Gabriel
"Where are you going? It's only seven. I thought we weren't going home until later?" Riley's voice, heavy with the remnants of sleep, reaches my ears. She raises her head from the cozy fortress of blankets and pillows that surround her. It's early on a Sunday morning, and she's still cocooned in the luxurious embrace of our New York hotel suite.
I'm awake and ready to start my day.
"I'm going to have breakfast with my sister, remember?" I reach for the card key. "I figured you'd want to sleep in or order room service here. Relax a bit before we fly back to Florida."
My intention is to have a private conversation with my sister, away from prying eyes and questioning glances. That's why I chose not to include Riley in my morning plans. Besides, I sense that Riley isn't entirely sure what to make of Mia. My sister is an acquired taste, and I'm not certain if Riley has developed the palate to appreciate that unique flavor just yet.
"Oh, right. I forgot." Riley rolls over, her back now facing me as she sinks into the duvet. A fleeting moment of hesitation lingers in the air, urging me to question my next move. Should I say goodbye with a kiss? In the past, it would have been an instinctive act, devoid of any doubt, as easy as breathing air.
But after the strange turn our weekend has taken here in New York, I find myself grappling with uncertainty. Finally, I succumb to the irresistible pull, unable to resist the sight of her. She's like a sleepy angel with tangled blonde hair amidst the tousled bedding.
"Bye, sweetie," she whispers, as my lips brush her temple. "Mmm, you smell so good."
I press a gentle kiss to her bare shoulder, feeling the urge to crawl back into bed with her fuck her until we have to leave. Riley seems to sense my unspoken desire, shifting her body so that she lies on her back, her chest exposed and vulnerable. Her nipples, like teasing peaks, taunt me.
I yield to temptation, lowering my head to enclose my lips around one taut bud. She inhales sharply, her back arching in response. "Gabriel, don't start something you can't finish."
Reluctantly, I release her nipple, my gaze meeting hers. In the past, a smirk or a witty remark would have effortlessly escaped my lips. But ever since our conversation the other night, I find myself uncertain of how to communicate with her. Yeah, I'm still seething over that discussion. How can she not comprehend the depth of my feelings, my unwavering devotion, my sole desire to keep her safe?
"You're right," I admit, gently drawing the duvet to cover her gorgeous tits. "I shouldn't tease you. Besides, I really need to get going. See you in a few hours."
As I step toward the doorway, Riley sits up, her voice filled with unspoken vulnerability. "Gabriel?"
I pause, my hand resting on the doorknob. "Yes?" I turn, granting her my full attention.
"Where are you going? Just so I know. In case... well, you know." Her voice quivers, as if she's going to burst into tears.
In that moment, my anger recedes, eclipsed by the understanding of the trauma she's endured in recent weeks. I can't fault her for that.
"I'll be downstairs, in the restaurant. I'm not leaving the building. One bodyguard will come with me, while the other will stay here for you."
She nods, biting her lip, a flicker of anxiety dancing in her eyes. "Okay. Have fun."
I walk out, descending in the elevator until I find my sister in the back of the restaurant. She's already ordered a carafe of coffee, thank fuck. I probably need an IV to get me going. The restaurant is bustling, because obviously everyone here is clamoring to spend forty bucks on a bagel and lox.
"Good morning," she greets me, rising from her seat as we exchange a quick embrace.
We settle into our chairs, and a frown etches its way onto her features. "Is it a good morning? You seem a little... off."
My sister possesses an innate ability to read my expressions, deciphering them with the expertise of a seasoned poker player in the midst of a high-stakes tournament.
"I'm fine," I dismiss, unfurling my napkin with measured precision.
She shakes her head. "Is it Riley?"
I pour myself a cup of coffee. "What are your thoughts on her? Be honest."
Mia takes a sip, her eyes fixed on an invisible spot somewhere over my left shoulder. "I think she's lovely. Intelligent, beautiful, accomplished. Perhaps the most interesting woman you've ever been involved with. But I sense she fails to comprehend the depth of your feelings. However, she does grasp the danger that comes with being in a relationship with you. And that, Gabe, might prove to be a major obstacle."
A sigh escapes me. My sister's perceptive insight, as always, hits the mark. "Well, shit."
Her shrug conveys a mix of understanding and resignation. "I know you don't wanna hear this, but the best course of action would be to talk with her. Let her fully grasp the limits of your affection. Or, in your case, the lack thereof. Emphasize that your ultimate desire is to protect her."
"Easy for you to say." Mia's husband, Rocco, occupies a high-ranking position within the New York mafia, his family connected to ours by generations of invisible familial threads.
"I'll admit, Rocco and I didn't have this particular conversation. However, we faced other obstacles. He feared that you and Dad wouldn't be able to keep me safe." She grins. "We had a come to Jesus meeting about that."
I roll my eyes, my skepticism seeping through. Of course he would say that. New Yorkers always perceive outsiders as incapable and inept."
