Chapter 63
The cottage was quiet. The only sound was the crackling of the fireplace and the turning of my pages. Flip.
I was curled up on the big, fluffy sofa in the living room. I was reading a very intellectual book: Disney's Beauty and the Beast (Illustrated Edition).
It is a classic! It has pictures! And it is about a girl who lives with a grumpy beast in a castle.
Hmph. Sounds familiar.
I glanced up from the picture of Belle yelling at the Beast.
Through the large glass sliding door, I saw him.
He was sitting on the wooden chair on the porch. The Swiss mountains were behind him, looking all majestic and snowy. But he... he looked like a dark storm cloud.
He was staring at me. Through the glass.
And in his hand... was a white stick. A stick of death!
Smoke curled up into the clean mountain air.
GASP.
He is smoking! Again!
My eyes widened. I felt the steam coming out of my ears like a cartoon character! Toot toot!
I already told him! I told him smoking is bad! It makes your lungs black! It makes you cough! It makes you die early!
And now... he is doing it right in front of me? (Okay, technically behind a glass door, but still!).
Is he mocking me? Is he saying, "Look at me, Aleesha! I am a bad boy! I break rules! I cheat on wives and I smoke!"
I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my brain.
Ignore him, Aleesha, I told myself. Focus on Belle. Belle is smart. She reads books.
I looked back down.
But I could feel his gaze. It was heavy. Like a physical weight on my skin.
I peeked again.
He was reaching into his pocket. He pulled out... a New Pack.
A fresh, plastic-wrapped pack of cancer sticks!
WAAAAH!
That's it! The Beast needs to be tamed!
I slammed the book shut. THUD.
I stood up. I marched to the glass door. I slid it open with a vengeance. SWISH. I stormed onto the porch. The cold air hit my face, but I was too hot with anger to care! I marched right up to him.
Gabriel didn't move. He just watched me come closer, his dark eyes unreadable. He had the unlit cigarette in one hand and the pack in the other.
SLAP.
I smacked his hand. Hard!
The cigarette pack flew out of his grip and landed on the wooden floor.
"Bad!" I scolded him, pointing a shaking finger at his face. "Bad Gabby! No smoking! It is gross! It kills you! Do you want to be a skeleton? Do you want to leave me a widow?!"
I paused.
"Wait... I am already leaving you! I am an ex-wife! But still! I don't want a dead ex-husband!"
I panted, my chest heaving.
Gabriel just sat there.
He leaned back against the chair, looking calm. Too calm. Like I hadn't just assaulted his hand.
He raised one eyebrow. Just a fraction.
"Are you finished?" he asked, his voice low and raspy.
He crossed his leg, looking like a King on a throne instead of a naughty boy on a porch.
The audacity!
SLAP.
I slapped his leg.
"Don't cross your legs at me!" I yelled. "Put it down! Sit properly!"
I shoved his knee until his foot was back on the floor.
He let me do it. He didn't fight back. He just watched me with that intense, burning gaze.
I looked down. The cigarette pack was lying near my foot. I narrowed my eyes at it. The Enemy.
"Be gone!"
KICK.
I punted the pack. It flew off the porch and landed somewhere in the tall grass. (Sorry, nature! I will pick it up later! But for now, it is a statement!).
I glared at Gabriel one last time.
"Hmph!"
I turned around and stormed back inside. I slammed the glass door.
I marched back to the sofa. I picked up my book.
Flip.
I am reading. I am unbothered. I am peaceful.
Minutes passed.
The cushion beside me sank.
I glanced sideways. Gabriel was sitting there.
He leaned closer.
Sniff.
I wrinkled my nose.
Tobacco. Smoke. Ash.
"Eww!" I squeaked, scooting to the far end of the sofa. "You smell like a chimney! Go away! You are contaminating my aura!"
Gabriel froze. He sniffed his own shirt.
He looked at me. I was pinching my nose. He didn't say anything. He stood up immediately. He walked to the stairs. He went up to the loft. I heard water running. Then drawers opening.
Five minutes later, he came back down.
He was wearing a fresh black t-shirt. His hair was slightly damp. And as he walked closer...
Sniff.
Sandalwood. Mint. Expensive soap.
My favorite smell.
Darn it. Why does he have to smell so good when I am trying to hate him?
He walked over to the living area.
But instead of sitting on the sofa... he sat on the edge of the coffee table.
Right in front of me.
