14. Bella

14

BELLA

T he rest of the night is filled with fractured dreams, none of them good, but also none of them bad enough to jolt me awake again. I wake feeling as if I got the worst night’s sleep that I have had in a long time, which is true—and also embarrassed, when the rest of the night before comes rushing back to me.

Gabriel, coming into my room, obviously woken up by my screaming. My heart leaps into my throat as I remember him putting his arms around me the moment that he saw I was crying, how he pulled me against his chest for that brief moment before I panicked and jerked away. Last night, still half in the grip of the nightmare, it terrified me. But now, in the morning light, I feel a flutter in my chest, something other than fear.

He let go. I remember that, too, the way he immediately stopped touching me the moment he realized that it was making things worse. The way he listened. The way he tried to help.

The way he’s letting me stay, even though I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted me to leave.

I go through my usual morning routine of getting in the shower and getting dressed, and then going to get Cecelia and Danny up and ready for the day. To my surprise, when we walk into the dining room, Gabriel is sitting at the table.

My heart instantly stutters in my chest, anxiety filling me. Did he change his mind? I wonder numbly as the children run to the table, sitting down next to him, clearly excited that he’s home on a weekday morning. Is he going to tell me that he mulled it over, and he actually thinks it’s better if I go?

Gabriel looks up at me with a smile, and I see the concern creasing the corners of his eyes. It doesn’t make me feel better. If anything, that concern ramps my anxiety up another notch, the possibility of him telling me that it’s better if I leave making me feel like I might pass out before I actually get the chance to sit down.

He seems to see the worry on my face, as hard as I try to hide it, because he stands up, murmuring something to Cecelia before coming around the table to where I’m standing. He motions for me to follow him as he steps outside the dining room, and I feel a surge of panic, followed by the burn of threatening tears behind my eyes.

This is it. He’s going to tell me to go. He’s going to ? —

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, swallowing hard. “About last night. For waking you up, and?—”

“Bella.” His tone is kind, but firm, and everything I was about to keep saying dies on my lips. “It’s alright. Everything I said last night still stands. I didn’t rethink it all in the morning, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

That does bring me up short, even more so. “It is,” I admit quietly, biting my lip. And as I do, I see his eyes flick downwards, ever so briefly, settling on my mouth for the briefest of seconds before he looks quickly back up and meets my eyes again.

There’s a sudden charge in the air, that spark that I’ve felt before between us, that I felt that night in the living room when he tried to help me clean up the spilled wine. My heart flutters, and my breath catches, but for that brief moment, none of it feels bad.

It feels, like it did that night, like I might want it to happen. Like if he reached out and touched me right now, I might not pull away.

I don’t know. I don’t know how it would feel, and a part of me wants to find out. Another part of me is terrified to try.

And the rest remembers that out of all of the men in the world, Gabriel Esposito is by far one of the most off-limits.

There’s a sudden loud clang from the dining room, the sound of silverware being dropped on something, and Gabriel and I both flinch at the same time, the moment between us shattered. He smiles abruptly, a deep laugh filling that space where the spark was a moment ago.

“We should probably go back into the dining room,” he says, almost conspiratorially. “I think Agnes has started getting used to not needing to keep an eye on them.”

The laugh that bubbles up from me is startling. I haven’t really laughed in a long time, and for a moment, the genuine sound of it makes me want to look for who else is in the room with us, because it couldn’t be coming from me. But it is, and warmth fills my chest at the thought that maybe Gabriel was right, last night. Maybe things do get better, in time.

Maybe I could get better. Maybe I won’t ever feel comfortable enough to touch someone, maybe romance and love are foregone conclusions for me, but maybe I can get better in other ways. Maybe I could even find the nerve to take Clara’s advice, and, in time, talk to Gabriel about how I could break free from my father’s hold over me. How I could use my job here to become independent, so I can live my own life, and heal without the specter of a forced marriage hanging over me.

We settle back in at the breakfast table—breakfast this morning is lemon-ricotta pancakes with orange syrup—and I nibble at mine as Cecelia puts her fork down and turns to look at Gabriel.

“Dad, can we go into the city soon? Like, all of us?”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “Probably,” he ventures. “Why? Is there a particular reason?”

“There’s a new American Girl doll.” Cecelia’s face brightens as she starts to explain. “She has a pink outfit, and a horse that you can get, too! And the horse is named Hollyhock, and she has sparkles in her mane, and a blue and pink saddle, and—” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “My friend Marianne at school told me that there’s a whole store downtown. They have all the dolls and tons of accessories, and you can get pretty much whatever you want there. And I really want to visit. Can we visit soon? Please?”

