His Mafia Queen

Uncertainty

Riley

The minute our suite door closes, I kick off my stupid flats and leave them in the corner. The shoes, while cute and new, hadn't been as great for walking as I'd hoped. My left heel sports a blister that would make a Marine weep.

I hobble over to the sofa and fling myself down on my back. A sigh leaks from my mouth and I shut my eyes. It's ten o'clock, we're in New York, and I'm absolutely beat from this fucked-up day. Under any normal circumstances, I'd want to go to a club, drink at a bar, or just walk around to absorb the energy of the city.

Now all I want is to take off my bra and go to bed.

After the shooting, Mia and I had waited in the dank bar for Gabriel and Mia's husband Rocco. (He's also Italian, of course). When Gabriel arrived, he was pissed that we'd been in the crossfire, and doubly pissed that I was drinking alcohol since I'm still on antibiotics.

We'd gone from there to dinner, which stretched for hours. Years. An eternity. I think the thing that eroded my mood was the fact that Mia seemed completely unfazed that we'd narrowly averted death.

Combined with Gabriel's constant concern, it was like emotional whiplash.

"That meal was great, wasn't it?" Gabriel says, easing into a chair and unlacing his shoes. "The osso busco was perfection."

I grunt in response, my hand covering my eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asks. "You got real quiet there at the end."

I remove my hand and open my eyes. "I dunno. Getting shot at does that to a person. Makes their life flash before their eyes, PTSD, you know. The works." It's impossible to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

Gabriel sighs and moves to sit on the edge of the sofa, near my waist. "But the shooting wasn't targeting you. It was the store clerk."

Mia's husband Rocco had found out through a cop buddy that the shooting was an estranged boyfriend of the store's saleswoman. "Like that makes me feel any better."

"I know. It was a lot. I'm sorry." Gabriel leans down to kiss me.

I wrap my arms around him. "I need a hug."

"Mmmm. I'll gladly give you a hug." He settles half on top of me, scooping me in his arms.

"Why is it I feel so safe with you when I'm in your arms, but every other moment I feel like my life is at risk?" I murmur into his ear.

He presses his nose into my neck. When he speaks, his voice is muffled against my skin. "Do you really feel that way?"

"Sometimes. I hate it."

Gabriel's silent for a while. After a few minutes, he sits up and stares down at me while brushing the hair away from my face. "I need you to be honest with me about something."

I don't speak for a beat. The air in the luxury hotel suite is silent but for the distant whisper of the air conditioner. "Okay," I finally say.

"Do you think this relationship is good for you?"

I hesitate for a second, worried about what message that pause will send. "I...don't...know," I eventually say. The words come out like molasses. Excruciatingly slow.

His intense gaze pierces into me, and I'm caught in its intensity, my feelings and breath trapped in my throat.

"I wish I could respond differently," I finally manage to utter, my voice shaky. "I want this relationship to succeed because I love you. I love being with you. Not just in bed. You make me laugh and you're smart, and..."