20. Gabriel

20

GAbrIEL

A s soon as Bella mentions the possibility of someone following them, I'm on high alert. "Did the security say anything?" I ask, glancing at the other car parked nearby. I know they've been following Bella and the children all day, on my instructions. "Or did you maybe mistake one of them for someone else?"

Bella bites her lip. "Maybe," she admits. "I could have. I was focused on loading up the car. I just heard footsteps behind me and turned around—and then there wasn't anyone." Her cheeks turn pink. "Maybe it was just someone passing by, and I was being jumpy."

I can hear the hopeful note in her voice. I know that's what she wants it to be—just a mistake. Because if it's not, then the other option is that Igor has followed us here, just like we've feared he would.

And that he's stalking my wife.

That possessive feeling rolls over me, making me want to crush Bella closer to me. Instead, I force myself to take a step back, looking around. "Let's get back to the house," I tell her, as calmly as I can manage. "And then we'll go from there. I'll call Gio and see what he's heard. I want you and the kids back in the house as soon as possible, though. I'll feel better then."

Bella nods her agreement, and we both get into the car.

The ride back is tense. Cecelia and Danny chatter on about their day, gleefully oblivious to mine and Bella's worry—which I'm glad of. I listen to them talk about the adventure in town with one ear, nodding along, and all the while run over the possibilities in my head, and what I need to do to keep them safe.

Once we're back home, I send Bella in with the kids. "I'll get my guys to bring in the groceries," I tell her firmly. "I'll check in with you after I talk to Gio."'

She nods, heading inside with them both. I reach for my phone, glancing up the long, winding drive as I find Gio's contact.

He answers on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Gio." I lean back against the Land Rover, still watching the drive. It's a ridiculous feeling—if Igor attacks us, it won't be a frontal assault right up my driveway—but I can't help the feeling that I need to watch it like a hawk. "Bella thought she heard someone following her and the children in town today. Is there anything you've seen to suggest Igor might have sent men here?"

Or that he might be here. I can't even voice that possibility aloud.

"I've been doing some digging since we last spoke." Gio's voice is careful and slow, methodical, as always. It's why I've always kept him as my security, even back when I didn't really feel that I needed it. "The families are aware of your marriage to Bella, as you wanted. From what I've heard, Igor is angry. The marriage has only made him more determined to get her back, quite literally, over your dead body." He pauses. "I know that's not the answer you were hoping for."

"It is what I expected, though. And the other families?"

"Bella's father is furious. The don is also displeased—this means that they can no longer completely ignore your requests for help in protecting her. Before this, the opinion of the don was that she should have been returned to her father, when the danger was apparent, and protected there. That you had no right to protect her yourself. But now?—"

"Now she's my wife." I bite off the words, that possessive anger filling me once again.

Gio sighs. "I was about to call you this evening, before you reached out. I can ask the don to send men to Italy, to help protect the estate. He doesn't like it, but I have it on good authority that he will do so, regardless. Bella is a distant relative, but she is his family, and he no longer has the right to say that she should have been returned to her father for safekeeping."

"Good. Tell him I want that. As many as he can spare. There's no other word of Igor?"

"He's laying very low. The men that I posted haven't seen any movement at his private hangar. But that doesn't mean that he hasn't found other ways to put men on the job of tracking your family." Gio lets out a sharp breath. "Be careful. He's no one to take lightly."

I can hear the quiet censure in his voice—I did that before, and very nearly paid dearly for it. "We'll be cautious," I assure him. "No more trips into town for Bella and the children, until this is dealt with." I know Bella won't be thrilled with that, but she'll understand. She wants the family kept safe every bit as much as I do. "Keep me posted on when the don will be sending us back up."

"Will do."

As soon as I hang up the phone, I head inside to find Bella. It takes me a little bit, but I finally track her down to my—our—bedroom, and find her sitting on the bed, staring down at the floor with her hands wedged between her knees.

"Bella," I say her name softly as I step into the room, not wanting to frighten her, but she jumps anyway. She bites her lip as she looks up, her expression apologetic, but thankfully, she doesn't actually say that she's sorry.

I want more than anything for her to stop blaming herself for things that aren't her fault. I don't know what it will take to accomplish that. Igor being gone for good, certainly. Then, maybe, she can start down the path of no longer thinking that all of these things that have happened can be traced back to her.

"Gio said that the don will send more security for the estate. But until Igor is dealt with, I don't want you and the children leaving the property."