“Yes! Let’s go!” Danny chimes in. “I wanna go to the Lego store.”

Gabriel smiles, and I’m struck again by how genuinely affectionate and loving he is towards his children. My father would have found those kinds of requests annoying when I was little—he wouldn’t have denied me anything, but he also wouldn’t have put together a trip to go to the city. He would have just sent an assistant to go buy whatever it was I wanted and given it to me, and even though back then I would have thought it seemed spoiled to say it aloud, it’s not the same.

But now, looking at Cecelia’s excitement and Gabriel’s indulgent smile, I realize it wasn’t spoiled at all. Because it wasn’t the toy I wanted so much as time spent with my only parent, and to feel loved. We could have been going on a trip for anything, and I would have been excited.

“We can absolutely do that,” Gabriel says. “But I have a different idea, if you like it.” He glances up at me. “What if Bella takes you today? I can tell you’re really excited. I’ll send Gio with you, and he can keep an eye on you guys and Bella, make sure you’re safe in the big city. How does that sound?”

Cecelia’s eyes go round. “ Yes ,” she breathes. “We can go today ?” Her head immediately swivels towards me, pleading in her eyes, as if I actually have a voice in this decision. “Say yes, Bella!” she exclaims, and I laugh.

“If your dad says it’s okay, then of course it is,” I tell her, and she lets out a small squeal of excitement, clapping her hands as Danny eagerly kicks his legs back and forth against the chair. The room is filled with the obvious excitement, and I bite my lip, trying not to show any of my own uncertainty until we’re done with breakfast.

But as Gabriel gets up to go, I quickly excuse myself, telling Cecelia and Danny to help Agnes clean up as I follow him out of the room. He hears my footsteps and pauses, turning around to look at me. “Is everything alright?”

“Are you sure you trust me to take them downtown?” I bite my lip, feeling nervous.

“Of course. You said you go to the city to visit Clara, right? You’ve been in Manhattan plenty of times.”

“Yes, but—” I hesitate. “By myself, meeting Clara. Not responsible for someone else’s kids. I just wanted to make sure?—”

“You’ve shown that you’re very capable with them,” Gabriel reassures me. “And you’re an adult. You can handle being in the city just fine—like you said, you’ve been there plenty of times before. I’m not worried about it in the slightest.”

I’m still surprised that he trusts me this much, especially after seeing me so distraught last night. But it also makes me happy that he’s treating me like this—like I’m capable and independent, when I’ve spent my whole life prior to this being treated as something to be bartered away. Something to only be given enough independence to keep me placated, so that I wouldn’t make too many waves when the time came to sell me off.

Gabriel reaches into his pocket, taking out a slim leather wallet, and handing me a heavy black credit card. “There’s no limit to worry about on this,” he says casually, as I take the card. “Get Clara and Danny whatever they want at the stores they want to go to, take them out to lunch. And spend whatever you please, too,” he adds. “Get yourself something nice. I’ll text my driver, Jason, and tell Gio to meet you all out front in an hour. Enjoy yourselves,” he adds, and then he turns to go, walking away as if he didn’t just hand me carte blanche with his money and tell me he didn’t care what I did with it.

I’ve grown up with money. It’s not like spending it is strange to me, even if my father only ekes out the smallest of allowances to me compared with what he has at his disposal. Even though our family doesn’t compare to the wealth of some of the higher-ranking mafia elite, we’re still in that upper percentile of wealth. My father is the one who is never satisfied—I’ve always felt that I had plenty growing up.

But being handed a limitless credit card and being told in so many words to go nuts is something new to me. My father has always restricted my personal spending, and he’s definitely never been the kind to let me spoil myself. If I asked for something, he’d get it for me, but I’ve never been the sort of rich daddy’s girl to get to spend her father’s money however she pleases.

So this is a new feeling. One I’m determined not to take advantage of.

I slip the card into my pocket, and go to get Cecelia and Danny and get us all ready.

—

An hour later, we’re waiting out front as Jason, Gabriel’s driver, pulls the car around. Danny is wearing his favorite Batman shirt, and Cecelia has a tiered eyelet lace pink sundress on—undoubtedly something to do with the doll that she’s so excited about. I put on a pair of jeans and a thin grey Italian wool sweater with my Docs, and my rose gold jewelry. Despite my worries about being in charge of two rambunctious children in downtown Manhattan, I feel a thrill of excitement, too. I haven’t been away from Gabriel’s house since I started working here almost a month ago, and I’m excited to go into the city.