Mia smirks. She knows I'm right. "The point is, Riley needs to understand where your heart is coming from if there's any chance of making this work. And if that doesn't work... well, then maybe it wasn't meant to be. But at least you tried. That should count for something."
A server appears and takes our order. Mia selects an egg white frittata, but I'm going all out with lemon ricotta pancakes. I half expect her to make fun of me, but instead, she leans forward with a serious expression.
"Are we done talking about Riley? Because I have something to tell you."
I lift a shoulder. "Yeah, I guess. Sorry to burden you with my relationship drama."
She snorts softly. "Please. I love talking about your relationship drama."
"Yeah, right." I grin. "So what do you have to tell me? Am I going to be an uncle again?"
Mia laughs, shaking her head. "No, not yet." She glances away for a moment before returning her gaze to me. Her eyes are unusually soft and I know something is up.
Before I can ask what, the server reappears with our food and we pause our conversation to focus on eating. The pancakes are fluffy and light, a perfect combination of sweet and tart that melts in my mouth.
"Riley would love these," I say without thinking, and Mia lifts an eyebrow.
I finish one pancake and wave the waiter down for more water when I turn to my sister. "Tell me. What's up? Why all the secrecy?"
Mia puts her fork down. "It's Dad."
My mouth goes dry and I set down my glass. "What about him?"
Mia takes a deep breath, her eyes shining with tears. "He's being released early. His good behavior earned him a reduced sentence. He'll be out next week."
For once, I'm truly shocked. My jaw hangs open. I'm unable to form words. It's as if the news is so unexpected, I can't fully process what my sister said.
"What... why? When did you hear? Wh..." I shake my head, trying to collect my thoughts. Dad's been in prison for five years now. He and his attorney must have pulled some strings.
"I heard from the Florida Parole Board. An email. It was sent two weeks ago, but I don't usually use that email account so I just saw it this morning."
I shut my eyes and rub my temple. "Mia. Christ. You're his emergency contact so you need to be on top of that shit."
"Well, I thought he wasn't getting out for another ten or fifteen years, if ever," she snaps.
My eyes snap open, locked on my sister's gaze. "We all thought that. Where's he going when he gets out?" Please say New York...
"The parole board needs him to stay in Florida upon his release." Mia leans back and folds her arms.
"Oh, Christ." Anxiety coils inside me, and I nervously fold my napkin into a tight rectangle. "No. Absolutely not."
"Gabe, he's got nowhere else to go. And you have that big house. Come on. He's only got us."
"I can't. You know I can't coexist under the same roof as him."
"Oh, please. You can. You two are cut from the same cloth."
I shake my head. "Dad and I have said all we need to each other."
She bursts out laughing. "Dad said the same thing when I talked to him."
"When did you talk to him?" Mia's full of fucking surprises.
"This morning, before I left home. He said he'd rather come to New York."
"Well, we agree on that at least." So much for enjoying the rest of my breakfast.
"You're both going to have to suck it up because the Florida parole board is making him stay there. Do you want our father to live in a halfway house?"
"If that's what it takes." I lean back in my chair.
Mia shakes her head. "You're unbelievable. Dad took the fall for you and you won't even allow him at your house? Which is technically his house because it was his father's home?"
I rub my jaw. Yes, it's true that I killed a man and Dad admitted to the crime so I wouldn't go to prison. It was Dad's decision, not mine. It wasn't just any man, either.
It had been a made guy from another family. He deserved it after screwing us out of ten million bucks, but I was willing to overlook it for a payment plan with hefty interest. Then I discovered the guy was not only screwing around on his wife, but with underage girls.
Soon after that, I discovered the human trafficking. And so, I shot the bastard. This was a decade ago, and Dad had gone ballistic when he'd found out what I did. Made men were off limits, the other family would kill me, I had more to live for than he did, blah blah.
He turned himself in and took the fall. He was right in that the other family went easy on him. They'd cut off his pinky in prison, but beyond that, he suffered no other physical consequences. The last time I'd talked with him, during a visit in prison three years ago, he insisted it would've been far worse for me.
"I still think I could've beat that charge. They had no evidence connecting me to that situation. Dad did that to make himself a martyr. To me and to the Famiglia." Now I'm pissed. "If Dad stays with me, he'll be manipulative at best. You know it."
That's the thing about Dad. He makes every situation more complex and dramatic than it needs to be. I love the guy, but I'll be the first to admit that my life is far easier with him absent.
"I know. But he's our father, Gabe. You live all alone in that big house. Please?"
I shake my head and don't say a word. "Plus the guilt, Mia. I have so much fucking guilt about Dad taking the fall for something I did."
"You're going to have to take that up with him. Sounds like you have a lot of difficult conversations on the horizon, between Dad and Riley." She picks up her fork and spears a strawberry. "You'll handle it well. You always do."
As Mia's words hang in the air, a heavy silence settles over the table.
The weight of my impending reunion with Dad, along with the uncertainty of my situation with Riley, looms ominously over my life. I stab another forkful of food.
The taste of the once-delectable pancakes turns bitter in my mouth, mirroring the bitter reality I face the second I leave this restaurant.