24. Gabriel

24

GAbrIEL

L eaving to go to Rome is harder than I could possibly have imagined it would be.

It's made even harder by what Bella and I shared last night. I woke up at five in the morning, looking over at her sleeping next to me, and wondered if I should simply back out of the deal. If I should tell the buyer that I've changed my mind. If I should tell Bella the same thing—that I want to stay here, with her, to keep her as my wife, to live a life that I know would make her happy.

I lay there, and I turned over every possible response in my head. I always came back to the same thing.

Yesterday, she said she wanted a divorce. She said she wanted to leave. I can't keep her if she doesn't want to stay. I can't force her to stay in an arranged marriage, when I know very well that it's what she's been trying to run from this whole time. If she wants her freedom, then I have to keep my promises, and facilitate that.

Even if it breaks my heart.

Even if it feels like it's going to kill me to let her go.

I get up before she does, unable to stay in bed next to her any longer, and not touch her. Far from satisfying my desire for her, last night made me feel even more hungry for her. If I could, I'd keep her in bed all day. I'd find out just how many times I could make her come before she said no more , before she pleaded for me to stop instead of continuing.

I'd fill her up with my cum over and over again.

A small jolt of alarm follows that thought, even as I feel my cock start to harden. She said it was the wrong time of the month for it to matter that I forgot to pull out—but what if that isn't true?

What if I take Bella home, give her a divorce…and she's already pregnant with my child?

The thought fills me with panic—not over having a child with her, but over the possibility that I could lose them both. This baby isn't even a reality, and already I can feel a cold fear rippling through me, a possessive need to keep her and our potential child close.

I shake my head. She said flat out that the chances of that being a reality were almost impossible. There's no reason to think about something that isn't going to happen.

Much like our actual relationship.

Bella is quiet during breakfast, which doesn't surprise me. I see Agnes' eyes flicker to the small red mark at the edge of Bella's throat, where I got carried away last night, but she says nothing. Bella picks at her food, and my attention is constantly pulled back to Cecelia and Danny, who are hammering me nonstop with requests for things I could bring back for them from Rome.

"We're going home to New York when I get back," I tell them, when I can get a word in edgewise. "So make sure you help pack, and don't make Bella and Agnes do all the work. Okay?"

They both readily agree, and I glance over at Bella, who is staring down at her eggs with a blank expression on her face. Agnes looks worried, and she corners me as soon as breakfast is over, herding me into the kitchen as Bella takes the children outside.

"Is it safe to go back?" she asks me unceremoniously, her hands on her hips. "I saw the extra men left. But the threat is taken care of?"

"As much as it can be." I run my hand through my hair. "Salvatore brokered a truce with Igor. Bella is my wife, and so Igor has no right to her. The don has told him that any further action is considered an act of war. That he is expected to leave Bella alone, from here on out."

Agnes sniffs. "And you think he will abide by this?"

"No," I admit. "But I don't know what else to do. We can't stay here forever. I'm meeting the buyer for the estate in Rome, to arrange the sale tomorrow. We can't spend our whole lives hiding from him."

"No," Agnes agrees. "But what happens when Bella is no longer your wife?"

"What?" I narrow my eyes at her, and she waves a hand carelessly.

"The house is not so big that I don't know what's going on. You say Bella is protected because she's your wife, but you've promised that the two of you will go your separate ways when you get to New York. So what then?"

Shit . She has a point. But I can't— "I can't force Bella to stay married to me." I can hear the edge of frustration in my voice. "All of this started because she wanted to escape an arranged marriage. I can't make her stay in one."

"Hmph." Agnes shakes her head. "The two of you are smarter than this. But maybe I gave you too much credit."

"Agnes—"

She waves a hand at me. "Fine. Go to Rome. I'll get everyone here ready to go back to New York. And we will wait and see what the Russian asshole does. But I'm telling you, Gabriel, if you just let her go, you're a fool."

She turns away without saying anything else, clearly ending the conversation. I stare at her for a long moment before striding out of the kitchen and up to get my things, every muscle tense.

I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do. I can't make Bella stay. Agnes has a point, but if I tell her I've changed my mind about giving her a divorce, Bella will think I planned to do this all along. She'll think I lied to her, tricked her, just like every other man in her life always has.

Or, you could tell her the truth. That you don't want her to leave because ? —

I can't even admit it aloud in my own head, so I don't know how I could possibly say it to her.

Everyone comes outside to see me off. I hug Cecelia and Danny, telling them once more to be good, and then I straighten, looking at Bella. Her face is blank, giving nothing away, but all I can think is that I don't want to leave without kissing her one more time.

So I take a chance, and I step forward. I cup her face in one palm, and I press my lips softly to hers.

For a brief second, she stiffens. And then she softens, her mouth parting slightly against mine, and I want nothing more than for us to be alone. For her to be going to Rome with me. For?—

A chorus of "Ewww, gross!" from Cecelia and Danny brings the moment crashing down. I break the kiss, stepping back as my two children giggle next to Bella, and look at her once more before getting into the car.

When I come back, I know nothing will be the same.

—

I feel unsettled during the entire flight. I can't stop feeling that this is the wrong choice. That I shouldn't be selling, that I shouldn't allow Bella to leave, that I should fight for all of the things that I'm coming to realize I want.

But ever since I lost Delilah, I've functioned by sticking to my plans. By not allowing my emotions to rule me. By following my head, and not my heart.

