Chapter 18
Sleep was impossible.
How do people sleep when their arm feels like it is being chewed on by a tiny, angry piranha?
I lay on top of the covers, curled into a ball, staring at the floor-to-ceiling window. The city lights of the skyline were blurry, twinkling like mocking little stars.
Throb. Throb. Throb.
My left arm was pulsing. It felt hot under my blazer.
I sniffled, wiping a stray tear from my nose. Sniff.
I checked the time on the digital clock. 11:45 PM.
Gabriel wasn't here. He was still in the living room, drinking his angry juice (whiskey) and staring at walls. He probably hated me. I was un-fun. I was un-bubbly. I waved at him instead of hugging him.
I am a bad wife. And now, I am a stabbed wife.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
My ears perked up. Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate footsteps coming down the hallway.
They stopped right outside the bedroom door.
GASPPP.
He's coming in!
Panic exploded in my chest like a confetti cannon. I scrambled off the bed.
If he sees me in my street clothes, he will ask why. If he sees the blood on my blazer sleeve, he will ask why. If he sees my puffy, red eyes, he will definitely ask why!
I sprinted (tiptoed aggressively) to the walk-in closet.
Zip!
I tore off my pink blazer. I unbuttoned my blouse with shaking fingers.
"Pajamas. Pajamas. Thick pajamas," I muttered, rummaging through the drawers.
I found them. My safety blanket.
The Hello Kitty Fleece Pajama Set (Winter Edition). It has long sleeves, a high neck, and prints of Hello Kitty holding a teddy bear. It is armor.
I pulled the top over my head. Ouch! I winced as the fabric brushed against the bandage on my left arm, but I grit my teeth.
"You are strong, Aleesha," I told myself. "You are a warrior princess."
I pulled the pants on. I looked in the full-length mirror.
My face was a disaster. I looked like a racoon that had an allergic reaction to shellfish.
I grabbed a wet wipe and scrubbed my cheeks. Rub, rub, rub. I pinched my cheeks to make them pink instead of pale. I practiced a smile.
It looked terrifying.
"Okay," I exhaled. "Natural. Be natural. Just... act like you didn't get sliced by a gangster in an alleyway."
I opened the closet door and stepped back into the bedroom.
And there he was.
Gabriel was sitting on the edge of the bed.
He had discarded his tie. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the top, exposing the hollow of his throat. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
He looked... heavy. Like he was carrying the weight of the entire Velour Noir building on his shoulders.
He heard me. He lifted his head.
His eyes locked onto mine. Obsidian. Intense. Unreadable.
He scanned me. From my Hello Kitty pajama top to my fuzzy socks.
"Hi!" I squeaked.
I forced my legs to move. Walk, Aleesha. Do the hop. Do the happy hop.
I bounced toward him, clasping my hands together (keeping my left arm tucked safely against my ribs).
"You're finally here!" I beamed. "I was just... doing my skincare! It takes a long time! The pores need attention! And then I was choosing pajamas because fashion never sleeps!"
He didn't speak. He just watched me babble. He watched my mouth move.
"And my day was... wow! So busy!" I continued, talking faster and faster. "We had ice cream! Did Sean tell you? I bought him Bubblegum flavor! He looked so cute eating it! And then I went to class! And I learned about... databases! Very boring! Just rows and columns! Like your spreadsheets!"
I stopped in front of him. I was running out of air.
Gabriel looked at me. He looked tired.
"Aleesha," he said. His voice was rough. Gravelly.
"Yes, Husband?" I smiled so hard my face hurt.
"Go to sleep," he said softly.
He turned his body, swinging his legs onto the bed. He lay down on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling. He didn't pull the covers up. He just lay there, stiff as a board.
My heart squeezed.
He looked so lonely.
I walked to the other side of the bed. I climbed in. I pulled the duvet up to my chin.
I looked at his profile. The sharp jawline. The straight nose. The long eyelashes.
He is my husband. Even if he is scary. Even if he treats me like a potted plant.
"Gabriel?" I whispered.
He didn't look at me. "What."
"I love you," I said. "Goodnight."
Gabriel flinched.
It was small, but I saw it. His shoulders tensed. His jaw clamped shut.
He turned his head slowly on the pillow to look at me. His eyes were cold again.
