Chapter 39
Mwah. Smooch. Smack.
"Gabby! Stop!"
I giggled, pushing his face away with my palm. But it was like trying to push a very handsome, very stubborn boulder.
He just nuzzled into my hand, kissing my palm, then my wrist, then moving back to my neck.
"Focus, Aleesha," he rumbled against my skin.
"I am trying to focus!" I whined, wiggling in my chair. "But you are eating my neck! I am trying to code! If I type print("I love Gabby's lips") instead of print("Hello World"), Professor Miller is going to fail me!"
It has been days. Days!
Ever since the "Red Flower Incident"—you know, the one where he slammed the door and kissed me like I was the last oxygen tank on Mars—Gabriel has been... different.
He is like a Kissing Monster! A Cuddle Zombie! A Velcro Husband!
Every time I turn around, there he is.
I'm crocheting? Smooch on the cheek. I'm doing homework? Nibble on the ear. I'm watching TV? He pulls me into his lap and uses me as a teddy bear.
It's... it's...
WAAAAHHH! IT'S AMAZING!
But also, my lips are swollen! Huhu. They look like sausages! Cute, pink sausages, but still!
He pulled away reluctantly, his dark eyes scanning my face with an intensity that made my toes curl in my fuzzy socks.
"You smell like strawberry," he muttered, looking like he wanted to take a bite out of my cheek.
"And you smell like trouble," I booped his nose. "Now, shoo! We have to go to the mall later! I need supplies for my final project! And I need ice cream! Essential nutrients!"
Gabriel sighed, the sound heavy with the tragedy of being separated from me for five minutes.
"Fine," he grumbled. "The mall."
★
The mall was buzzing with people. Families, teenagers, couples holding hands.
And then there was us.
Gabriel Muratori, wearing a black t-shirt that fit him a little too well (hello, biceps!), black jeans, and sunglasses indoors because he is extra like that.
And me! Wearing my pink jumper and a white skirt, skipping beside him while clutching his hand.
"Ice cream first!" I declared. "Priorities!"
We went to the gelato stand. I ordered a double scoop: Strawberry Cheesecake and Bubblegum. Gabriel ordered... nothing. He just stared at the menu like it offended his ancestors.
"Just water," he told the cashier.
Boring!
We sat on a bench near the fountain.
It was hot inside the mall today. Maybe the AC was broken? Or maybe it was just Gabriel radiating heat like a furnace.
My ice cream started to melt. A pink rivulet ran down the side of the waffle cone.
"Oh no! Casualty!" I gasped.
I brought the cone to my mouth. I stuck my tongue out.
Lick.
I caught the drip. It was sweet and creamy and cold.
Lick. Lick.
I swirled my tongue around the scoop to shape it back into a ball.
I was happily enjoying my sugar rush when I felt... a weight. A heavy, burning weight on the side of my face.
I paused, mid-lick.
I looked up.
Gabriel was watching me.
He wasn't looking at my eyes. He wasn't looking at the fountain.
He was staring at my mouth.
His sunglasses were pushed up into his hair. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated so wide the obsidian was swallowing the iris. His jaw was clenched tight. He looked... hungry. And not for gelato.
He leaned in slowly. His hand came up to cup my chin. His thumb brushed the corner of my lip where a tiny speck of blue ice cream was.
"Gabby?" I whispered.
He leaned closer. His face was inches from mine. He was going to kiss me! Right here! In front of the pretzel stand! In front of a crying baby in a stroller!
"Gabriel!" I hissed.
I put my hand flat over his face. Specifically, over his eyes.
Slap. (Gently!)
"No!" I scolded him. "Bad husband! We are in public! There are children! There are nuns!" (I looked around; there were no nuns, but you never know!)
Gabriel blinked against my palm. He pulled back, grabbing my wrist.
"You are torture," he rasped.
"And you are a pervert," I giggled, wiping my sticky fingers on a napkin. "Stop looking at my ice cream like you want to murder it."
He rolled his eyes. "I do not want the ice cream."
Oh.
My face heated up.
"Well, too bad!" I jumped up. "We have a mission! To the bookstore!"
I grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the escalator. "I need a specific book for my History of Design class! And new highlighters! And maybe a sticker book because I deserve a treat!"
★
The bookstore smelled like paper and quiet intelligence. My favorite smell (after Gabriel and cookies).
We stood near the entrance.
"Okay," I said, turning to him. "The Art section is way in the back. And the stationary is in the middle. It's tight back there. You are... big."
I gestured to his broad shoulders which took up, like, two aisles worth of space.
"You wait here," I ordered, pointing to a bench outside the store. "Or go to the tech store next door and look at... wires. I need to focus! If you come with me, you will just distract me and I will end up buying a book about tractors or something."
