5. Bella

5

BELLA

F or a moment, when Gabriel's mouth touches mine, all of my fear about the consequences of his rescue flees. I can't breathe. I can't think about anything other than how good it feels, how right , his hands sliding over me as if he needs to prove to himself that I'm real, that I'm safe, that I'm here . Neither of us has ever said a word aloud about what we might feel for each other. Of all the lines that we've crossed, we've kept that one carefully drawn in the sand. But now?—

I wondered, after Igor took me, after being manhandled by guards and Dr. Maglin, if I would regress all the way back to the way things were before Gabriel and I started to work through my issues with touch. If I would once again feel like I was about to panic from something as simple as him reaching for my hand.

But I've found out in a matter of moments that Gabriel is the one man on earth now who can touch me with impunity. There's no fear in me for that brief space of time, just a desperate desire to lose myself in him, to let everything bad, everything that I'm afraid of wash away on a tide of sensation. His mouth, firm and hot and hungry against mine, his hands curving over my breasts, the way my entire body feels lit up from within, pleasure like nothing I'd ever imagined I could feel washing over me.

We promised that we weren't going to do this again. We should stop. I know we should stop. Especially after what happened, knowing that I'm the cause of him being caught up in so much danger, I should remind him of our deal. That after that one night, we would never do this again.

But I'm weak. I want him too badly. I want him to erase all the hands that have touched me between that night and now, to replace them with new memories. With the heat, the hunger that I can feel radiating off of him, begging for more, the same way my body arches up into his as he presses me back against the wall of the bedroom, his tongue sliding into my mouth as I feel his hard cock pressing into my thigh.

For a moment, I think he'll keep going. His hand slides down my waist, as if re-memorizing my curves, squeezes my hip as he leans into me and groans. I feel him throbbing against my thigh, and I grind my hips into him as his fingers slip between us, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. I don't want him to stop. Because while we're doing this, I'm not thinking about anything other than how it feels. I'm not thinking about the fact that Igor will rain hell down on all of us now, or the fact that Gabriel should never, never have come after me. The whole world narrows down to this, to his tongue sliding over my lower lip and his mouth slanting over mine, the heavy, muscled press of his body against me, flooding me with heat and sensation and driving everything else away.

I want him right here, up against the wall. Just like that morning in the gym, but this time, I want to go all the way. I want?—

Gabriel breaks the kiss, stepping back, putting space between us as he tries to draw a breath. His chest is heaving, his face flushed, and his eyes are dark with need as he looks at me, his gaze raking over me from my forehead to my toes and back up again as if he wants to devour me whole.

"I'm sorry," he manages, and I stare at him for a moment, uncomprehending.

"What?" I feel like my brain stutters, like nothing quite makes sense for a moment. I'm floating on a high of sensation, and it's as if my body and mine physically resist returning to the real world, where we have to face the consequences of what's happening.

But I'm dragged back into it anyway.

"You—you've been through all of this, with Igor, and the moment we're alone, I just—" He looks down at his hands, as if it's somehow incomprehensible to him that he just touched me the way he did. It feels like a sharp pain in my chest, seeing him regret it. The last thing that I ever wanted was for Gabriel to regret anything we did together. And up until this very moment, I've never seen even a hint of that.

But now—after what Igor did…

I can't help but think that he has reason to regret it. That it would make sense, if he did. That maybe he's thinking over what I said, and wondering if he should have left me there after all.

"We weren't supposed to do this again," he continues. "We agreed. I should have been able to stop myself. I shouldn't have kissed you."

I bite my lip, trying to breathe normally enough to even begin to respond. "It's alright," I finally manage, my heart still racing in my chest. I can't think of what else to say; everything in my head still feeling muddled and foggy. I'm still aching for him to come back, to touch me again, to kiss me like he did a moment ago. I want to forget everything that's happened since that awful afternoon in his kitchen, and his hands on me make it so that I can do exactly that.

"I wanted it, too," I whisper softly, a part of me hoping that he might change his mind. That he'll throw caution to the wind. That we can put aside everything that needs to be worried about right now, and just?—

"We should focus on what's happening," Gabriel says carefully, as if he could hear my thoughts. He takes another few steps back, as if he needs space, and my heart aches. I want to reach out to him, but it seems to me that he's made it clear how he feels about that, at least for right now.

"Okay," I say quietly, biting my lip. "You said we're going to Italy?" My mind is racing, the fear flooding back in as the moment with Gabriel fades into the background. Italy feels very far away, but is it far enough? Is anywhere far enough to get away from Igor and his threats?

