Chapter 2
GAbrIELA
“Hey,” Abella greets me when I answer the phone. “Are you done with school for the day?”
“Yes.” I step into the elevator, and Julian punches in the code on the panel as the doors slide shut. “I’m just getting back to the penthouse.”
“Perfect.” Something rustles in the background as she moves around. “I’m here already, but I wanted to give you a heads-up. Angelo and his brothers are bringing your things over, and the girls are coming over to help you unpack. Is that okay?”
“Oh yeah, that’s…fine,” I mumble.
I’ll be happy to see the girls, but the mention of Angelo’s brothers triggers a familiar knot of tension in my throat.
Logically, I know it’s unlikely I’ll even see Romeo today.
He’s probably too busy hacking or murdering someone to help.
It’s not like I have that many things to move, and I’m the last person he’d volunteer his time for.
If anything, it’ll probably be Rafe, Michele, or Cristian who show up.
“Okay, I’ll see you in a few,” Abella says distractedly as the baby fusses in the background. “I have to feed Antonella.”
“Alright.”
I disconnect the call, and the elevator arrives a moment later, opening into the Vitales’ two-story penthouse.
Situated in one of Seattle’s most exclusive residential towers, it’s a prime piece of real estate with panoramic views of the city.
The open concept seamlessly transitions the primary living area to the dining and kitchen areas.
Everything is beautiful and expensive—from the polished marble floors to the high-end oversized furniture.
I’ve spent time here on occasion when we have an event in the city we’ve all gathered for.
But last night, as I soaked up the moonlight spilling in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I felt oddly at peace.
Unlike my apartment, where you could hear everything at all hours of the night, it was serenely quiet here.
Abella showed me my suite, but I opted to curl up on the huge lounge with Beppe instead.
We snuggled into my blankets and fell asleep beneath the starry sky.
When I woke up today, I actually felt well-rested, and now I think this sudden change might not be so bad. Abella even showed me an empty room I can use as a studio to work on my senior project. I’ll be able to set up a dedicated sewing station, my dress form, fabric, and all my tools.
Unsurprisingly, Michael didn’t put up a fight when Angelo called him last night to explain the situation. I think he was just relieved he didn’t have to deal with the problem himself.
“Where would you like your bag?” Julian asks.
“I’ll take it to my room, thanks.” I grab it from him, and we part ways as I drift down the hallway to the guest suites.
Mine is at the very end of the hall with two entire walls of floor-to-ceiling glass. It feels a bit like being in an aquarium, but I also love it, and I already know that’s exactly where I want to move the bed.
I set my bag down on the desk and glance around the space I’ll call home until graduation. The furniture in here is much nicer than what I had in my apartment, so Angelo offered to put mine in storage until I need it again.
The bed alone is massive, and all that fluffy white bedding on top looks like a cloud.
“What do you think, Beppe?” I glance down at him in his tote. “Should we try it out?”
He barks his agreement, so I pull him out and set him free on the bed. I face plant beside him, letting out a contented sigh as I sink into the mass of softness. Beppe does a few zoomies around my head, then pauses to lick-attack my face.
“I know,” I groan. “We’ll go for a walk soon.”
“Talking to yourself again?”
That deep, familiar voice sends my pulse skittering, and my cheeks flush with warmth as I sit up and coax the wild hair from my face.
I wanted to think I was imagining it, but when my gaze collides with those haunting amber eyes, there’s no denying his presence.
All six-foot-three of Romeo Vitale darkens my doorway as he stands there holding a box of my clothes.
The sight of him disorients me, and without meaning to, my eyes sweep over him. Unsurprisingly, he’s still insanely hot, even though I’ve tried repeatedly to convince myself otherwise.
Out of all the Vitale brothers, he’s the least polished on the surface.
Having developed his own sense of I-don’t-give-a-fuck style over the years, he prowls around in black clothes and combat boots almost ninety-nine percent of the time.
Usually, it’s a combination of black jeans or trousers with a T-shirt, hoodie, or a fitted black dress shirt, which he rolls up at the sleeves.
When the occasion calls for it, he’ll wear a suit, but it doesn’t matter what he wears because he always looks like he’s about to burn the world.