Bella nods. "I figured as much." She chews on her lower lip, letting out a sigh. "It's fine. After today, I just kind of want to stay here for a while, anyway."

"Understandable." I cross the room and sit down next to her on the bed. I want her to lean into me, to accept comfort from me, but she stays stiff and still next to me, her gaze fixed on the wall. "I'll keep you safe, Bella. I'm going to do everything in my power to stop him from coming after you. And now I have the don backing me. We?—"

"Are going to end up starting a war." She looks down at her hands. "All because of me. More people are going to get hurt?—"

"And what else do you think should have happened? You staying with him?" I shake my head. "That wouldn't be an acceptable outcome for anyone, Bella. You shouldn't be expected to stay in the hands of a monster just because it will take violence to ensure that you're kept free from him. It's not just you, either." I let out a sharp breath. "He's hurt others. He's responsible for all those deaths at the church that day. He's responsible for many, many more on top of that. You might be the catalyst for this, but it needed to happen regardless. And none of it should fall on your shoulders."

I reach out, resting my hand on her thigh. I feel her tense, hear her indrawn breath, but she finally looks at me.

"When you say it like that, it sounds pretty self-involved that I feel so guilty."

"No." I shake my head. "I know a lot of people in your life have been unkind to you, Bella. You always seem to want to ascribe the worst motivations to yourself. When in reality, you're none of those things. You're not to blame. You're not selfish. You're not narcissistic or any of the other negative things that you seem to think you are, because your father and those around you for most of your life have treated you that way. You're a good, kind person. That's why?—"

I break off, just as her eyes widen. I know what was about to fall off of my lips. What I was close to saying. I don't know why I don't simply come out with it, other than?—

Other than the fact that I don't know what she would say in return. And the thought of telling her how I feel, only for her to look away and remind me of all the things we agreed on, feels like more than I can take right now after so much upheaval and loss.

My hand tightens gently on her thigh. "Igor will be dealt with, Bella. More protection is coming for you and the family. We'll deal with this."

"And then what?" She looks at me, and I can't read what's in her eyes. It looks like hope, but hope for what? Her freedom? The life she planned to live on her own before she was forced into a marriage for her own safety, the one thing above all else that she was trying to avoid? Or hope for something else, something that I'm afraid to allow myself to hope for in return?

"Then we—" I take a breath. "We figure that out when the time comes."

The look on her face suggests that wasn't the answer she was hoping for. But I'm unsure what it was that she wanted me to say.

I'm painfully aware of the fact that we're alone in the bedroom. That we're sitting on the bed, the soft warmth of her leg under my hand, her mouth so close that I could lean forward and kiss her so easily. She swallows hard, her throat moving as if she's thinking the same thing, and I feel a rush of hot, irresistible desire at the memory of her on her knees in front of me, just a few days ago.

I can't remember when I last wanted anything as badly as I want her.

"Bella." Her name slips from my lips before I can stop it, and I feel the way she tenses under my hand, but she doesn't move. My other hand seems to move of its own accord, lifting to slip my finger under her chin, and I bring her mouth closer to mine, her scent filling my senses.

My entire body is aching with need. I want to pull her into my lap, tumble her back onto the bed, and sink myself into her until all I feel is her heat wrapped around me. I can feel my pulse throbbing in my veins, can feel how fucking hard I am. But I brush my mouth against hers slowly, gently, wanting her to give in to it, too. To need it as badly as I do.

For a brief moment, I feel her softening. I feel her leaning in, her mouth pressing against mine, as if she wants that same forgetfulness, that same comfort, every bit as badly as I do.

And then she pulls back, her eyes hooded, her posture stiff.

"Gabriel—"

"I know." I push myself up from the bed, needing to put distance between us. "We agreed."

"I'm sorry. But if we—" She breaks off, her lip caught between her teeth, and I know what she's not saying. I know, because it's true.

If we start again, we won't stop. If we start again, it will be so much harder at the end of all of this, if she leaves.

But God help me, that's what I want. I want it to feel impossible for her to go.

—-

The next morning, I wake up early, leaving Bella to sleep while I go for a run. Without a gym here, my workout routine has shifted to running and calisthenics, both of which I don't enjoy nearly as much as boxing and weightlifting. But more than ever, it feels important to stay fit.