Gabriel nods. "Yes." He hesitates then, sinking down onto the edge of the armchair to my left, his hands rubbing over his knees. I can't help but notice the way his gaze flicks to the bed, and then drops to the floor again, before he looks back at me. "What happened with Igor, Bella?"

"Do we have to talk about it?" I whisper, my voice small. My knees feel watery—at first from Gabriel kissing me up against the wall, but now because of the fear that prickles over my skin, chilling me to the bone as I remember Igor and his mansion and everything that I thought I wasn't going to be able to escape. Everything that he threatened, if I did.

Gabriel shakes his head. "No," he says quietly. "I won't make you talk about anything that you're not ready for. I think you know that by now. But I think—" He trails off again, and I let out a breath, my chest tightening.

"It would be good for you to know, since you're caught up in it, too," I murmur dully, my hands curling into anxious fists as my nails bite into my palms. None of this would be happening if I had never gone to work for him. None of this would be happening now, making it worse, if he hadn't come to get me. I don't want to go back—I don't want to be trapped with Igor in his mansion; I don't want to be his wife. I don't know how I would have survived any of it, and yet?—

Gabriel shouldn't have to be the one who pays for it when Igor comes after me. He and his family—the people other than Clara that I care most about in the world.

Gabriel nods slowly. "It would be good for me to know what we're up against. What it is that Igor wanted from you, what he had planned. But I can't begin to imagine how hard it would be to relive all of that by talking about it, especially when it happened so recently. And especially after—" He presses his lips together briefly, his mouth a thin line. "After what happened before."

He's right. We're going to another country in order to put distance between Igor and Gabriel's family, and Gabriel should know what Igor had intended. But the thought of talking about it makes me feel as if my legs can no longer hold me up, and I sink down to the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees as I pull them into my chest. For a moment, I feel like I'm going to burst into tears, and I fight it back.

"He said he was going to give me to his men, at first." I look down at the floor as I speak; I can't bear to see the look on Gabriel's face as I explain. "But he liked my defiance. He said I was responsible for what happened to Pyotr, because of what my family arranged and did, and that since all of that lost him his heir, he'd get a new one from me, instead. So he planned to marry me. He was arranging for the wedding when you—" I draw in a slow breath, trying to remind myself that I'm here now, that I'm free, and Igor can't get to me here. Not at this moment, at least. What happens later will be something I'll have to face, but at least for right now, I'm safe. "When you rescued me."

When I look up, the expression on Gabriel's face is tight and angry, an echo of what I saw the night that I told him about what had happened at my wedding to Pyotr, of the fury that I saw when he walked into the house to see Igor holding me and his family at gunpoint. His hands are clenched into fists on his knees, and I can see the flush creeping up his throat, his eyes dark with fury.

"Did he—" He doesn't finish the sentence, and he barely gets two words out before I shake my head.

"No," I tell him quickly. "He said he wouldn't touch me until our wedding night. He treated it like—" I swallow hard. "Like he was doing me a favor. But he said he'd observe the proprieties, even though I wasn't a virgin any longer."

Gabriel's face goes ashen, his lips pressed tightly together, his jaw clenched. "Shit," he breathes. "God, I'm sorry, Bella. The fact that I, that we—it could have been so much worse for you, because you weren't—anymore—" It's clear that he can't fully get the words out, his voice thick with anger, and I shake my head quickly. I can't bear the thought of him wishing he could take that back. Not that night, a night that at one point I'd never thought I would manage to have with anyone.

"But it wasn't." I lean forward, part of me wanting to go to him, and part of me needing the space in this particular moment, with all of the memories crowding in. I both don't want to be touched, and want the comfort of his arms around me all at once, and it's the strangest thing I've ever experienced. "It wasn't worse."

"How did he know?" Gabriel's expression looks pained. "Did he make you tell him, about?—"

I shake my head. "He had a doctor examine me." It comes out a little choked, my throat tightening at the memory of Dr. Maglin's hands on me. I shudder, my skin prickling. "The doctor was—professional about it. But it was still?—"

"Fuck, Bella." Gabriel starts to get up, as if he's going to come to me, and then sinks back down, his expression hurt and confused. It's clear he wants to comfort me, and isn't sure how, any longer. There are so many layers to what we are to each other now—at one point, he knew not to touch me at all. And then that changed. But now, we're no longer lovers, and after what happened, I know he's wondering if everything we managed to heal has been opened up again, stitches yanked out of a wound.

"I want to say that I can't believe he would do that," Gabriel says quietly, sinking back down with his hands in his lap. He stares down at them, as if there's some answer there, something that can fix all of this. "But I can. I know what men like him are capable of. But I'm not going to let him get to you again, Bella." He looks up at me sharply, his expression firm. "I'll make sure you're protected."