"Do not," he said, his voice dropping an octave, "say that to me."
I blinked. "Say what? Goodnight?"
"The other part," he said. "Do not say you love me."
"But I do!" I argued, propping myself up on my right elbow (protecting the left!). "I am your wife! It is in the vows! Well, we didn't have vows, we had a contract, but it is implied! Clause... something!"
"It is a lie," Gabriel stated. "You do not know me. You fear me. Therefore, you cannot love me. Stop saying it."
He turned his head back to the ceiling.
"It is annoying," he added.
Annoying?
My mouth fell open. My love is annoying?
I felt a flash of heat. Not the shy heat. The angry heat. The kind of heat I felt when Thomas told me to do the secretary work.
He thinks I am lying? He thinks I am annoying?
"Fine," I huffed. I flopped back onto the pillow.
I stared at the ceiling too. I crossed my arms over my chest (carefully!).
"I hate you," I declared.
Silence.
The room went deadly quiet.
Gabriel froze.
Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head back to me. His eyebrows were furrowed deeply, creating a little 'V' between them. He looked genuinely confused.
"What?" he asked.
I pouted. I puffed out my cheeks.
"Well," I explained logically. "You said I cannot say 'I love you.' You said it is annoying. So, logically, the opposite must be acceptable! If you don't want my love, you can have my hate! It is basic physics! Every action has an equal and opposite reaction!"
I glared at him. "So, I hate you, Gabriel Muratori. I hate you very much. You are a meanie."
Gabriel stared at me.
He stared at my pouting face. He stared at my Hello Kitty pajamas.
Then, he let out a short breath through his nose. He scoffed.
He rolled his eyes. He literally rolled his eyes at me!
"Ridiculous," he muttered.
He turned back to the ceiling.
"I am not ridiculous!" I whispered furiously. "I am adapting!"
"Go to sleep, Aleesha," he commanded.
"I am not sleepy!" I lied. "I am contemplating my hatred for you!"
Gabriel sighed. A long, suffering sigh.
Suddenly, he moved.
He reached out his hand. He grabbed my left wrist.
"Lie down," he said, pulling my arm to make me settle into the mattress.
He didn't pull hard. He didn't mean to hurt me. He just wanted me to stop wiggling.
But his large hand wrapped right around my forearm. Right over the bandage. Right over the cut.
He squeezed.
"AHH!"
A sharp, white-hot bolt of pain shot up my arm. I couldn't help it. I gasped and yanked my arm back, curling into myself.
"Owww," I whimpered, clutching my arm to my chest.
Freeze.
Gabriel sat up instantly.
The annoyance on his face vanished. It was replaced by something sharp. Something dangerous.
He looked at me huddled in a ball. He looked at his own hand, then at my arm.
"What was that?" he asked. His voice wasn't gravelly anymore. It was clear. Alert.
"Nothing!" I squeaked, laughing nervously. "Hehehe! Nothing! Just... a cramp! Muscle spasm! I need more bananas! Potassium deficiency!"
I tried to play it cool. I tried to uncurl.
"Go to sleep, Gabby! Goodnight!"
I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended to snore immediately. Hnnnk-shooo.
"Aleesha."
His voice was right next to my ear. He had moved closer.
"Open your eyes."
I opened one eye. Peeking.
Gabriel was looming over me. He wasn't looking at my face. He was looking at my arm.
"You flinched," he said. "I barely touched you."
"I told you!" I lied, my heart hammering against my ribs. "A robot attacked me! Today! At school! It was a capstone project gone wrong! It had pinchers! It pinched me!"
Gabriel stared at me. He looked unamused.
"A robot," he repeated flatly.
"Yes! A rogue AI! Very scary! But I defeated it! With my coding skills!"
Gabriel didn't say anything.
He reached out.
I tried to pull away, but he was faster. He caught my left wrist gently. Very, very gently.
He didn't squeeze this time. He just held my hand.
With his other hand, he traced the fleece of my sleeve. His fingers moved up my wrist... up my forearm...
He stopped. He felt it. The bulge. The thick square of gauze and medical tape hidden under the Hello Kitty fabric. His fingers froze on the lump.
My breath hitched. Hic.
Gabriel looked at the lump. Then he looked at my eyes.
His expression darkened. It was like watching a storm cloud roll in over the ocean.