His knees were almost touching the sofa cushions. He was leaning forward, his elbows on his thighs, his hands clasped.
He was at my eye level.
He just... stared.
I tried to read.
"Belle walked into the library..."
I could feel his eyes. They were lasers! Burning holes in my book!
"The Beast roared..."
He was watching my face. Watching my eyes move. Watching me breathe.
It was annoying! It was intense! It was... making my heart beat fast!
Thump. Thump.
"Stop it," I muttered, not looking up.
He didn't stop.
"I said stop staring," I whispered, gripping the book tighter.
He didn't blink.
ARGH!
I slammed the book down on my lap.
"WHAT?!" I yelled, looking at him. "Why are you looking at me like I am a puzzle you can't solve?! I am just reading! Go do logistics! Go count cows!"
Gabriel didn't move.
"I cannot look away," he said simply. "You are the only thing worth looking at."
My breath hitched.
No! Don't fall for the smooth lines, Aleesha! He is a cheater!
I stood up. I stepped into the space between his spread legs (because he was blocking my exit!). I put my hands on my hips.
"You are annoying! You are a pest! You are—"
I didn't get to finish.
Gabriel's hands shot out.
He grabbed my waist. His grip was firm. Possessive.
He yanked me forward. Before I could squeak, he slammed his lips against mine.
MMPH!
It wasn't a sweet kiss. It was hungry. Desperate. Raw.
He devoured my mouth. He tasted like mint and desperation.
I tried to pull away! I pushed his chest! "No!"
But he didn't let go.
He stood up, taking me with him, and pushed me backward.
I stumbled back until my legs hit the sofa. I fell back onto the cushions.
Gabriel followed me down. He loomed over me, caging me in. He pushed my legs apart roughly with his knees and settled between them.
He kissed me again. Harder. Deeper.
My head spun. My body... my traitor body... wanted to melt. It remembered him. It missed him.
But my brain screamed: NATALIA!
I wrenched my mouth free. I turned my head to the side, panting.
"Stop!" I cried. "Get off me! You cheater!"
Gabriel froze.
He was hovering over me, his chest heaving against mine. His eyes were wild.
"Listen to me," he whispered, his voice rough. "For once, Aleesha. Just listen."
"No!" I sobbed, tears leaking out of my eyes. "I gave you everything! I was a good wife! I learned hacking for you! I baked cakes! And you... you cheated! You enjoyed it!"
"I did not cheat!" Gabriel growled. "I have never touched her! Not once since I met you!"
He grabbed my chin gently, forcing me to look at him.
"Natalia is poison. She wants to tear us apart. She knows I am happy... for the first time in my miserable life, I am happy. And she hates it."
His eyes were searching mine. Pleading. "Do not let her win, Aleesha. Do not let a ghost destroy what we have."
I stared at him.
He looked so broken. So terrified of losing me.
"But... she said..." I whispered.
"Lies," Gabriel cut me off. "All lies. You are the only one."
He lowered his head.
He buried his face in the crook of my neck.
He inhaled deeply. Shuddering against me.
"You are my sanity," he mumbled against my skin, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. "Please... forgive me for letting her get to you. Forgive me for not protecting you from her lies."
He kissed my pulse point. Softly. Reverently.
"Please, Wife."
I lay there. Frozen.
My hands were hovering over his back.
I wanted to push him away. I wanted to hug him.
I did neither.
I just sat still, staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling, while my husband—the Grumpy Logistician—hid his face in my neck and begged for me to stay.
I bit my lip so hard..
He says it's a lie. He says Natalia is the one manipulating me.
But Gabriel Muratori doesn't just tell the truth; he manufactures it.
I remembered Stephie. One day, her life was ruined by a scandal. The next day? Gone. Poof. Like magic. Because Gabriel snapped his fingers and rewrote the narrative.
I remembered the plane. I was on a commercial flight to Japan. Then, BING-BONG, emergency landing. A private jet waiting. A script written just for me.
If he can command pilots to drop out of the sky... if he can scrub the internet clean... if he can bend the entire world to his will...
Couldn't he fake a phone call recording? Couldn't he make Natalia say exactly what he needed her to say to keep his "perfect wife" from leaving?
Is this the truth? Or is this just another logistic solution to a problem?
Am I the problem he is fixing?
And yet... the heat of his skin against mine felt so real. His trembling felt so real.
And for the first time... the gray in my world started to turn a little bit pink again.
But just a little.