"He's going to come after me." The brief moment of safety flees, and I look up at him, cold all over again. "Gabriel, the things he threatened—" I should tell him about that, too, but I can't bring myself to say it out loud. My throat closes up every time I try, and I can feel myself shaking harder. "He's not going to let this go. He won't just take it out on me, either—he's not going to let you all go again, and?—"

Gabriel looks up sharply. "I can protect you, Bella. I need you to trust me on that. Please." His eyes are dark and intense as they fix on mine, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. "Please trust me."

I let out a slow breath, biting my lip as I squeeze my arms more tightly around my knees. "You said we're going to Italy," I murmur finally. "Tell me more about that."

Gabriel gives me a faint smile, clearly relieved that I've let it go for now. "We're going to my family's estate," he says, and I look up sharply at that, surprised. He laughs. "I didn't realize you'd be so caught off guard."

"You never mentioned an estate in Italy before." It comes out before I can really think about the implications of such a statement—there's no reason he would have ever mentioned it to me, unless he just wanted to talk about it. At the end of the day, no matter what else has passed between us, I work for Gabriel. The circumstances are strange now, after all that's happened in the last few days, but I'm still just his children's nanny, a woman he employed to do a job. We were more than that, briefly—but we've never been together, not really. The reminder aches in a way that I didn't expect it to, and I look down, unable to meet his eyes for a moment.

I can't tell if he picks up on what I'm thinking, but his voice is quiet when he responds.

"I didn't think to mention it. I haven't been back in a long time. Years—not since Cecelia was small. I'm only going back now because—" He lets out a breath. "Well, that's not really important. But what is important is that it should be relatively safe. It's far from any large city—there's a small town adjacent to it, but it's out in the countryside. If Igor sends men to come sniffing around, it will be noticeable."

"And what if he does?" I swallow hard, my arms tightening around my knees. The fear weighs me down, the thought rattling in my head that it doesn't matter how far we run or what plans Gabriel makes. Igor is never going to let this go.

"I'm arranging for some security," Gabriel promises. "How much will depend on what my intelligence here tells me. I've tried to stay out of the deadlier parts of the mafia business, but I do have some contacts," he says with a wan smile. "I'll be keeping an eye on the situation from a distance. And I'll adjust accordingly." He sees my expression, and sighs. "I've got it, Bella. I hadn't fully grasped how deadly the situation would be before. I'm going to make sure I don't underestimate him this time."

"What is the estate like?" I grasp for a topic, something that might distract me, that will keep me from thinking that this is hopeless. I can't undo Gabriel rescuing me—and in my heart of hearts, I can't say that I want to, as guilty as it makes me feel. But at the same time, I can't help but also feel that we're all going to suffer now, when it could have only been me. "I've never been out of the country before. I've actually never flown before," I add with a small, forced laugh.

"It's beautiful." Gabriel runs a hand through his hair, and I can tell that he's still agitated. "There's a working vineyard there. It's what brings in most of the estate's income. And racehorses, as well. That's the other, smaller part. My father loved them, although the profit was often questionable—horses, especially those, are expensive to keep and train. But they were his pride and joy." There's a faint smile on his face, remembering. "There's some additional livestock there as well that I'm sure Cecelia and Danny will love. Goats, sheep. Lambs, this time of year. They've never seen it—like I said, Cecelia was just a baby the last time I was there. I was going to go alone, for business, but?—"

He trails off, knowing he doesn't need to finish the sentence, to elaborate on why we're all going instead. "This seemed like the best option to keep everyone safe," he says finally. "I was putting the trip off for a while, because I didn't want to leave Cecelia and Danny. I was actually coming home early…that day…to tell you that I'd be going on the trip, since you have adjusted so well to taking care of them."

And because you needed space from me. I see the flicker of guilt in his eyes, the way he looks quickly away. He'd planned to go on the trip to put space between us, to let things cool off so that we could go back to the way they were before—before we slept together, before I gave him my virginity.

"But you came home to find us all at gunpoint instead." My voice cracks, tears burning hotly behind my eyes. "I'm sorry," I manage, looking up and seeing his gaze on me once again. "I'm sorry I brought all of this down on you?—"

"There's nothing to apologize for." Gabriel's voice is knife-sharp, cutting through the air between us. "This isn't your fault, Bella, and I don't ever want you to think it is."

"If I hadn't taken the job—or if I'd told you sooner—" The words spill out, and I can't stop them, guilt weighing me down. "And now, Igor is going to be even more furious, and—" My voice cracks, unshed tears burning behind my eyelids.

