GABRIEL
Her hand falls from my face, and I brace myself for her next words, each syllable heavy with an unspoken weight.
"Have you..."
My gaze lingers on hers, holding my breath for what comes next, the air thick with anticipation.
"Have I what?"
"Have you killed someone since... you know what? Never mind. I don't need to know. That's your business." She shakes her head, distancing herself, unraveling her hair from its tight bun.
"Babe, I..." My hands find their way to her knees, words catching in my throat. "This is hard. I've never opened up like this to anyone."
"We don't have to." Her sigh is a gust of resolve, and she moves toward the balcony, the wind teasing her golden locks. She wears a simple, flowing dress, ethereal in pale blue. My heart aches at her beauty, the fear of losing her gnawing at me.
But honesty is my debt to her, especially if we're to walk this path together.
I join her by the railing.
"I'll answer anything."
She turns, securing her hair with a tie she always keeps handy, a cascade of blonde falling into a ponytail.
"I'm not sure I want to know."
I nod, understanding the weight of the unspoken.
"I get that."
Facing the city's skyline, she breaks the silence.
"What was it like, to take a life?"
"Riley, it's... complex. It's not a thrill or a joy. It's a darkness that lingers," I confess, heavy with the morning's burdens. "It's part of the world I've lived in."
"Your world. Not mine," she retorts sharply.
"I promised, I'll try to steer clear of such... dark paths."
She nods, turning back to meet my eyes. "I don't ever want to hear about it. Don't bring it to me, don't let anyone, not even your father, mention it. I don't want to know."
"And you shouldn't."
"Gabriel, I'm here with you. Only you. You're my beacon, the light in my life. Cheesy, I know, but it's true." She draws closer, hands circling my waist. "I don't want these thoughts, and I wish your father hadn't opened this door."
I envelop her, pressing a kiss to her hair, my heart racing from this dialogue. Curse my father for sowing these seeds. "Do you think less of me?"
She pulls away, locking eyes with me. "No."
The tension between us eases. I can feel the muscles in my shoulders relax.
"Gabriel..." Her voice holds a tinge of reluctance, her eyes seeking reassurance in mine.
I dip my head to kiss her. She tastes like coffee and smiles against my mouth.
"I need to get to work soon," she whispers.
"I know. I just wanted one more taste of you." I trace the line of her jaw.
A faint smile graces her lips. "I'll see you later. Just... be careful."
"I will. I also need to put on a shirt." Our fingers intertwine and she grins. "Thank you, Riley. For being so good, for understanding."
Her gaze softens. "You're worth it, Gabriel."
As I drive home, I replay our conversation in my mind. There's only one conclusion, something that comes to me over and over.
I don't deserve her.
When I step inside my home, I hear my father's voice in the kitchen.
"If you'd like, I can teach you how to make cannoli," Dad says.
"I'm not so sure about that, Mr. Greco. If you'll excuse me, I have some vacuuming to do." That's the voice of my housekeeper.
Oh, Christ. I know exactly what he's doing. I stride into the kitchen.
"Dad. Hey."
My father's leaning against the kitchen island, eyeing the young housekeeper like he's a cat salivating over a mouse. The housekeeper scurries out.
"See you later," he calls out.
"Dad. Please don't try to fuck the staff. I've finally gotten a team that I like and respect, and I'd like to keep them around for a while."
I pull open the fridge and grab a sports drink. What I need is a good, long workout.
"Oh, hell, son. I was just having a little fun." He takes a sip of his coffee. "Listen, I heard from a guy I know. I set up a meeting for you today."
"What?" I scowl at him. "I have things to do."
"Andre said your afternoon is clear."
Fucking Andre. He must be terrified of my father. Otherwise, why would he tell my father my schedule? I'll have a talk with him later. "What's the meeting about? Who's it with?"
"A friend is in town. Antonio Martinez. He wanted to meet with me, but I couldn't, for obvious reasons."
I stare at my father. He's got my interest now that I know who's involved. "How much are we talking?"
"Millions. Hundreds of millions."
I take a sip of the sports drink. This might be worth my time. "Do I have time to work out and shower?"
Dad chuckles. "Of course. And you're welcome. I knew this would pique your interest."
Over the next couple of hours, I work out, shower, and dress carefully in my most expensive suit and tie. As I climb into the back of my chauffeured Mercedes, there's a large part of me that feels terrible about what I'm about to do. Who I'm about to meet.
I'd promised Riley I would try to go legit. But hundreds of millions of dollars is too tempting to pass up. What I could do with that money... travel, real estate deals, charity...
Riley doesn't need to know that I'll do one final deal. And Martinez is just the man to do it with.
Never mind that if Martinez is involved, that can only mean one thing.
Cocaine.
# # #
My driver drops me off at Martinez's chosen meeting place: the city's nicest restaurant. I make my way to the bar, and as I walk, I scan the room for Martinez. Finally, I see him in a corner booth.
He's as imposing as ever, with his dark hair slicked back from his face and a tailored three-piece suit. He's Dad's age, someone Dad's known for decades. He's been an off and on presence in my life since I was little, although mostly off.
Because Martinez went to prison in his native Spain for drug trafficking. It's a surprise to even see him here in the United States, to be honest.
He looks up and catches my eye, smiling slightly. He waves me over, and we shake hands.
"Let's take this somewhere more private." He snaps his fingers and a waiter materializes. Within seconds, we're whisked to a private room, all red wallpaper and dark wood.
I take a seat across from him and a waiter hustles in to pour glasses of wine. Spanish, of course.
"It's been too long," he says. We clink glasses.
Martinez explains that he's recently procured several large quantities of cocaine from South America and needs someone to help distribute it throughout Florida quickly and quietly. He offers me an upfront fee of five million dollars if I agree to take on this venture.
"You get right to the point, Don Antonio." I swirl my wine in the glass.
"I'm not a man to mince words. But before I forget — my memory's shit these days — how's your father?"
We chat amiably about Dad. Of course, I don't tell him the truth. "He's adjusting well, I think. Already got a girlfriend."
Antonio chuckles. "Your father's a survivor. Just like me."
"They don't make 'em like you two anymore." It pays to stroke the egos of old men, I've discovered.
I sip my wine slowly while he tells me more about his proposition.
"Here," he says, opening a briefcase.
He extracts a block of coke. With a steak knife from the table, he slices the package open and offers me the knife.
I swipe my finger through the powder on the blade, then rub it into my gums. M y entire mouth goes numb.
"Wow." I'm genuinely impressed. "That's good shit."
"Yes, it is."
It certainly would be a lucrative deal if everything went according to plan, but there were also risks involved—not least of which was the chance of being caught by cops, who had recently cracked down on drug trafficking in Florida due to increased public attention about it.
On the other hand, there were very few people who had access to such large quantities of cocaine or knew how to move them without detection so successfully.
"So, have we got a deal?" Antonio says, smirking.
"I want five million up front, and five when the job's finished."
Antonio raises an eyebrow.
"I can guarantee speed and discretion." This is going to require getting Alessandro Bianchi in Miami involved, which means I need to cut him in, too.
"Fuck, you're just like your father. Four and four."
I shake my head. "Four point five million now, four point five when it's finished."
After a second, Antonio grimaces. "Deal."
We shake on it. As we finish our wine, my mind swirls with scenarios about how this could play out—all sorts of pros and cons weighed against each other.
The vision of Riley hovers in the back of my mind, her blonde hair swaying as she shakes her head no in warning.
But this could be my swan song. It's an opportunity that rarely presents itself.
Riley might be disappointed in me for taking such a risk...but if it pays off properly, then it will be worth it.
For both me and Riley.