that alright?"

"I think we can handle that." I smile at the kids, and they nod eagerly. "Let's do some shopping. We'll meet you back here around two?"

"Sure thing." Gabriel hesitates for the briefest second, and I can once again see the thought that flickers across his face—the moment where he almost gives me a casual kiss goodbye.

And then it passes, and he pulls back.

"Be good for Bella, okay?" He glances back at Cecelia and Danny. "Don't give her a hard time or beg for too many new things."

"We would never ," Cecelia assures Gabriel, and he laughs.

"I know how convincing you two can be."

We veer off in opposite directions. I want a coffee—Agnes' coffee is delicious, and I've already had one cup this morning, but there's just something about getting a latte and carrying it around while shopping. I miss doing that with Clara, especially back in the days before my first failed wedding, before trips out into public started to feel riddled with the possibility of panic attacks.

I brush away that memory. Here in Italy, I've felt free of those fears, even if the threat of Igor's retribution has given me new ones to replace them. But even that new fear can't take away the pleasure of being able to, for the first time in months, go out in public in short sleeves and a pair of shorts, my hair up, hardly noticing if there are eyes on me or men ogling. So far removed from the place where all of that happened to me, it's felt as if I left those panic attacks back in New York.

Hardly a surprise, then, that I want to stay. The thought sticks in my head as I order a strawberry and hazelnut iced coffee, getting a smaller, decaf one for Cecelia at her request, and chocolate milk in a cup for Danny. Drinks in hand, we start our shopping.

The groceries I'll leave for last, after lunch. We look for a new pair of shoes for Danny—one of his fell off while riding one of the ponies, and got trampled—and Cecelia finds a pair of sandals that she falls in love with, made of soft white leather with leaf cutouts. "Those are going to get dirty easily," I warn her, and she shrugs.

"I won't wear them outside. I'll save them for when we get home to New York."

A pang hits my chest at that. I know Gabriel hasn't told them about the house being burned down. It's been less than two weeks, and with the whirlwind of the wedding, he didn't want to give them one more thing to adjust to. I don't know how he's ever going to find a way to break it to them. I don't know of any way to tell them that won't result in them being not only brokenhearted about the loss of their childhood home itself, but terrified of what might come next.

I told Gabriel that I thought he should wait until Igor was dealt with. Until he could reassure the children that even though Igor had done this terrible thing, he would never be something they needed to fear again. And that brought up an entirely different, difficult topic—because that would mean Igor would be dead. Another delicate thing to figure out how to explain to his children.

And another thing to weigh on me, that this baggage of mine is what is costing them pieces of their innocence, their trust in the world around them. It's being taken away from them so much sooner than it should have been. All because I came into their lives.

I can hear Clara's voice, telling me that's not my fault, or my responsibility. That Gabriel made the choice to bring me into their lives and let me stay there. But the guilt still weighs on me.

"They'll be good for going out," I tell Cecelia neutrally, blinking back the dampness in my eyes. They're children, I tell myself, as I take our purchases up to the counter—Danny's, Cecelia's, and mine. Gabriel asked me to buy some riding boots for myself, and I did. They're easily adaptable. He'll find a new house in New York, and they'll fall in love with it. It will be hard at first, but they'll end up loving it just as much. They love the estate, after all. They've been tearing around the house and grounds for the weeks we've been here with wild abandon, thrilled to have the run of somewhere new. Their fear from what happened with Igor was quickly forgotten in the thrill of being in a new and exciting place for the summer.

I have to hold onto that. Otherwise, the guilt will be too much. Even if no one blames me but me.

I push it down as we head back out into the bright summer day. The air is clean and fresh, a million times better than New York, and everything feels light and airy. In the plaza, next to a splashing fountain, a man is playing violin, filling the air with soft, sweet music. For a moment, as I watch Cecelia spin in a circle, I wish Gabriel were here with us. I can picture him reaching for me the way he did on the dance floor at our wedding reception, swaying back and forth with me to the music. I can almost feel the warmth of his hand on the small of my back, the solid nearness of him, his gaze lingering on me. It almost feels real.