He keeps his dark hair cut short, and his eyes are usually shadowed like he’s been up all night, because he probably has.
Every visible inch of his skin is inked, all the way up his neck and down to his fingers.
He has two full sleeves, and I know from seeing him with his shirt off in the Vitale’s backyard gym that his chest and back are covered, too.
He’s built like a machine of war and there’s an aura around him that screams danger, but his presence triggers something deep inside me I’ve tried in vain to kill.
Craving.
Somewhere, buried beneath all that hostility and rage is the boy who once stole my heart.
He never gave it back.
I resent him for it, and I wish I could just make these stupid feelings go away. But as always, he’s quick to remind me that whatever existed between us died the day the lightning struck him.
“If I’d known this was for you, I would have taken the time to remove your labels and rearrange your things.” He stalks inside and sets the box on the dresser.
I swallow, drawing a blank as I try to conjure up a clever response.
They usually come to me when I’m ruminating on conversations after the fact, long past the time they’re actually useful.
Romeo and I might not get along anymore, but he doesn’t forget any of the things he can weaponize, like my need to have everything organized a certain way.
“Funny.” Abella enters the room with Antonella propped on her hip. “I thought all the pink would have given it away.”
Romeo glances down at the box on the dresser, scooping out a pair of my cherry-printed underwear and holding them up with one finger. “Figures all this doll-sized clothing would belong to bubblegum Barbie.”
“Romeo,” Abella chides him.
“What?” He stares at her, face blank.
“That’s not…you’re not supposed to do that kind of stuff.”
“I’m not supposed to make observations?” He arches a brow at her.
She opens her mouth, trying and failing to find a way to explain this to him.
Everyone thinks Romeo lost most of his social etiquette after the lightning strike, because he lacks a filter or boundaries.
But sometimes, I’m skeptical that he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing, especially with that little smirk on his face.
He was always the quiet, introverted, artistic one among his family.
Now I’d describe him more as antisocial—or, at least, that’s how he wants to be perceived.
He’s either tossing around dark looks or completely disinterested in everyone around him.
When he does speak, it’s usually to deliver a dry or sarcastic remark.
But beneath that wall he’s erected to keep everyone out, I suspect the Romeo I know is still in there somewhere.
“Abella?” Angelo calls out from the living room. “Can you give me a hand?”
“I’ll be right back.” She shoots me an apologetic glance.
I nod, and the second she leaves the room, Romeo kicks the hornet’s nest.
“You know what your problem is, Gabi?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not.”
He offers me a lazy appraisal. “You care too much what other people think about you.”
“Is that why you let everyone believe you lost your filter when really, this is just who you are?”
“You should try saying what you really want for once.” He swings my underwear around his finger, taunting me. “Like right now. You could tell me to fuck off, but you won’t.”
I walk over to him and try to snatch my underwear back. He holds them up out of reach, which isn’t difficult at his height.
His eyes move over my outfit—a crop top and a pair of paint-splattered overalls I decorated myself.
“Getting ready for a shift at Build-A-Bear?” The corner of his mouth tilts into a smirk. “Did you get that top there too?”
“Very funny.” My face flushes as I stare at the underwear dangling from his finger. “Give them back.”
“Tell me to fuck off, and I’ll consider it.”
I open my mouth, but I can’t say the words, and he knows it.
“Such a little people pleaser, aren’t you?” He lifts the underwear higher. “If you want them back, it shouldn’t be too hard. All you have to do is grab them.”
I jump up and try to take them, but he’s too quick, and when he moves, I stumble into him with a grunt.
Our eyes clash, and his darken as my lips part. He’s so warm and solid, I’d forgotten what it felt like to be close to him.
I’m pretty sure this is the first time we’ve even touched in nine years.
Voices outside the door carry down the hall as they approach, so I take what’s left of my dignity and peel myself off Romeo’s body.
Much to my dismay, he pockets my underwear. Before I can lodge another protest, all four of his brothers enter the room with more of my belongings.
“What’s up, Gabs?” Rafe glances between Romeo and me, noting the unusually close distance between us. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
“Is it congrats or condolences?” Michele glances at my bare hand. “Did Riccardo even buy you a ring yet?”