"What is this?" he asked.
"Nothing!" I tried to pull my hand back. "It's... extra padding! For fashion!"
He didn't let go.
He reached for the hem of my sleeve.
"No, Gabriel, don't—"
He ignored me. Slowly, with terrifying precision, he pulled the pink fleece up.
Up... up...
Exposed.
The white bandage was stark against my skin. A little spot of red blood had seeped through the center.
Gabriel stared at it.
He stared at it like it was an alien life form. He bit his lip. Hard. I saw his jaw muscle feather. He looked at the bandage. Then he looked at my face. He looked at my puffy eyes.
"A cat," I blurted out. "It was a cat! A stray cat! I tried to pet it and it scratched me!"
Gabriel dropped my hand gently onto the bed.
"Aleesha," he said. His voice was terrifyingly calm.
"First it was a robot," he said. "Now it is a cat."
"It was a robot cat!" I insisted. "Cyber-punk kitty!"
He looked at me. He looked deep into my soul.
"What happened," he said. It wasn't a question. It was a command.
"I told you—"
"What. Happened."
He cut me off. He didn't yell. He didn't raise his voice. He just spoke with such absolute, cold authority that the lie died in my throat.
I gulped. The lump in my throat felt like a boulder.
I looked at his face. He wasn't blinking. He was waiting.
I bit my lip. It started to tremble.
"I..." my voice cracked.
"I kicked Thomas out," I whispered.
Gabriel didn't move. "Thomas."
"My groupmate," I sniffled. "He... he didn't do the work. He was lazy. He played games. So I removed him. I used my authority."
I looked down at my bandage.
"And on the way home... some guys stopped me. And Thomas was there. He was mad. He said I humiliated him."
A tear rolled down my cheek.
"He took my blazer," I cried softly. "My favorite one. And... and he had a knife. A box cutter."
Gabriel went perfectly still.
The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
"He cut you," Gabriel said. His voice sounded like ice cracking.
"Just a little!" I said quickly, waving my right hand. "It's small! It's shallow! The nurse said it's fine! Just a scratch!"
I looked up at him desperately.
"But Gabriel... you can't be mad at him. You can't punch him."
Gabriel's eyes were fixed on the blood spot on the bandage. "Why?"
"Because," I whispered, leaning in. "He said... he said his father is in the Syndicate."
Gabriel blinked. Once.
"The Syndicate," he repeated dully.
"Yes! The bad guys! The mafia!" I grabbed Gabriel's hand with my good one. "He said I am nothing compared to his father. He said it was a warning. So please... don't do anything. I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want the Syndicate to come after you!"
I squeezed his hand.
"You are just a businessman," I told him earnestly. "You do stocks and shipping. You don't know how to fight gangsters. So we just... we just ignore it. Okay? Please?"
Gabriel stared at me.
He looked at my hand holding his. He looked at the bandage. He looked at my terrified, pleading face.
He gulped. A hard, audible swallow.
For a second, I thought he was going to say something. I thought he was going to hug me. I thought he was going to say, "Oh my poor wife, let me kiss it better."
But he didn't.
He gently—so gently it felt like a ghost's touch—pulled my sleeve back down, covering the bandage.
He pursed his lips.
He pulled his hand away from mine. He lay back down on the pillow. He stared at the ceiling. "Go to sleep, Aleesha," he said.
That was it?
I blinked. I waited.
"But..." I whispered. "Are you mad?"
"Sleep," he said. He closed his eyes. He turned his head away from me.
I sat there, frozen.
My heart shattered a little bit more.
He didn't care.
I just told him I got stabbed by a gangster's son, and he just... went to bed?
He wasn't worried? He wasn't angry for me? He wasn't going to comfort me?
"Okay," I whispered, my voice breaking.
I lay down. I turned my back to him.
I stared at the window again. The city lights were blurry through my fresh tears.
He really is just here for the heir. He doesn't care about the vessel. If I get cut, or stabbed, or hurt... it doesn't matter to him. As long as the baby maker still works.
I hugged my injured arm to my chest.
"I hate you, Gabriel," I whispered into the darkness, meaning it a little bit more this time.
Behind me, the bed was silent. But I felt the mattress shift, just once, as if he was clenching his fists.
But he didn't say a word.