28. Bella

28

BELLA

I come back from my run sweaty and wrung out, and I’m glad. I needed something to deal with the tangle of emotions that I felt after waking up alone in Gabriel’s bed. The disappointment that hit me in that first moment before I was fully awake, when I reached for him and realized that he wasn’t there.

It makes sense that he got up first. Waking up together would be something different than what we agreed to. Last night was the end, so he went back to what we were doing before, when I slept in his bed. He got up first; I was gone by the time he came back from his workout. Back to our normal routines, our normal lives. Easy—except it didn’t feel easy for me. Even though I know it’s what I said I wanted.

But it is what I said I wanted, so I went back to that, too—even though my chest still aches at the thought of waking up with him next to me, or the possibility of waking up to his hands and mouth on me, already eager for more. I want to know what that feels like—being woken up like that. If I’m being honest, there are a dozen things already that I’m wondering about, wanting to explore, to try—even though we agreed no more.

I want more. But I know better. I feel things for Gabriel that I shouldn’t, and I’m not so naive that I can’t tell that he feels some of those things, too. He just can’t follow through on them. So there’s no point in making it harder on us both.

I tell myself that it will go back to normal. That we’ll cool off, and this stabbing pain in my chest that feels like my heart cracking apart, like a breakup, that this craving I have for more of him—it will all go away. These are all just emotions that I’m having because I lost my virginity last night, and I’ll adapt. I’ve always heard that the morning after the first time is a mess of hormones and emotions. It’s better to work it out on my own, rather than burden Gabriel with it in the aftermath, only to realize in the end that I just needed some time to work through it. That my initial decision about what we would be afterward was always the right one.

I only listen to upbeat music on my run. No breakup songs or music that might make me think about Gabriel. I focus on the beat of my feet against the path, the warmth of the sun on my skin, the future that lies ahead of me now that I’m working through my past. The burn in my muscles and the new strength that I’ve gained from the workouts, helping me run further and faster. I beat my best time by the time I make it back around to the house, and I focus on how proud that makes me feel, how much progress I’m making in so many different areas of my life. That’s what I need to be focusing on right now. Myself, and getting better. That’s what this was all about in the first place.

Gabriel is already gone for the day when I get back, and I tell myself that’s good, too. I shower, get Cecelia and Danny up, and go about our day.

With them awake, it’s easy to push aside the lingering thoughts about Gabriel, the hurt that floods me every time I think about how things are over between us now. Neither of them can stop talking about the day in the city yesterday—the museum, the play, the dinner out. Cecelia is clearly an art lover, and she spends most of the time that we usually read quietly in the living room talking to me about the paintings, until I finally get my laptop and spend the second half of the hour looking up information about them with her. Danny is nose-deep in his new comic books, and I feel a little of my equilibrium returning at the feeling of normalcy that it gives me. The day is going on just as it always does, regardless of what’s happened between Gabriel and I—and as long as I don’t let it all get to me, it will continue to be that way. Nothing has to change, exactly as we agreed. It feels like relief, even if there is still that stinging pain the back of it all when I think about it being over, the longing that I know will linger.

But it will fade, eventually. I hold on to that.

We go out to toss the ball back and forth—Danny’s summer tryouts are next week—and then to the pool. It’s harder not to think about Gabriel there, but I manage, splashing in the pool with Cecelia and Danny and talking about which museum they’d like to visit the next time we go into the city. There’s a lot of the summer left to fill with fun, and I let myself be distracted by all of their ideas and plans, filing some of them away to seriously discuss with Gabriel later.

From across the yard, somewhere in the house, I think I hear a noise. I look up sharply, startled, but I can’t see anything out of the ordinary. Gabriel has had added security here, but this time of day, they’re making rounds further off around the property. Maybe Agnes dropped something, I think, as I get out of the pool to check the time on my phone. It’s nearly lunch, and I go back to collect the kids, before whatever Agnes has made starts to get cold.

“Lunchtime!” I call out, and they scramble out of the pool, going for their towels.

