Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Anthony
The city shimmered behind the marina like it was trying to outshine its own reflection. The buildings along the Coconut Grove skyline had begun to glow in layers—orange-tinted windows, soft rooftop lights, and a few flickers of neon far in the distance. Across the deck, the water lapped against the hull of the yacht with the kind of rhythm that made you believe, even if only for a second, that everything was calm.
Gabrielle leaned into me, her head resting lightly against my shoulder, her knees curled up between us on the lounger. The stem of her wineglass dangled from her fingers, still almost full. Mine was empty. I didn’t remember finishing it, only that she’d passed hers to me after two sips, murmuring something about not feeling like drinking tonight.
I hadn’t pressed. Not yet.
The breeze off the bay had cooled since sundown, lifting the hem of Gabrielle’s sundress and drawing goosebumps across her bare arms. I pulled the throw blanket higher around her legs and wrapped my arm more tightly around her.
Juliette sat across from us on the smaller settee, arms crossed and a pointed look on her face.
“This is so unfair,” she groaned, teeth chattering just enough to be dramatic. “You’ve got someone to keep you warm, and I’ve got... windburn.”
Gabrielle snorted softly against my chest, and I felt the vibration of it, a low hum that settled somewhere beneath my ribs.
“You could’ve brought a sweater,” I offered.
Juliette raised her brows. “I was lured here with promises of wine, fresh shrimp, and zero judgment.”
“Two out of three,” Gabrielle said, her voice light and tired, “is still above average.”
We all laughed, even if it was quiet. The kind of laugh that belonged to people who were holding onto normal for as long as they could.
I kissed Gabrielle’s temple, just a brush of my lips against her hairline, and felt her settle deeper into me. Her body was warm, but her fingers around the wineglass were cold. I wanted to ask if she was okay, but something told me she’d say yes even if she wasn’t.
So, I let it go—for now.
The world had given us this one soft hour. I wasn’t going to be the one to shatter it.
The laughter faded the way warmth does when the sun slips behind the skyline—slow, almost imperceptible, until you realize you’re cold.
Juliette pulled the blanket tighter around herself, shifting in her seat. Gabrielle eased upright just slightly, enough for me to feel her spine press gently into my side. Her body was still tucked into mine, but her mind had already moved on.
I felt it, too.
“We can’t stay off-grid forever,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Damian’s yacht buys us time, not anonymity.”
Juliette gave me a sidelong look. “How long do you think before he figures it out?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. But if he’s already been near your apartment, he’s watching something. Or someone.”
Gabrielle’s wineglass now sat untouched on the deck side table. Her fingers played with the corner of the blanket. Her eyes were focused somewhere past the marina lights. “What if he reaches out with the painting?” she asked. “Says he wants to show it to me—or worse, locks it in a vault at the museum or starts shopping it around before we can verify anything?”
Juliette let out a soft curse under her breath.
“That’s one scenario,” I said. “Another is Louisa backing out. She’s already nervous.”
“She has every right to be,” Juliette murmured. “But if she does…”
We didn’t finish the sentence. We didn’t have to.
“And what if it’s not what he thinks it is?” I added. “What if the painting isn’t worth the risk he’s taking?”
Gabrielle exhaled through her nose, sharp and frustrated. “Honestly? I’m not convinced Curtain knows anything about art. He probably accepted it as payment from someone who owed him and assumed it was valuable because it looked old and expensive.”
“That sounds… exactly right,” Juliette added.
I nodded slowly, the possibility settling like a stone in my gut. “So, he could panic if the truth came out. Act out. Especially if he thinks someone’s been playing him.”
“We don’t poke the bear,” Gabrielle said, more firmly now. “Not yet. Not unless we have to.”
I looked over at her, the lines of fatigue around her eyes clearer in the soft light. She hadn’t slept well the night before. Neither had I.
“So we keep going,” she said. “You’ve ‘come back from Dallas.’ I’m ‘feeling better.’ We show up at the gallery, and we work like everything’s normal.”
Juliette raised her glass. “Just a duo of boring professionals, hard at work on restitution cases.”
“Exactly,” Gabrielle said. “We wait for Curtain to come to us.”
I wrapped my arm back around her waist and pulled her gently against me again. I didn’t say what I was thinking—that this whole plan felt like building a house on wet sand.
But it was the only plan we had. And for now, we were working our plan.
The conversation faded again, and the quiet settled in like a soft blanket around the three of us. Below, the bay rocked gently against the yacht, casting silver ribbons across the dark water as the city lights shimmered in long, broken lines. The breeze had mellowed, just a whisper now, warm with a trace of salt and something sweet—maybe honeysuckle, maybe a memory.
Gabrielle leaned into me again, her thigh brushing mine, her skin bare and warm under the hem of her sundress. I turned my head, letting my lips find the soft curve where her neck met her shoulder. Just a press at first. Then a kiss. Then another.
She sighed, her hand sliding over my forearm where it rested across her stomach. Her body arched slightly into mine. I trailed my fingers along her outer thigh, slipping just beneath the edge of her dress.
Juliette groaned—loudly. “Oh my God. Seriously? This is what I get for not having a plus-one?”
I didn’t stop kissing Gabrielle, but I grinned against her skin.