"Bella." This time he does stand up, crossing the space between us and getting down on the floor next to me. His legs are almost touching mine as he reaches out, his fingers wrapping around the sides of my hands. "I wanted to help you, from the moment you ran into me in that hallway. I would have wanted to help you no matter what. I underestimated the threat Igor posed, but that's my fault, not yours. I knew as soon as you opened up to me that night that there were risks, and I chose to take them on. This isn't your fault."

He says it again, firmly, and I look up at him with watery eyes.

"Okay," I whisper, even though I don't know if I fully believe it. I'm not sure how he can. It's objectively true that if I'd never taken his offer of a job, if I'd never been in his life, then this would have never touched him and his family. I don't know how he can say that it doesn't matter, that he doesn't blame me, and mean it. Especially when it's far from over.

His gaze meets mine, and I feel that tension ripple through the air again, spreading through me. I'm aching with wanting him, even just the feeling of having him close, but I can also feel exhaustion settling in—all the fear and uncertainty of the past days combined with the adrenaline of our escape weighing me down. But there's one thing that I know I want, for sure.

"Can you stay with me while I sleep?" I ask softly, my fingers curling against his. "My pills are back at your house. And?—"

"I brought them for you." Gabriel stands up, motioning to a bag by the door that I hadn't noticed before, but now recognize as a quilted fabric duffel that belongs to me. The pretty blue print cheers me up somehow, a hint of something familiar in all of this uncertain terrain. "I brought some of your things, too. I always planned on coming to get you, Bella," he adds softly. "I wasn't going to leave you there."

I bite my lip, nodding, trying to show only gratitude and not my disappointment or the lingering fear, as he unzips a pocket on the bag, fishing out the small orange bottle of my trazodone. "But," he adds, his gaze flicking to mine, "of course I'll stay, Bella, if you still want me to."

Relief washes over me. "Yes," I say softly, pushing myself to my feet and reaching for the bottle. "At least until I fall asleep."

Gabriel sinks down onto the edge of the bed as I disappear into the small bathroom. I feel off-balance, and I grip the edges of the narrow sink, trying to get my bearings. I've never even been on a plane before, and it feels disconcerting, standing in what feels like a normal, if small, bathroom while also being thousands of feet in the air. The luxury of the private jet isn't surprising, exactly—it's just that I never imagined this, and it feels like a lot, in the midst of all of this chaos. It also feels like one thing that I can latch onto as feeling strange, that doesn't come with a whole host of other feelings along with it.

I wash my face and change into something to sleep in, glad to be out of the clothes that Igor gave me. I kick them into a pile in the corner, making a mental note to tell Gabriel that I don't ever want to wear them again.

The clothes sitting on the counter— my clothes—are a testament to just how thoughtful Gabriel is, how he knew that I might be thrown right back into all the symptoms of my PTSD all over again from this, and anticipated it. There's a pair of long pink-and-white striped sleep pants, and a long-sleeved blush pink shirt, both soft and cozy. I slip into them and immediately feel a sense of comfort.

Quickly, I wash down the pill, and walk back out into the bedroom. Gabriel has kicked his shoes off and changed into a pair of black pajama pants and a grey t-shirt, his hair curling slightly from the rain and humidity. He looks younger, handsome, and boyish despite the scruff on his face, and desire blooms through me as I look at him, soft and warm.

But I know better. Even if we both wanted to do this again—and I'm no longer sure that he does—tonight isn't the time. Not when emotions are running so high, and we're both so exhausted, not when there's so much left unsaid. But I can't help wanting him, as I look at him and remember how it felt to have his hands sliding all over me, his mouth on my skin?—

"Bella." Gabriel moves over, patting the bed, and I walk towards him, my pulse picking up pace even though I know nothing is going to happen. I slide under the covers, and he slides in next to me, his body curving around mine as he drapes his arm over my waist.

"I didn't know the bed would be so comfortable," I whisper drowsily, the sleeping pill already taking hold, and Gabriel chuckles softly.

"I'm a billionaire, Bella. This is a private jet. Did you think I'd have an air mattress in the bedroom?"

I giggle despite myself, sinking into the warmth of him pressed against me, luxuriating in the feeling of having him so close. Of it being alright, at least for this one night, to have him hold me with no questions asked, no complications about what it might or might not mean. "I didn't really think about it at all," I admit. "I never wondered if you had one. And we were running for our lives when you told me, so?—"

"That's fair." He presses a soft kiss to my hair, and a shiver runs down my spine. "Go to sleep, Bella. I'm right here."

At that moment, the fear recedes again, just for a second. And all I can think is that I want him to stay there, for as long as he possibly can.