Just like everything else about us.

I bite my lip, heading down a side street with the kids running ahead. Cecelia stops at a flower vendor, looking pleadingly at me, and I buy one of the roses, helping her tuck it behind her ear after the stem has been clipped.

We stop at a furniture store, putting in an order for a few new pieces for the villa, and purchase some curtains and new bedding. Next door, there's a clothing boutique that Cecelia is begging to go into, and we head inside after we're done picking out items for the house.

I don't need anything new. But as Cecelia grabs an armful of pretty dresses and disappears into one of the fitting rooms, Danny perched outside with a comic book, I wander over to a rack of lingerie, keeping one eye on them.

There's no reason to buy anything like this. If Gabriel and I stick to what we agreed, our wedding night will be our last night. I ignore the way that thought makes my heart sink, reaching out to look through the lace and silk pieces instead.

It's all incredibly delicate and beautiful, things I've never worn before. There's a short nightgown made of pearl-colored silk, edged in eyelash lace that looks so fragile I'm afraid to touch it. A pair of red lace panties that tie in front with a bow, and a matching balconette bra that looks like it would push my breasts up to my chin. A dark purple velvet thong and matching corset. Piece after piece of beautiful lingerie, none of which I have any use for.

But I keep coming back to the pearl-colored nightgown, the silk iridescent in the soft lighting of the boutique. I can imagine Gabriel's face if he saw me in this. The way he'd look at me, his eyes darkening with desire. The way his hands would feel, running over me through the silk.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I reach for the nightgown, taking it off of the hanger. There's a pair of thin silk panties that match, so tiny that they barely count, edged with that same delicate lace. I take them up to the counter, quickly paying for them before Cecelia can come out and see. I don't really want to be the one to have a discussion with her about why I might be buying lingerie.

The saleslady hands me a small bag, the lingerie folded up inside in layers of tissue. I take it, still wondering why I bothered to buy it at all. I'll never wear it. Gabriel and I agreed—and I would never wear it for someone else. Not when I bought it thinking of him.

I realize, at that moment, that I can't imagine being with anyone else. There was a time, at the very beginning, when I thought I was doing all of this with Gabriel so that I could eventually go out and date. So I could have a real relationship, look for the one like any normal girl.

But somewhere along the way, Gabriel became the one . And now, I can't picture being with anyone else. Not because I'm afraid of it any longer, but because it feels impossible to imagine that I could ever want anyone other than him.

I tell myself that, eventually, that will change. That that's always how it feels, when someone falls in love for the first time and it doesn't work out. But I'm not entirely sure that I believe that.

Cecelia comes out a moment later, distracting me. She has three dresses that she wants, and I let her buy all of them, knowing Gabriel won't mind. He wants the children to be spoiled this summer, and I'm more than happy to help him do it.

We go to a sandwich shop for lunch, a little cafe spot where we can eat out in the sun. I get a prosciutto and mozzarella panini with pesto, Danny gets a grilled ham and cheese, and Cecelia gets a ham panini with peach jam and pesto on it. We sit out on the patio with our sandwiches, homemade chips, and sodas, and Cecelia looks at me as she unwraps her sandwich.

"Now that you and Dad are married, are we going to have another little brother and sister?"

The question is asked so matter-of-factly that I almost choke on the first bite of my panini. I cough, taking a breath, completely caught off-guard. "I don't think so," I tell her carefully, my mind racing as to how to navigate this topic. In all the chaos, this is one thing Gabriel and I didn't think of how to tackle.

"Why not?" Cecelia asks, and I can hear a note of disappointment in her voice. Danny echoes her, and I set my sandwich down, letting out a slow breath.