She's no longer in bed when I come back, sweaty and ready for a shower. The bed is neatly made, no trace of her left, but I think I can still smell her warm, soapy scent when I walk into the room. My cock throbs, half-hard, just like it's been for all of the morning since I woke up next to her.

I've become far more acquainted with my hand than I ever thought I would be as a married man. I stare at the bed for a long moment, envisioning her still there, sleepy and soft and warm. The image of rolling her onto her back, tugging the little shorts she slept in to one side, and sinking into her fills my mind. I'm instantly rock-hard, aching, and I reach down, squeezing my cock regretfully as I walk to the shower.

It's going to be a long one.

By the time I get out, I'm not exactly satisfied, but I can at least think a little more clearly. Which is good, because beyond waiting for Gio to call with news about Igor's movements or the delivery of additional security, I have other business today to handle in regards to the estate.

The thought of it makes my heart feel heavy as I drive out to the stables. A buyer is coming today to potentially finalize the sale of a handful of the racehorses, and it's the first step in selling off the estate, as I've planned. But as it becomes more real, it doesn't become any easier. It's anything but easy.

The buyer is an older man, wealthy, sun-browned skin and a shock of white hair, dressed elegantly. He has his trainer with him, a tall, dark-haired man who confers with his boss in Italian, and makes me wish that I hadn't let so much of mine slip. I only catch every fourth word or so, and in my current mood, it only serves to make me more frustrated.

The horses are taken out, put through their paces, one of our staff riders galloping them along the track so that the buyer and his trainer can watch them run. The trainer examines them afterward, running his hands over their legs, and I can see the approval on his face. In the end, the sale is confirmed, and they pay my asking price.

It should feel like an accomplishment. But all I feel, as I agree on a date for them to come and collect the horses, is that same heavy weight in my chest. A feeling that I shouldn't be selling off my family's legacy, that I'm losing something by doing so instead of gaining.

But I've already made the decision. When all of this is over, I'm taking my family back to New York, to a new home, a fresh start in a place that's familiar to my children. I can't focus on this place the way it deserves, and?—

My chest tightens as I watch the buyer drive away, thinking of what Bella's reaction is going to be when she finds out that I'm selling. I still haven't told her. There's been too much else that's been chaotic and emotional, and I haven't wanted to add to it. Especially not when she's put so much work into the villa.

It's been impossible to ignore how much she loves it. How happy the work has made her. Even if she thinks I haven't noticed, I've seen her falling in love with the house right in front of my eyes.

You could stay. The whole family could stay. The thought springs into my head as I stand there, breathing in the clean countryside air, the warm sun beating down on my shoulders. If Bella feels about me the way I feel about her, if we were able to be a real family—the four of us?—

I can't even begin to unravel what that would look like. What it would mean for Cecelia and Danny, in terms of the effect on their lives that it would have beyond just this one summer. If it would be good or bad, better or worse, if I would be isolating them or giving them a chance for a unique experience, one that would shape them in a positive way.

One thing I do feel certain of is that Bella doesn't have a deep desire to return to New York. I think she could be happy here. And I know deep down, even though I've been trying not to think about it, that she will be crushed when she finds out that I'm selling. That the renovations have been for that purpose.

I need to tell her. I've been keeping too many secrets from her in service of trying to protect her, and I can't do that forever. She won't love me more for it.

After dinner, I ask her to take a walk with me. She looks at me curiously, but agrees, and once dinner is cleaned up, she meets me out on the deck.

She looks beautiful, even in just a pair of jeans and a tank top. Gradually, I've seen her become more and more comfortable with wearing clothing that suits the weather while she's been here. It's yet another reason that the thought of telling her about the sale of the estate tugs at my heart.

But putting it off won't change what's happening. And she'll only be more upset with me the longer I wait to tell her the truth.

"You look sad." Bella glances over at me as we start down the path that winds around the stables and down towards the lake. I know some of my security is trailing us at a distance, but they've left enough space that there's at least the illusion of us being alone. It makes me as uncomfortable as I know it does Bella—I've spent my life only ever having Gio watching my back, at most. Having so much security, and more on the way, makes me feel hemmed in. "And you were quiet at dinner," she adds. "Is something wrong? Besides—" She waves a hand in a general ‘everything around us' gesture, and I chuckle drily.

"I wanted to show you more of the estate. Just the two of us. Tell you a little more about it."