There’s no indication that anything is wrong. The sun is shining. It’s a beautiful afternoon—the exact kind of day it was, on the morning of my wedding, the worst day of my life.

The worst day of my life—until I open the back door and see Agnes sitting at the table, white-faced, a burly man in black cargo pants and a t-shirt holding a gun to the back of her head. Her eyes are wide, and she mouths the word run. But it’s already too late for that. I know that all too well, as the memories come crashing back in on a suffocating wave—the sound of the church doors slamming shut, the turning of locks, the crackle of gunfire. The smells of smoke and blood. The terror of thinking that the day that my life was going to change had turned into the day that it would end, instead.

There are four more of them, scattered around the kitchen, all armed and raising their weapons to aim them at us. And one more—a man I recognize as my heart stops for a moment in my chest.

Igor Lasilov. The pakhan of the Lasilov Bratva, and once—almost my father-in-law.

He’s not holding a weapon. His men are doing enough threatening, and then some. Instead, he smiles at me, motioning the other men forward as they train their weapons on me and the children.

Next to me, I feel Danny clutch my leg. I hear Cecelia start to sob, a shuddering, choking sound that spears through me. And in that moment, I know I’ve never known anger like I feel right then. It eclipses every other emotion, every ounce of fear I might have felt.

“What do you want?” My voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere else—some one else, as I gently steer the children behind me. My hands are shaking, but I try to stay steady. They need me right now, and I don’t want to fail them. Whatever happens to me, their safety is the most important thing.

“Sit down.” Igor ignores my question. “All three of you, sit down.”

“What do you want?” I repeat it, amazed that my voice doesn’t tremble. Progress. I would laugh, if I weren’t so terrified. So fucking angry.

His smile thins. “Sit. Down.”

“Bella?” Cecelia’s voice is small, shaking. I clench my teeth, turning to look at her.

“It’s okay,” I say softly. “Let’s just sit down.”

“Good.” Igor steps closer to the table, as I get Danny and Cecelia sitting, and then turn back to look at him. “When will Mr. Esposito be home?”

I hear Agnes’ sharp intake of breath. Her gaze flicks to the window, and I know she’s looking for Aldo, hoping that he doesn’t walk in on this scene. That he won’t become part of this, too—or that he might see, and think to alert Gabriel in time.

“It will be a while,” I tell Igor, my voice still flat. I sink down into a chair, still keeping myself between him and the children.

“Then we’ll wait.” Igor’s smile never leaves his lips. “Patrik, stay here with me. And you, Marc. The rest of you, head out to look for Mr. Esposito’s security. Don’t let them get back to the house alive.”

Cecelia lets out a wail, and I turn quickly, wrapping my arms around her in an effort to soothe her. “Shut the brat up,” Igor snaps, and I whip back around towards him.

“They’re frightened. There are strangers with guns. What did you expect?”

He shrugs. “There’s no need to be frightened. So long as their father cooperates.”

“Cooperates with what? ” I hold Cecelia closer, and reach for Danny’s hand. “You’re mad if you think this isn’t going to frighten them.”

He chuckles, ignoring my concerns.“Oh, come now, Bella. You’re a smart girl. You should know by now. But if you don’t—” Igor’s smile drops. “Retribution, devochka . For what happened at the wedding. My son is dead. You don’t think I would let that go unpunished, do you?”

Now, it is fear that lances through me, hot and sharp, mingling with the anger until hot tears that I refuse to allow to fall, burn behind my eyes. “That has nothing to do with them,” I whisper. “If you want to punish me, then punish me . They’re not a part of this. There’s no reason to include anyone else.”

Igor laughs, a smirk on his lips. “Where’s the fun in that, dorogoy ? No, we’ll wait for Gabriel.” He sinks down into a chair at the end of the table, smiling at me, and then at Agnes, who is looking at him with murder in her eyes. “And then, we’ll all have a conversation.”

His eyes sweep the length of the table. “All six of us, once Gabriel is here.”