"Well—" I wince, choosing my words carefully. "We haven't talked about it. And he already has both of you. I don't know if he wants any more children. And I don't know how I feel about it, either. I'm very happy with the two of you." It's the truth, but I can see that it's not exactly the answer they wanted.

"Well—" Cecelia frowns. "Can you think about it? It would be cool to have a little sister."

"Or brother," Danny pipes up. "We could have a really big family."

"We would love that," Cecelia agrees. "So if you and Dad want to, we're all for it." She looks at me sagely, as if her father and I must have just been waiting for her approval, and now that we have it, there's no reason not to start making babies.

I smother a smile, nodding. Cecelia, I've learned, sometimes takes herself very seriously. And I don't want to make her feel bad by making her think that I'm not taking her seriously, as well.

"That's a conversation I'll have to have with your father," I tell her firmly. "Some other time. But for today, let's just enjoy each other's company, okay?"

Cecelia nods, going back to her sandwich. Danny has already lost interest in the topic. And as for me—I'm left thinking about something that I hadn't even really considered before.

I've never had a chance to think about whether I want children in the future. Before I left home to go work for Gabriel, it wasn't a matter of if I wanted them or not. My father was going to sell me to some mafia heir, and I would be required to have his children. I was destined to be a trophy and broodmare, until Gabriel's offer of a job plucked me out of that situation.

And after that—I haven't had time to think about if I would one day want children, now that the choice is mine. I'd been too focused on whether or not I would ever feel safe enough to do the things that led to children, let alone whether or not I wanted them. Getting over my aversion to being touched had felt like a first step in a long line of other steps that needed to be taken.

But now?—

My mind drifts back to the same place that it did when I found that nightgown. The same place it had yesterday, when I was cleaning the fireplace and pictured Christmas decorations in the library.

What would I want, if this were all real? If Gabriel and I were in love, if this marriage were forever, instead of an arrangement? Would I want more children with him?

I honestly don't know the answer to that question.

The thought makes me go quiet, until we finish our lunch. After that, there's nothing left to do other than go to get the long list of groceries that Agnes sent with us. As we leave to meet Gabriel back at the car, Danny pipes up.

"Can we get ice cream again?"

"Yes!" Cecelia jumps in. "Ice cream!"

I slip my phone out of my pocket, checking the time. We finished a little early, and Gabriel gave me a set of keys to the car. It wouldn't take long to drop the groceries off there and then go grab gelato for the kids before we leave.

"Alright," I agree, and both of them let out a cheer. We troop back to the car, loading up the bags, and I hear footsteps on the cobblestones, not very far away.

Or at least, I think I do. I'm so sure that it's Gabriel that I turn immediately, a smile on my face, ready to tell him that we're going to go get ice cream first. But the smile dies when I realize there's no one there.

A shiver runs down my spine, despite the warmth of the day, a tight knot of foreboding forming in my stomach. I'd been relaxed, happy—I'd forgotten, for a little while, to worry about what was always hanging over our heads.

But now it comes back sharply, and I turn to look at the kids.

"We should wait here for your dad."

"What?" Danny pouts immediately. "You said we could get ice cream."

"I know. But—" I look for an excuse, anything that isn't exactly a lie but won't frighten them. "The time got away from me," I finish lamely, which definitely isn't true—but I don't know what to say. I'm too unsettled to come up with anything better at the moment.

Both kids look entirely disappointed, and it only makes me feel worse. But I can't shake the feeling that someone was following us, watching us—that they got close , and I don't want to take even a few steps away from the car. I don't want to risk anything happening. Fear crawls down my spine, my skin prickling, and all I want is for Gabriel to get back from his meeting.

All I want is him .

"Bella?"

I yelp at the sound of his voice, and his arm slides around my waist, pulling me up against him. I blink, looking up into the sunlight, and see his handsome face looking down at me, his forehead wrinkled with worry.

"Bella, what's going on?"

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly feeling dry as paper. "I think we were followed," I whisper, not wanting Cecelia or Danny to hear. "I think someone is watching us."