"It's beautiful in the evening." Bella draws in a deep breath, running her hands through her hair as she tugs it up into a ponytail, wrapping a hair tie around it. The sight of her hair brushing along the back of her neck makes me want to move closer to her, run my lips along that smooth line of skin, wrap my hand around her nape, and draw her in for a kiss. That desire throbs through me, momentarily distracting me, and I feel Bella looking in my direction.

"It is," I agree, my voice a little more hoarse than usual. I clear my throat. "I haven't been back here in a long time. This place has been running without me for a while now. And so much of it still feels like what I remember from when I was here as a kid."

"There's got to be a lot of history here." There's a wistful sound in Bella's voice. "I can see it in the house, as I've been working on it. We've been trying to preserve as much of it as we can. It feels like there's so many memories there." She laughs softly. "I grew up in a house that was so cold. All my father wanted out of a house was a place to display as much wealth as possible, not a home. There was no feeling in it. Nothing personable or warm. Everything here feels like the opposite of that. I think it's why I love it so much."

Her admission makes me feel that tug in the center of my chest again. "There is a lot of history," I agree. "My great-grandfather built this place. Even after my father chose to leave and move the family to New York, we came back here every year. I spent summers here as a kid. I learned to ride here when I was younger. Learned about business with my father from helping him with the estate when I was a teenager. I didn't appreciate it as much then, but now—" I shrug. "I can see the value of those lessons."

"Cecelia and Danny have loved being here this summer, too." Bella glances over at me as we walk, rounding around one of the pastures. "I think they like it as much as I do."

Once again, there's a note of something I can't entirely be sure of in her voice. Wistfulness, maybe.

"I'm glad they got to spend a summer here, the way I used to when I was a kid. We didn't come back here often when they were little. My parents were getting older and didn't travel as much. My father did eventually come back towards the very end. And then—" I shrug, although the memory tugs at my emotions. "The last time I was here was for the funeral."

"I'm sorry," Bella says softly.

"It's part of life." I run a hand through my hair, looking out towards where I can see the lake shimmering in the distance. "But I should have put more effort into coming back, before."

"Have you thought about it now? Or—staying for longer?" she ventures, and my chest tightens. There's no avoiding telling her the truth about my intentions now, even though I know it will crush the feeling that we have right now. Right now, the conversation feels warm, intimate, the two of us sharing things about my past that we haven't talked about before. I don't want to bring it crashing back down. But there's no avoiding it.

"I haven't talked about this because of—well…because of everything else that we both have to deal with." I draw in a breath, stopping near one of the low stone walls that surrounds a livestock field. "I told you that before what happened with Igor, I had a business trip here planned. That business trip was to come back here and evaluate the estate, so I could make the decision to sell it."

There's a heavy silence for several long moments. I can't bring myself to look at Bella; I don't want to see the expression on her face. I know it can't be good.

"Oh," she finally says, softly, and I can hear the disappointment in her voice.

Maybe even she didn't realize that she was hoping for some other outcome until right now. I definitely didn't. But I can hear it, even if neither of us knew about it before.

She wanted to stay. Some part of her was hoping that we wouldn't go back. And I've crushed that hope.

"You've—thought about it?" Her voice is very quiet, and when I finally glance over at her, I see that she's looking away.

"Yes. At length. It wasn't an easy decision. But I can't put the focus and effort into it that it deserves. That was the conclusion I came to. And I think—I think it's for the best. I finished a deal for some of the horses earlier today. That's the start of it—I still need to find a buyer for the rest of the estate and the house. I have some inquiries, but I want to make sure I sell it to someone who appreciates the history."

"Have you told Cecelia and Danny?"

I shake my head. "No. I don't think they would fully understand, to be honest. And they're enjoying it so much right now, I don't want to bring that down. I'll tell them eventually, when the topic of coming back inevitably comes up. But they're children, and they don't have a deep attachment to it. They'll understand, when the conversation happens."

Bella nods. She bites her lip, looking up at the sky, and then back toward the villa. "We should start walking back," she says quietly, and I can hear the quiver in her voice. This upset her—maybe more than I realized it would. And I hate that, because I never want to do anything that makes her unhappy.

She's quiet, the whole walk back. Once we reach the villa, she heads upstairs, leaving me on the deck to stand and look out over the estate, knowing that she wants to be alone for a little while. That she needs some space, before I join her.

I also know that even once I go upstairs, it's still going to feel as if there's a million miles between us.

And there's nothing I can do to change it.