Gio, our bodyguard for the day, is sitting in the passenger’s seat when Jason pulls up. Jason looks young, maybe Gabriel’s age or a little older, but Gio is definitely much older—probably in his mid-forties. He’s built like a brick wall, with close-cropped hair and a serious expression that makes me think he must have been in the military at some point. I know his presence is supposed to make me feel safer, but I don’t, not really.

A part of me is always afraid that the Bratva will come looking for me again. That in their minds, I’m somehow to blame for all of what happened, at least in part, and they’ll come find me to exact revenge for Pyotr’s death. In the conscious part of my mind, I feel like that’s unlikely—I had no power in any of it. I was just a card to be played by men more powerful and well-connected than I’ll ever be. But deep down, there’s always that fear. It twinges when I least expect it, haunting me, making me feel like I’ll never be able to be free of what happened. No matter how much time passes.

It gets better . I keep repeating what Gabriel said last night, like a mantra I can cling to. What happened to him isn’t the same, and I don’t know all the details, but it’s horrible, too, in a different way. So if he can feel that it gets better, then maybe I can, too.

The three of us get into the car, and Jason twists around to look at us. “Miss D’Amelio?” he asks, nodding at me, and I laugh a little. It reminds me of home, and I shake my head.

“Please, just call me Bella.”

He gives me a dubious look, but nods, which I appreciate. “Alright then, Bella,” he says easily. “Where are we off to?”

I give him the address of the American Girl store in downtown Manhattan, and we’re off. Gabriel has rules about how much screen time Cecelia and Danny are allowed, but they each have their own tablet, and for the duration of the car ride there and back, they have free rein. Danny is happily reading his comics via an app, and Cecelia is playing a game, the chipper background music filling the interior of the car as we drive.

I feel another small thrill of nervous excitement when we go through the Lincoln Tunnel, the familiar bustle of the city making me feel both happy to be in a familiar place and nervous that I’ll screw this up somehow. Jason pulls up to the curb, putting the car in park, and turns to face me again as Gio gets out of the car. “Here’s my number,” he says, rattling it off as I get my phone out. “I’ll park in a garage, hang out until you’re ready to go. Just give me a ten or fifteen-minute warning, and I’ll come pick you up wherever you like.”

“Thanks.” I flash him a quick smile as Gio opens the door, and then I slide out into the baking heat of downtown Manhattan in the summer, a pang of regret in my stomach that I can’t bring myself to wear normal summer clothes any longer. I’m going to roast alive in this sweater.

At least everywhere keeps the air conditioning at ridiculous levels, I think as Cecelia and Danny slide out, and I shepherd them safely onto the sidewalk. Gio shadows us as we walk to the store, and I can tell Cecelia is having trouble not rushing ahead. “Stay close,” I warn her. “I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.”

“It’s not my first time in the city,” she tells me primly, with the smallest hint of disdain that almost makes me laugh, although I stifle it so that she doesn’t think I’m laughing at her. “I know not to run off.”

“Just making sure,” I tell her, keeping my hand tightly wrapped around Danny’s so there’s no chance of losing him, either. I open the door for Cecelia as we walk up to the American Girl store, and as soon as she’s inside, she’s off like a shot. Danny wrinkles his nose, looking up at me.

“I wanna go to the Lego store,” he mumbles, and I laugh, squeezing his hand.

“We’ll go there next,” I promise him. “As soon as your sister has gotten what she wants.”

He seems mollified by that. We follow Cecelia through the store as she oohs and aahs over the dolls and their accessories and clothes, and I can’t help but be impressed. I loved these dolls when I was younger, too, and I would have loved to be in a store like this. It’s heaven for an eleven-year-old girl, and Cecelia’s face is bright with excitement. She zeroes in immediately on the doll she wanted, collecting her, and then browsing with the doll in her arms as she looks for the items she wants to go with her.

Gabriel said she could have whatever she wanted, so I don’t stop her as she collects the toy horse that goes along with the doll, a complete gymnastics set, a stuffed dog, and three other outfits. A slightly harried-looking employee joins us shortly into the shopping, taking Cecelia’s purchases to the register, except for the actual doll that she clearly very much wants to hang onto.