“Unfair,” Juliette went on. “I’m over here wrapped in a throw blanket like a sad Victorian ghost, and you two are about to reenact a steamy romance right here in front of me.”
I pulled back just enough to glance at her and said, “Nope.”
Then I stood, scooping Gabrielle up into my arms with zero warning. She gave a surprised laugh, her arms looping around my neck, legs swinging as I started toward the stairs.
“I can walk, you know,” she whispered, smiling.
“I like the view from here better.”
Juliette raised her glass and called after us, “You two are disgusting.”
“You’re just jealous,” Gabrielle answered, laughing.
Juliette rolled her eyes, but I caught the smirk just before we disappeared down the stairs.
Behind us, I heard her mutter, “Fine. More wine for me,” and the soft pad of her footsteps, heading toward the guest cabin.
By the time we reached the suite, Gabrielle’s breath was already shallow against my neck, and my pulse was keeping pace.
Whatever tomorrow brought, we still had tonight.
The lighting in the master suite was warm—muted. The round bed looked like it belonged in a movie that should’ve come with a parental advisory. Above it, a mirror stretched across the ceiling, reflecting just enough to feel decadent without being too ridiculous.
Gabrielle laughed as I carried her through the doorway and dropped her onto the mattress, her hair spilling across the pillows. She bounced lightly and pulled me down with her, her arms still looped around my neck.
“I cannot believe this is real,” she whispered.
I kissed her before I could answer. Just a slow press of my mouth against hers, my hand sliding beneath her back to draw her closer. She responded immediately, the tension from the day melting off her shoulders as her fingers threaded through my hair.
I rolled to my side, pulling her with me until we were tangled together, our legs interwoven, her dress bunching beneath my palm.
“You know I’m not going anywhere,” I murmured against her lips. “Not tonight. Not tomorrow. I’m in this with you, Gabrielle. I’m falling in love with you.”
Her breath hitched just slightly. “I know. I feel the same.”
I cupped her face and brushed my thumb across her cheek. But just as I leaned in, she stiffened. Her fingers gripped my arm, and her body went still.
“Gabrielle?” I pulled back, heart thudding with a different kind of urgency now.
She blinked, her lips parted, face suddenly pale.
“I—I think I’m dizzy,” she said, pressing a hand to her forehead.
I sat up instantly. “It might be the motion of the yacht. Let me?—”
“No,” she cut in, already pushing herself away from me. “No, it’s not that.”
She stumbled to her feet, one hand catching the edge of the bed for balance. Then she bolted for the bathroom, her bare feet slapping softly against the teak floor.
I followed on instinct, catching the door just before it shut. The sound of retching came almost immediately, sharp and painful.
“Gabrielle?” I called gently, not opening the door. “Hey… I’m right here.”
Another round of vomiting answered me. I clenched my fists uselessly at my sides.
This wasn’t motion sickness. It wasn’t too much wine—she’d only taken a few sips.
Something was wrong.
And suddenly, I didn’t care about the yacht, or the gallery, or Curtain, or anything else that existed outside this door.
I just needed her to be okay, so I let myself in.
Gabrielle was leaning against the cool tile of the bathroom wall, eyes closed, her breathing shallow and uneven. I knelt beside her, one hand supporting her back while the other reached for a towel to dampen under the faucet. When I pressed it gently to her forehead, she flinched at first, then let out a soft, broken sigh.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not even opening her eyes. “I don’t know what that was.”
“It’s okay,” I said quietly. “Just breathe. You’re okay.”
Her skin was clammy, her hair sticking to her temples. I wanted to pick her up and fix everything, carry her back to the world where none of this was happening. But all I could do was hold her up and be there.
After a moment, she opened her eyes, glassy and disoriented. “Can you get Juliette?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
I hesitated only long enough to make sure she could sit upright against the vanity, then jogged barefoot down the narrow corridor to Juliette’s cabin. She opened the door on the first knock, her gaze instantly sharpening when she saw my face.
“She’s sick,” I said. “She asked for you.”
Juliette didn’t ask questions. She was already moving past me before I finished the sentence.
Back in the bathroom, she crouched in front of Gabrielle, her voice dropping into that familiar, firm rhythm of someone who had done this before. She pulled Gabrielle’s hair back, murmured something I couldn’t hear, and helped her to her feet.
“I’ll get her some sparkling water,” Juliette said over her shoulder. “She needs to sip slowly. Small sips, Gab, okay?”
Gabrielle nodded weakly, clutching the towel I’d left behind.
I followed them both to the bed, hovering at the edge like I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I didn’t.
I’d just had her in my arms, warm and laughing and kissing me like the world outside this yacht didn’t exist. Now, she looked fragile in a way I’d never seen before. Her energy was hollowed out by something she couldn’t name yet.
Juliette returned with a glass and helped Gabrielle lean against the headboard, steadying her hand as she took her first tentative sip.
Then Juliette turned to me.
“Give us a few minutes?” she asked gently.
I looked at Gabrielle. Her eyes found mine, soft and apologetic but not afraid.
“Okay,” I said quietly.
I brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her temple.
“I’ll be right outside.”
She nodded.
I stepped out of the room and closed the door softly behind me, the latch clicking into place like punctuation at the end of a sentence neither of us had meant to write.
Maybe it was something she ate.
But as I stood in the hallway staring at the closed door, the unease crawling under my skin told me this was something else entirely.