Gabriel frowned. "I will accompany you."
"No!" I pushed his chest. "You are a distraction! You are too handsome! The books will get jealous! Wait here. Five minutes! Pinky promise!"
I held out my pinky.
Gabriel looked at it, sighed the sigh of a long-suffering martyr, and hooked his pinky with mine.
"Five minutes," he warned. "If you are not out, I am coming in."
"Deal!"
I skipped into the store.
I felt so independent! Look at me, shopping alone! Adulting!
I navigated through the aisles. Fiction. Sci-Fi. Cooking.
Ah! Art & Design!
I turned the corner into the aisle. It was narrow, lined with tall shelves packed with colorful hardcovers.
I stood on my tiptoes, scanning the top shelf.
"Where is it? Baroque Architecture and its Influence on Modern..."
I took a step back to get a better angle.
BUMP.
I collided with something solid. Or rather, someone.
"Oof!" I stumbled forward, clutching a book to my chest to keep from dropping it.
"Oh! I am so sorry!" I gasped, spinning around. "I didn't see you! I was looking up and—"
I stopped.
Standing in front of me was a woman.
But not just any woman.
She was... wow.
She was tall. Like, really tall. Maybe five-foot-eight? She towered over my 152 centimeters.
She was wearing a sleek red trench coat that was belted at the waist, showing off a figure that looked like an hourglass. Her hair was a cascading waterfall of rich, glossy brunette waves. Her skin was flawless, tanned and glowing.
She looked like a supermodel who had just stepped off a runway and accidentally wandered into a bookstore.
I felt like a potato next to a diamond. A pink, fluffy potato.
She looked down at me. Her eyes were brown, big, and... intense. She didn't look mad that I bumped into her. She looked... curious.
"I am so, so sorry!" I bowed my head enthusiastically. "I am clumsy! It is a condition! Please forgive me, beautiful lady!"
The woman didn't move away. She just stared at me, her gaze raking over my pink jumper, my messy bun, my face.
She smiled.
It was a slow smile. Her lips were painted a deep crimson.
"It's quite alright," she said. Her voice was smooth. Low. Like melted chocolate. It was enticing.
She took a small step closer.
"You're..." She paused, tilting her head. "Gabriel's girl?"
My eyes widened.
She knows Gabby?!
Of course she does! He is a famous Logistician! Maybe she is a client? Or a business partner? She looks rich enough to ship, like, diamonds!
I beamed, nodding my head so hard I got dizzy.
"Yes!" I chirped, extending my hand for a handshake. "I am Aleesha! Gabriel's wife! Do you know Gabby? Are you a friend from the logistics world?"
The woman didn't take my hand.
She just looked at it. Then she looked back at my face. Her smile widened. "Wife," she repeated, tasting the word. "Cute."
She looked me up and down again.
"He always did like... soft things," she murmured, almost to herself.
"Huh?" I blinked. "Soft? Like... pillows?"
She chuckled. A dark, throaty sound.
"Something like that."
She took another step. She was crowding me now. I backed up until my butt hit the bookshelf. Thump.
She smelled amazing. Like heavy perfume and expensive flowers. It was intoxicating.
"You're very... small," she noted, looming over me.
"I am travel-sized!" I defended weakly. "For convenience!"
I felt a little weird. Why was she looking at me like I was a bug she wanted to squish? Or maybe adopt? I couldn't tell!
And then...
WHOOSH.
A rush of air.
A shadow fell over us.
One second, the space behind me was empty. The next second, a wall of heat and hardness was pressed against my back.
A large arm—thick with muscle and vibrating with tension—wrapped around my waist, pulling me back so hard my feet almost left the ground.
I gasped.
"Gabby?"
I looked up.
Gabriel was there. He had appeared out of nowhere! Like a ninja! One minute he was outside, and the next he was here, shielding me with his body.
But he wasn't looking at me.
He was looking at the woman.
His face was terrifying. His jaw was locked tight. His eyes were slits of pure, frozen rage. His nostrils flared. The vein in his neck was pulsing.
He held me so tight it almost hurt. Like he was trying to merge me into his ribcage.
The temperature in the aisle dropped about fifty degrees.
The woman—the beautiful brunette—didn't look scared. She just smiled that same, slow, red smile.
"Hello, Gabriel," she purred.
Gabriel didn't return the greeting.
His voice came out as a low, dangerous growl that shook his chest against my back.
"What are you doing here," he spat the name like a curse, "Natalia?"
I froze.
My heart stopped beating. My breath caught in my throat.
Natalia?
The name echoed in my head.
The name on his back. The name he erased. The name of the ghost.
I looked at the woman. Beautiful. Tall. Sexy. Brunette.
And then I looked at Gabriel, who was holding me like I was a shield... or a hostage.
Oh no.
It's her.