Gabriel
Andre trails behind me as we navigate through the house, bombarding me with question after question. The last thing I want to do is talk. To anyone.
"Sir, the probation officer assigned to your father's case is available for a meeting tomorrow. That means," he taps on his tablet, "you'll have to reschedule the closing on the shopping mall. Additionally, you have a call with Alessandro at three. We might have to push that back."
"Fine." Restless, I feel like a captive creature in this suffocating mansion.
"Also, it's the anniversary of your grandfather's passing. Do you still want flowers for his gravesite?"
"Yes."
"Sir, can you please stop for a moment? I can't talk, walk, and type at the same time."
I pause, taking a long, deep breath. "Andre, I have no clue what the hell I'm doing. My plan is to sit outside and drown myself in liquor, and you're more than welcome to join me."
Andre stops, studying my face. He knows me better than anyone else and can sense that today isn't my best day. "I have some spreadsheets to work on in the office. Perhaps it would be best if I focus on those."
I nod and resume my steps. After a day filled with endless meetings, I'm utterly drained.
"One more thing, sir?"
"Save it for tomorrow. Whatever it is, it can wait until then." Waving my hand dismissively, I make my way to the outdoor lounge area. Helping myself to a glass of Scotch, I sink into the plush cushions of the rattan sofa and gaze at the pool. The darkness envelopes the surroundings, and the deafening chorus of cicadas fills the air.
I have so much on my mind. My father, above all. He's due to be released from prison in a week. Then there's the constant challenge of managing the family business. But I can't shake the conversation I had with Riley in New York. It's etched into my mind, and every time I recall it, I feel seared.
"Do you think this relationship is good for you?"
"I...don't...know," she had said.
The realization that our relationship may not be beneficial for Riley, that it might not be positive or perfect, tears me apart. With other women, their physical satisfaction mattered. And yes, I wanted them to live their best lives so I often contributed to their financial well-being, especially if they or their families were in need.
But with Riley? I want her to feel extraordinary. Like a queen. Like the sun and the moon rise and set around her existence.
Yet, the one thing I cannot sacrifice is my family's business. Once you're part of the Mafia, it's nearly impossible to escape its grasp.
I take a sip of my Scotch and sprawl on the sofa. What am I going to do about Riley? Can we have a healthy relationship despite my ties to the Mafia?
Deep down, I know the answer to that question. And as much as I detest it, I also know what I must do. It's essential if I don't want my heart broken.
# # #
Riley
When I let myself into Gabriel's house, the place is silent. Eerily so. I expect Reese to come pitter-pattering in on his little dog feet, but then I remember it's the night he spends with the housekeeper so she can take him for grooming early in the morning.
Which means it's likely that it's only Gabriel and me here in the house. Well, and the bodyguards. But they're almost invisible, flitting around the property and making sure everything's secure.
I glance down the hall toward the office and see a light on inside. He's still working, at this hour? It's close to eleven at night. Kicking off my heels and leaving them on a mat near the door, I push a breath out of my nose and march toward the office. As I get closer, it becomes apparent that Gabriel's not in there, because someone's whistling.
Gabriel never whistles.
I poke my head inside. Andre's there, sitting on the leather sofa. Papers are strewn across the coffee table.
"Hey," I say.
He looks up with a frown. "Oh, hi. You okay?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Well, Gabriel's in a mood. I was wondering if you had a fight or something."
Moments of our weird weekend in New York flash through my brain. "No. We didn't." I like Andre, but I'm not going to confide in him about my relationship issues.
"Well, maybe it's because of his father, then." He reaches for a paper. "It's got to be a shock that he's getting out of prison so soon. None of us expected Don Greco to be released in this decade. And especially not for good behavior."
Andre chuckles, as if he's relishing a private joke.
I open my mouth, then close it. His father's getting out of prison? Why don't I know about this? "Yeah," I say slowly.
Andre shakes his head. "And the fact that the state's making him live in Florida, well, I doubt if Gabriel anticipated that. He's going to have to move in here. That's going to really be a bummer for Gabriel, since he likes his solitude. You're the only one he can tolerate for any long periods of time, and Gabriel and his father don't always get along. There's no other..."
Probably because my eyes are bugging and I'm gaping, Andre stops talking.
"Wait. You didn't know? You weren't aware that his Dad's about to be a free man?"
I shake my head.
"Oh, shit." He sucks in a breath. "Please don't tell him that I said anything, okay?"
I don't answer because the anger is rising in my chest and I need to see Gabriel, now. "Where is he?"
Andre must sense my rage. "Maybe it's nothing, maybe there's no problem, maybe—"
"Where. Is. Gabriel."
"Outdoors, by the pool. I think. That's where he was headed about an hour ago."
"Thanks." I stomp out, determined to find out what's going on. My heels clack against the polished stone floors, and I yank open the door to the outside.
I grow more and more pissed as I search for Gabriel. Finally, I find him in the outdoor bar area. He's lying on the lounger, wearing a T-shirt and a pair of shorts.
I sink into a chair opposite him.