“I loved all of this when I was your age,” I tell her as we make another loop, Cecelia picking up outfits, peering at them, and putting them down again. She’s clearly taking this all very seriously, curating an outfit for her doll, and I can’t help but love that she’s so into it. Everyone deserves to have a hobby that they enjoy, a personal interest all for themselves. I hope the fact that Gabriel so clearly encourages this will ensure that Cecelia still has those interests and hobbies as she grows up.

“Really?” Cecelia looks up at me, surprised, as if it hadn’t occurred to her that I was once her age. But I remember that, being so shocked that adults were ever once young, when I was eleven.

I nod. “I had a bunch of the dolls. I never came here, though. It’s really magical.”

“It is .” Cecelia spins, her sundress floating around her knees, her face radiant with happiness. It’s infectious, and I smile as I watch her half-dance down the aisle. “Which one was your favorite?” she asks, turning to look at me, and I point to a different doll.

“Samantha.” I lead her in that direction, showing her the Victorian-themed doll. “I read her book and everything. I was obsessed with peppermint ice cream for months because of her.”

Cecelia looks at the brunette doll, and then back at me. “She’s pretty,” she says. “If I get the book, will you read it to me?”

Something in my chest warms at that, and I feel almost like I could cry. Cecelia was so suspicious of me when I first arrived, but she’s warmed up to me over the past months, and this feels like another step. Like we’re making progress.

“Of course,” I tell her firmly, and Cecelia beams.

“Let’s get her, too, then,” she says excitedly. “And the book.”

An hour later, we leave with two bags full of dolls, books, and accessories, Danny’s patience having very nearly run out. I promise him that the Lego store is next, and we walk in that direction, Cecelia skipping next to us.

It’s blisteringly hot, and I’m grateful for the freezing burst of air conditioning as we walk into the Lego store. I nearly push my sleeves up to my elbows, but I see a few men who are in the store with their own children glance my way, and a shiver runs down my spine that has nothing to do with the chill in the store. I curl my fingers around the edge of my sleeves, and follow Danny to the section with all of the superhero Legos.

He spends a few minutes in that section before darting to another, looking at dinosaurs and Star Wars vehicles and everything else that he could want. I keep one eye on him while I wander a little, too, glancing over some of the sets more curated for adults. There was a Lego version of a retro Polaroid camera that I lingered by as I watched Danny stack boxes next to his feet. I thought of what Gabriel had said earlier, that I should get myself something nice.

“Ma’am?” A thin young man who looked like he was younger than me hovered nearby. “Is he with you?” He nodded to Danny, and I laughed.

“Yes. Whatever he wants, just put it behind the register. I’ll pay when he’s finished.”

I thought I saw a hint of jealousy in the salesperson’s face as he nodded, going to collect Danny’s stack of purchases, and I couldn’t blame him. We were probably about to spend as much in just this store as he made in a month, possibly more.

I glanced at the camera again. Those, and the sets of flowers kept calling to me, and I considered it for just a moment. I thought having all those small pieces to put together might be good for my anxiety, that I could occupy some of my time in the evenings with it, and it looked like fun. But I couldn’t bring myself to spend Gabriel’s money on it.

He probably said that just to be nice, I thought, glancing once more at the camera. I remembered my own debit card and the allowance I usually had, and pulled out my phone just long enough to check the balance. If my father had added it this month, I could buy it on my own.

Something in my stomach dropped when I heard the balance—twenty-seven dollars, all that had been left after I’d spent the last of it going out with Clara before I’d taken the job with Gabriel. So my father had decided that I didn’t need it any longer, now that Gabriel was providing for me. A hot stab of resentment lanced through me, because I knew Gabriel had to be paying someone for the work I was doing, and it wasn’t me. Not resentment towards him, but towards my father, who couldn’t even bring himself to give me a percentage of that any longer. Sure, he probably imagined that I never left Gabriel’s house, but online shopping was a thing.

I pressed my lips together, walking away from the Lego camera as I saw that Danny seemed to be nearly finished. It’s just a toy , I told myself. One meant for older kids or adults, but still a toy, and something I didn’t need. But similarly to how I’d realized that my resentment over my father never taking me on outings like this had nothing to do with the material objects I wanted, and everything to do with time—this had nothing to do with not being able to buy the item itself, and everything to do with how happily my father had washed his hands of any responsibility towards me.

Until he could make more money by selling me off in another marriage, of course. Then, I would become valuable again.