My head says that the plan I've made is the logical one. That I thought through all the reasons for and against selling, and decided it was the best choice for my family, for their future. That I made a promise to Bella, and any sign of going back on it, no matter the reason, will make it so that she doesn't trust me—will result in our parting being acrimonious, instead of amicable.

Logic tells me that I should stick to the decisions I've made. That for the last several years, I've made it through by doing exactly that. I can't let my emotions rule me now, when so much depends on me keeping my head.

I can't let my family down, when they need me the most.

Even that can't stop me from missing Bella, though. From the moment I check into the luxury hotel room in Rome, all I can think about is what it would be like to have her here with me. How she would react to the huge, soft bed, the clawfoot tub in the bathroom, the balcony with the stunning view. I can think of a dozen things I'd do to her in this room before we were here for an hour, and the thought makes me ache.

I love her. I want her. And I'm going to lose her.

I know I should leave her alone. But after a dinner of seafood spaghetti and fresh oysters washed down with crisp white wine in the hotel restaurant, I come back up to the room and look at my cell phone as I start to undress, thinking about her.

A need to hear her voice grips me. To know that she's still alright. To give her a chance to change my mind.

Before I can stop myself, I pick up the phone and find her in my contacts.

"Gabriel?" Her voice, soft and curious on the other end, sends a jolt of need through me. It takes everything in me not to walk out of the door this instant, get back on the plane, and go home to the estate. Home to her.

Is following my head really what I should be doing, when it feels like it's tearing apart my heart?

"I wanted to call and check in." I sit down heavily on the bed in my boxers, leaning back against the pillows. Just the sound of her voice already has me hardening, and I reach down and adjust myself. The idea of trying to seduce her into phone sex is tempting, but I remember all too clearly what she said before last night.

Just one more night.

We've blown through boundary after boundary, redrawn the lines in the sand so many times. At some point, if we're not going to do this for real, it has to stop.

"We're fine." Bella lets out a sigh, and I can picture her sitting down, too. I can't help but wonder if she's still sleeping in my bed now that I'm gone, or if she's gone back to her old bedroom. Without me there, there's no reason not to—unless she likes sleeping in my bed. Unless she still wants to feel close to me. "The children are sad we're leaving. But Agnes and I have kept them cheered up. We had a movie night with hot cocoa, and they're asleep now."

There's a fondness in her voice when she talks about Cecelia and Danny that makes my chest tighten. They're going to be broken-hearted that she's leaving, too. But I know what Bella would say if I raised that concern—that it's better than continuing to lie in front of them. To pretend that our marriage is something it's not.

But what if it really is?

"I'll be home the day after tomorrow." I let out a heavy breath. "We'll fly out to New York the morning after that. So there are two days left for any packing and getting ready. No need to rush."

"Aldo took them out to ride on the ponies this afternoon. We're trying to keep the routine pretty much the same. Agnes discussed a picnic tomorrow. We're handling it all just fine, I promise."

"I never doubted you would." That ache takes up residence in my chest again. "It's strange being away. I haven't gone on a business trip alone in a long time."

"You don't enjoy the peace and quiet?" Bella laughs softly, and my heart squeezes.

"Not as much as you might think."

There's silence after that, long enough that for a moment, I think I might have lost the connection. She lets out a sigh, and I sit up, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"I should let you get to bed. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay." Bella pauses again. "Good night, Gabriel."

It takes a long time for me to fall asleep. When I do, all my dreams are about her. I wake hard and aching, rolling over to reach for her, only to find that she's not there.

I feel heavy, weighted down as I get ready for the meeting. I'm meant to meet the buyer at a café across town, and I slip into a tailored suit, all the necessary files and paperwork tucked away in an envelope. I opt to walk, wanting the fresh air to clear my head, so that I can finish this without hesitation or mistakes.

The decision is made, it's too late to go back now.

It's a beautiful, sunny day, and the city is busy. I feel a small pang of nostalgia for New York, but not as much as I would have thought. In fact, I find myself missing the peace and quiet of the estate more.

It's just because it's what you're giving up, I tell myself as I pause at a crosswalk. Once you're home, you'll be glad you stuck to the plan.

"Gabriel. Fancy seeing you here, da ?"

A familiar voice behind me breaks me out of my thoughts, a cold chill running down my spine. I know who it is before I even turn, before I even see the iron-grey hair, the cold smile of satisfaction on his face, before I have a chance to register what this must mean.

I turn and see Igor standing behind me, coldly sophisticated in a grey suit. That cold smile spreads as he sees the recognition on my face.

"What are you doing here?" I'm amazed at how calmly the words come out, considering the racing of my pulse. "You have no business in Rome."

"Don't I?" Igor smiles. "I brought you here, after all. You were so ready to move on from your past. So quick to try to make a future with someone who isn't yours. You wanted to believe in that truce so badly."

"I know you met with Salvatore." My mind races, trying to parse out the truth from the lies. "My man, Gio?—"

"Of course I did. That meeting went ahead. I couldn't deny the don his voice, after all."

"So there's peace. A truce." I cling to that one thing, knowing that it won't make a difference. That it never did.

Bella and I were both right about that. But I never could have foreseen this trap.

Igor's smile remains, cold and victorious. "That's exactly what I wanted you to think, Gabriel. And now, I will have what I want."

He doesn't flinch as he steps past me, towards the crosswalk I was about to step into. He looks back just once, as a black car pulls up to the curb.

"What should have always been mine."