His Mafia Queen

His Protective Instincts

"Excellent."

We talk about wedding stuff for a few minutes, in an attempt to change the subject, but the conversation is muted and tense.

"I'm going to go," I finally say, my tone glum. "Gabriel's in his office downtown today, so I'm going to stop by there now."

"I'm glad. Listen, it's going to be okay. I'd hug you, but I have paint all over."

I finally crack a grin. "It looks amazing in here, honestly. Is that going to be an accent wall?"

Cath explains her vision for the space. "I'm getting ready for a new exhibit. An artist from the Dominican Republic, she's incredible."

"Can't wait. I'll put something in the paper!"

We say goodbye and although she boosted my mood there for a few minutes, dread has settled into my stomach as I drive to Gabriel's office.

# # #

The elevator doors slide open with a soft ping, and I step into the polished foyer of Gabriel's office.

It's an urban oasis amid the bustling energy of downtown Tampa. The walls, a serene shade of dove grey, are adorned with abstract art pieces. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the cityscape.

Andre's desk sits to the right, a temple to orderliness amidst the controlled chaos of Gabriel's world. His surprised smile greets me as I stride in, the usual calm of this place disrupted by my uncommon presence. "Hey, what brings you here today?" he asks, a hint of confusion in his voice.

"I need to see Gabriel. It's urgent." My words are sharper than usual.

Andre's eyes widen with concern. "Of course. Let me check if he's on the phone. You know, I also have to talk to you about the engagement par—"

"Sorry, Andre, I don't care if he is." My tone cuts through, and without waiting for permission, I power past him and push open the door to Gabriel's office. I'm Gabriel's fiancée, and if I can't barge in on him because I have a stalker, when can I?

He's on the phone when I step in, and his face lights up when he sees me. He beckons for me as he swivels his chair to one side.

Holding out one arm, he guides me onto his lap. Instantly I feel better, protected.

Safe.

"Yes, I think five percent is best. Thanks, Alessandro. Really appreciate this. We'll make it work." Pause. "And we will take you up on that. Riley and I haven't been to Miami in a while and we'd love to see you and Gia. Okay."

He listens for a bit while rubbing my back. I take in his office, which is so... corporate. It's exactly the opposite of what I think a mafioso's work space should be.

It's a fusion of modernity and warmth, with sleek furnishings juxtaposed against the softness of plush rugs and sleek bookshelves lining the walls. A large desk commands the center of the room, meticulously organized yet bearing the traces of a busy mind.

Scattered papers hint at ongoing projects, and a vintage globe rests near a stack of leather-bound journals. The view from his window is probably the best in the city, a sprawling vista of Tampa's skyline and the bay beyond.

"Yes, my father's doing well. Thank you. You know how he is." Gabriel's chuckle sounds brittle. "Oh really? Orlando? Huh. I'll look into it. Interesting. Ciao ciao."

Gabriel hangs up.

"This is quite a pleasant surprise," he murmurs, nuzzling my neck. His hand begins to slide under my dress. "Especially when you look so fucking sexy in this dress. What lingerie are you wearing today?"

Normally I am eager to fuck when Gabriel's like this (and he's almost always horny when I'm around). But I jump up, not wanting to encourage that particular situation right now. "I'm sorry to bust in on you like this."

"You never have to apologize for coming here. You're always welcome. What's going on? Do you want to get lunch?"

He frowns, probably because by now I'm pacing and wringing my hands nervously.

"I have something really important to tell you," I blurt, trying to gather the courage I need for this conversation. Gabriel's expression morphs to one of concern. He stands, walking over to gently take my hands in his.

"What is it, babe? You know you can tell me anything." His voice radiates a soothing calm that makes me feel safe, even as anxiety courses through me. I take a deep breath.

"Do you remember me telling you about Beckett? The guy I briefly dated when we were broken up?" Gabriel's jaw tightens and he gives a curt nod.

"Well..." My voice falters. "He showed up at my office today. With flowers. And he was acting really strange, standing by my desk, leering at me and my engagement ring."

Gabriel's grip on my hands tightens. His eyes flash with anger.

"And, uh, he showed up the other night when Cath and I were having drinks."

"Why didn't you tell me that?"

I lick my lips. As expected, Gabriel looks furious. "I didn't think anything of it. We were at the most popular bar in town, a few blocks from Beckett's bookstore. But..."

"What. Else." Gabriel's tone is one I've never heard before, and it's frightening.

"He's texted a few times and I've gotten a number of hangup calls."

Gabriel drops my hands and he walks toward the window. He stares out at it for a minute. My heart is in my throat while I wait for him to respond.

"This guy's a fucking problem, and I'm going to have to have a word with him."

"Please don't do anything violent," I murmur.

Gabriel turns, and the grin on his face is positively evil. "I'm afraid Beckett has fucked with the wrong woman, amore mio."

As his intense gaze pierces my soul, I finally, fully, realize the depth of his protective instincts.

It's an unexpected, unsettling comfort in the face of danger.