I swallowed back the resentment, not wanting either Cecelia or Danny to notice it on my face. Instead, I collected them and we went to the register with Danny’s purchases—a Batmobile, a T-Rex and visitor’s center set from Jurassic Park, and a ship from Star Wars. Cecelia had found a set of Snow White’s cottage with all of the dwarves, and added it to the stack, while I swiped the black credit card and we gathered more bags.

I texted Jason, asking him if he could meet me to collect the purchases while we went to lunch. He replied almost immediately, letting me know he could, and we walked outside to wait for him to pull up and take the bags, before I looked over at Cecelia and Danny.

“What do you two want for lunch?” I asked, and the conflicting answers came almost immediately.

“Italian,” Cecelia said, at the same time that Danny enthusiastically put in a vote for burgers.

“What about a very fancy burger place?” I ask Cecelia. “They might even have one that has Italian flavors. But they have a lot of different stuff. I went there with Clara a while back.”

A while back was nearly a year ago. It felt like a lifetime now, a different Bella, who had worn a sundress and high heels and flirted with the cute waiter who had brought us our burgers, and joked about how she wished she could leave her number for him. A girl a million miles removed from me now, overheated in my sweater and heavy boots, feeling sick every time a man looks my way.

“Fancy burgers sound okay,” Cecelia concedes. “Do they have ice cream?”

“They do,” I promise her, and then we’re off again, as I look up the walking directions to the restaurant on my phone.

Cecelia is, as I expected, immediately charmed by the interior of the restaurant. It’s all a retro fifties theme, with black and white checkered tile, red leather booths, and mint-colored stools at the bar located at the far side of the restaurant. The menus are all themed similarly, and Cecelia brightens up as the hostess takes us to one of the booths.

“I’d have loved it immediately if you showed me a picture,” she says enthusiastically, and I laugh as I slide in opposite the two of them.

“I thought the surprise would be fun.” I nudge one of the menus towards her, and the three of us start to peruse them; Cecelia thoroughly excited at the long list of milkshake flavors. I promise her and Danny each one as long as they finish their burgers and fries.

Danny ends up wanting the Elvis burger, which has peanut butter on it, and won’t be dissuaded no matter how many times I tell him that he’s probably not going to like it. Cecelia opts for a burger with balsamic mayo, caramelized onions, goat cheese, and arugula on it—probably the most sophisticated choice on the menu, which doesn’t surprise me at all, and I get the Hawaiian burger and a cherry cola. I order a basket of parmesan truffle fries for the table, and I watch the two of them eagerly dig in, Danny dipping them in ketchup and Cecelia calling him a barbarian as she sticks to the lemon aioli that came with them.

I can’t help but think, as I watch them fondly, how much this job has changed my feelings about having kids in just a few short weeks. It had always been presented to me as a duty, a necessary part of the life I was expected to live, rather than something I could want, or not. I really never bothered thinking about my own feelings, because it felt like too awful of a possibility to realize that I didn’t want them, and be chained to having to have them anyway. But now I can see that I had nothing to worry about. In fact, in the event that I can’t escape the future that my father has planned for me and have to agree to marry his choice eventually, at least?—

The thought gives me only a brief moment of relief before everything else about it slams into me with the weight of a ton of bricks. There’s the ever-present problem of how children are made, the fact that I’d have to allow someone to touch me intimately, and not just someone , but a man I don’t love and probably won’t even like, a thought that takes any scrap of appetite I had and dissolves it in an instant. And then there’s the rest of it, the fact that I’m beginning to love these two kids, that I’m realizing it will break my heart if I ever have to leave them, and they’re not even my children. They’re Gabriel’s, with his late wife, and no matter how long I care for them or how much I love them, I’ll always just be the nanny. Someone who will eventually no longer be needed. I’m not their mother, to keep taking care of them when they’re teenagers and dealing with all the struggles of older adolescence, or to provide the comforts and love of home for them when they come back from college, or to see all their big milestones as they grow up. I’m impermanent, and I was always meant to be that.

You’re also being maudlin, I tell myself as our food comes. This is a job. You’re being ridiculous. It’s good that you’re happy, and you love them, but you can’t get so attached.

Luckily, I’m quickly distracted by the fact that Danny absolutely does not like his burger, and I quickly flag down the server and order a replacement, a much more normal cheeseburger. Danny apologizes, looking like he’s on the verge of tears, and I shake my head, pushing the remainder of the fries towards him.

“Does this mean I don’t get a milkshake?” he asks, looking upset, and I shake my head again.