"Hey. How's Cath? Have you eaten?" He asks this like everything's normal. When it definitely isn't.
I lick my lips, uneasy. It registers that he hasn't gotten up to kiss me.
"When were you going to tell me that your father is getting out of prison?"
# # #
Gabriel
"Oh, fuck, Riley," I can't help but let my head fall back. "Who told you that?"
"That doesn't matter. Why the hell didn't you say anything to me?"
I shift my gaze, locking eyes with her. God, she looks devastatingly beautiful tonight in that blue dress, her legs bare and tempting. Every fiber of my being aches to pull her into my arms, to bury my face in her golden hair. I'll bet it smells like jasmine and sunshine and shampoo. It smells like her, the one thing I can never truly have.
The one thing I don't deserve.
Pulling her into my arms, well, that's not the way things are tonight. Or any other night. "I found out just yesterday. My sister got a call from the prison warden, informing her that our father's getting released. He was supposed to stay with her, but now he has to remain in the state for his probation requirements."
"I see." She taps her fingers against the arm of the rattan chair. "So you've known since yesterday and you didn't think to let me in on it?"
"So much is uncertain right now. I have a meeting with his parole officer tomorrow to sort out the details of his release." My chest tightens at the thought, like a knife twisting in my heart. I'm going to have to face the man who took the fall for my crime.
She nods, slow and deliberate. "That's why you didn't tell me? Because there's so much 'uncertainty'?" She smirks and throws up her fingers, mocking my words with air quotes.
"Partly, yes. And because it's not your burden to bear." It tears me apart to play this role, but I know it's what I must do.
Her body recoils, as though I've struck her. "Oh. I see. I thought, as your girlfriend, your partner, you'd want me to know important things like this."
"It's complicated."
"No shit." She crosses her arms, a barricade of defense. "Is that why you've been distant for the past day or so? You hardly said a word when we were on our way back from New York."
I need something strong to brace myself for what comes next. I rise, heading for the bar. "Drink?"
"No."
She watches as I pour myself another shot of Scotch. I take a long, burning gulp before settling back across from her. "You said something in New York that's been haunting me."
"What did I say?" Her flared nostrils give away her anger.
"You said you weren't sure if this relationship is good for you."
She rolls her eyes and releases a heavy sigh. "Gabriel, I had just been through a damn drive-by shooting. I thought it had something to do with you, or your family. I was scared. Upset."
"I know. But I've done a lot of soul-searching, and..." My voice trails off. Can I really do this?
I have to. It's for her own damn good. Eventually, she'll grow tired of being the girlfriend of a man entrenched in the mafia. If we were to get married, she'd resent this godforsaken lifestyle. She'd resent me. And even if she didn't, I'm not sure I can confess to her that I allowed my father to take the fall for a murder I committed.
If I don't tell her, my father certainly will.
I can't bear that burden. I'm strong, but not that strong. For the first time, I'm ashamed of who I am. What I am. Where I came from.
"And?"
"And I think we need to take a step back. A break."
# # #
Riley
Everything is still. My breathing, Gabriel's face, the very air that surrounds us.
"What?" I whisper.
His gaze falls to his cocktail glass. "I've been doing a lot of thinking."
"And you don't think you love me anymore?"
He shakes his head. "I love you too much. Love you way too much to put you through the insanity that is my father. Love you too much to force you into a lifestyle that you don't want, and aren't cut out for."
I glance around, at the glowing blue pool, and at the giant mansion. My mouth is suddenly dry, and I struggle to swallow. What should I do now? Beg him to stay with me? Scream out of pure frustration? Walk over and slap his face?
I want to do all three.
But I can't move a muscle. I'm frozen from shock.
"You can keep the car and anything I've given you, of course. And if you'd like to stay here tonight, that's fine. I understand why you wouldn't want to drive at this hour."
He's speaking as if he's summarizing a business deal. My mouth hangs open.
"I'll also provide security for you as long as this Russia situation is ongoing. If you'd rather live in a condo with security, I can move you somewhere downtown in one of the buildings I own. I'd prefer that, actually, because it would be easier—"
I interrupt him. "Are you breaking up with me and trying to dictate where I'm going to live? Are you for real?"
"I only want you to be safe." He can't look at me. His posture is terrible, all hunched as if he's wounded. Maybe he is, but I don't give a fuck.
I stand up, my eyes swimming with tears. "You're fucking crazy, you know that? You lead me on, tell me I'm your goddamned soul mate, and then you do this?"
He stands and takes a step toward me, imploring me with those smoldering eyes of his. "I'm sorry," he says in a hoarse voice. "This is for the best, for you."
That one statement makes me so furious that I smack him across the face. The sound is satisfying, but the sensation of my palm hitting his skin isn't. It makes me feel terrible, and tears spill from my eyes.
"Why do you think you can make decisions for me? How do you know what's best? Go to hell."
I leave a shocked Gabriel standing in his luxury backyard and stomp out, wishing I'd never come to Florida, that I'd never taken a job as a crime reporter, that I never met Gabriel Greco.
That I'd never fallen in love with him.