“Of course, you can still have a milkshake. You tried something new and didn’t like it. That’s not a bad thing. It just means you know now,” I reassure him, and he brightens immediately, wolfing down his new burger as soon as it arrives. Cecelia is very pleased with her choice, and I pick at my burger, eating as much of it as I can manage. I don’t want to give Cecelia the wrong ideas about my eating habits—that it has anything to do with weight—but I obviously can’t tell her the real reason for it either, and I don’t want to lie. Fortunately, she hasn’t asked, but I try to eat as much as I can in the meantime, just in case.

We order dessert—Cecelia asks if we can both get peppermint milkshakes, and I readily agree—and Danny gets a chocolate malt. I hand over Gabriel’s credit card when the bill comes, still feeling a little dizzy with the responsibility of having so much free reign with his money, and then we head back out into the sunshine, full of lunch and with a few hours left to explore.

Cecelia wants to go to a bookstore, so we do that, and then to a pet shop so that she and Danny can coo over the puppies. It turns out to not be the best idea—I have to explain to them that Gabriel’s carte blanche with the card doesn’t extend to bringing home a living, breathing animal, and that they’ll have to talk to him about it when we get home—and by the time we visit a few more shops, it’s starting to get late enough that we need to head home.

Jason collects us, and we all collapse into the car, exhausted and happy. Gabriel is in the living room when we get home, and both children immediately run to him, talking over each other as they relay the events of the day.

When they’ve both talked themselves out and shown him all their purchases, Gabriel shoos them upstairs and tells them to put their toys away. I hang back a little, in case he has any questions for me, and he gets up from the couch, walking over just in time for me to remember that he probably wants his card back.

“Here you go.” I fish it out of my wallet, handing the heavy black metal card back over to him. “I tried to be responsible, but they were very excited.”

“I’m glad you let them enjoy themselves. I’ll admit they’re both probably a little spoiled, but I can’t help it, after—” Gabriel pauses. “It doesn’t seem to be harming them any, so as long as they stay sweet, I don’t mind spoiling them.”

“They were both so happy,” I assure him. “Cecelia was blown away by the store. She wants to take you back there.”

“She didn’t buy out the whole place already?” Gabriel chuckles. “What did you get yourself?”

It takes me a moment to respond, I’m so startled. I’d convinced myself that he just said that to be nice, that he didn’t actually mean I should buy myself something with the credit card, that he would never seriously tell the nanny that she should spend his money on herself. But the look on his face isn’t teasing or joking or sarcastic, as if he’s expecting the answer to be, of course, I didn’t buy myself anything.

He looks expectant. Like he’s genuinely curious and thinks I got something for myself.

“Nothing,” I say quickly, too startled to think of any other response. “I—I didn’t think you were serious.”

Gabriel frowns. “Really? You didn’t believe me?”

“No, I mean—I didn’t think you’d want me to spend money on myself. I work for you, after all?—”

“Exactly. So I gave you instructions, and you’re supposed to obey them.”

He says it in a light tone, and I know it’s meant to be teasing—but his green eyes meet mine as he says it, and something snaps taut between us as a jolt of electricity tingles over my skin, and my heart starts to race.

There’s something else in those words. Something that has nothing to do with credit cards and foolish purchases. A promise of something dark and erotic that I’ve barely even begun to imagine, a tantalizing image of the kinds of instructions he could give me, that I could be expected to obey. It sparks something deep inside of me that I didn’t know existed, heat flaring in my belly, and my breath catches.

I’m suddenly very aware that we’re alone. That it’s just me and Gabriel in this room, and I have to struggle not to let my gaze drop to his hips, to see if there’s any sign that he’s affected by this, too, that this flickering desire isn’t all one-sided. But I don’t, because I’m not sure which would be worse—to see that he wants me, too, or to see that he doesn’t.

Gabriel clears his throat, taking a step back, and I think I see a flush just above his collar. He smiles, that joking expression returning, and the moment dissolves. But I know I didn’t imagine it, just like I didn’t imagine it this morning, or that night in the living room, or when he took me out to dinner that first time.

There’s something between us. But he’s been firm that he wants nothing to do with any of that, and I’m too terrified to try.

“I really did mean it, Bella,” he says, more gently this time, the way he talked to me last night when I woke up crying in my room. “I wanted you to get yourself something. Next time, if the opportunity arises, you should.”

And then he walks out of the room, leaving me still feeling slightly breathless, and more confused than ever.