Chapter 15
GAbrIELA
I lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling as the memory of Romeo kissing me plays through my mind on repeat. A well of unwanted feelings springs up inside me, and I try to shove them back down.
He didn’t just kiss me. He really kissed me.
And I responded.
Guilt and confusion war inside my head as I try to reason it away.
Romeo likes to mess with me, but it didn’t feel like that was what he was doing. If he were messing with me, it would have been extraordinarily cruel, even for him. But the thought that it could be anything else makes it hard to breathe.
My heart remembers what it felt like when he broke it. I can’t survive that again. There’s no way I can even entertain the possibility of putting myself through that a second time.
The only logical thing to do is avoid him and forget it ever happened. But for some reason, that thought makes me feel equally unsettled.
There’s also Eros to consider.
Even though he’s been ghosting me, we have something, though I’m not quite sure how to define it.
He’s said things to me that transcend our casual relationship, like the fact that he doesn’t share. Or that I belong to him, and he’s the only one who gets to have me.
I’m already dreading how he might react when I tell him that I kissed Romeo. He won’t like it, and that terrifies me a little.
He knows too much about my life, and it probably wouldn’t be difficult for him to track Romeo down.
They’re both deadly, and I don’t know what might happen in that scenario.
As I think it through, I find myself comparing their other traits.
They’re both sarcastic with a dry sense of humor. And physically, their builds seem very similar. They both tower over me, and I haven’t seen Eros’s body, but he feels just as muscular as Romeo is.
Neither of them wears cologne, but I could almost swear they both have the same lingering scent of cloves and something woodsy.
There’s also the fact that Beppe has never shied away from Eros. I even remarked on it once. It almost seemed like he knew him. But I also think I could be making connections that don’t really exist.
If Romeo wanted me, why would he push me away?
The truth is, there’s a part of me that will always be tethered to him, but our history is history for a reason.
Too much has happened between us.
I have to believe that even if he meant to kiss me tonight, and it wasn’t to mess with my head, it was just a temporary resurgence of old feelings.
There was a time when we both knew each other better than anyone else, and it’s easy to fall back into those patterns during a vulnerable moment.
I can only imagine he regrets that it ever happened, and by tomorrow, he’ll probably have forgotten it entirely.
I don’t know much about Romeo’s love life because he keeps things private, but I’m certain he must have had women over the years.
He’s far too handsome to avoid attention, and admittedly, I don’t like thinking about how many offers he’s probably had.
It’s not my business, and I shouldn’t even be dwelling on it. I also shouldn’t have this sick feeling in my gut when I do.
He doesn’t belong to me.
And I don’t belong to him anymore.
My phone alerts me to a video call, and when I see who it’s from, I can’t help feeling torn in two directions. But I answer anyway.
“Hi,” Eros greets me.
For a moment, I consider what it would be like if I just said it. Show me who you are. But I’m still too afraid to go there, so I don’t.
“You’ve ghosted me all week, and all I get is a ‘hi’?”
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry, Gabi.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
As soon as I say it, I regret it. I don’t have the right to demand answers from him when I told him this could never be anything serious. Especially not after what I did tonight.
“Never mind.” I blow out a breath. “Just tell me you’re alright.”
“I’m alright.”
“Okay.” I pause for a beat. “Has this situation between us run its course?”
“No.”
The intensity of that single word catches me off guard. Because, again, it doesn’t sound like a passing thing.
“I still want to see you.” He softens his tone. “I’m taking you to the manor this weekend like we planned.”
Guilt eats at me, and before I can stop myself, I blurt out my confession.
“I kissed someone else. I think it’s only fair you know.”
Silence stretches between us for a moment before he responds, far calmer than I expected.
“Your megalodon?”
“Yes.” I swallow. “I know I told you that you weren’t a placeholder, and I meant it—”
“Gabi, I don’t care.”
My head snaps up as I blink at him. “You don’t?”
“No. You said you wanted to keep this casual, right?”
“Yes, but…” I pause to gather my thoughts. “You said I belonged to you, and that you don’t share.”
“My alter ego says a lot of things,” he answers wryly. “You have a tendency to bring that out in me.”
“Okay.” I frown.
I’m not certain what this feeling is. Maybe it’s disappointment, or relief, or both. It’s just strange how much things have shifted between us, when before it sounded like he despised the thought of this being inconsequential.
“I told you from the beginning, I’m not good for you,” he says softly. “That hasn’t changed. So don’t let yourself get too invested in me. Not emotionally.”
I nod, a little choked up even though it doesn’t make sense. This is exactly what we agreed on.
“Do you still want him?” he asks.
I twist my fingers together and lower my gaze. “I stopped letting myself think that was an option a long time ago.”
He processes that for a minute and nods.
Tension lingers between us, and I’m grateful when he breaks it.
“So, you still want me to fuck you senseless at the manor this weekend?”
I laugh at his crassness, even as another pang of guilt settles inside me.
I do want to go to the manor, and I hate this feeling, but this is what Romeo does to me.
He gets me all twisted up in knots until I don’t know what to think. But he shouldn’t have that kind of power over me, and one kiss doesn’t erase the last five years.
I told myself I had to move on, and what happened tonight doesn’t change that. So I make an executive decision and hold myself to it.
“I want to go.”
“Good,” Eros says. “Anything you want to take off the table?”
I realize he’s referring to all the things I said I wanted to try. There’s a long list, but I can’t think of anything that I wouldn’t want to do there.
I told him I’d want him to be rough with me, and it will be even better not knowing exactly what he might do.
“Nothing to take off the table,” I confirm.
“Alright,” he murmurs. “I’ll send your costume over tomorrow, and we’ll meet there on Friday.”
“I won’t see you before then?”
“I have some things to take care of,” he tells me. “But I want you to do something for me.”
“Okay, what?”
“From now on, when I ask you about him, I want you to be completely honest, even if you think I won’t like the answer.”
I swallow, wondering if that’s such a good idea. But I guess it’s fair.
I nod my agreement.
“And one more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Send me a picture before bed. I want to see what I’m missing.”
“Hey.” I smile at Rafe, sneaking a glance at his packed bag sitting on the coffee table. “You leaving?”
“Yeah. Earlier than planned, but I didn’t want to bail without saying goodbye.”
I don’t have to ask to know that Romeo is already gone. It’s not a surprise, considering he wasn’t here when I left for school.
I swallow the weird feeling in my throat and nod.
“Thanks for taking care of my stubborn-ass brother.” He rises from the lounge and grabs his bag. “It’s funny, he’s never let anyone else do that.”
“Oh?” I rasp.
Part of me knew that, but I wish Rafe weren’t confirming it right now. It only makes things more difficult.
“You two always had a special connection.”
“Yeah, we did. A long time ago.”
“I guess some things never change.” He offers me a sad smile. “No matter how much he tries to push everyone away.”
With those parting words, he takes his leave, and I stand there staring after him until my phone pings and snaps me out of it.
Frowning at the screen, I open the text from Michael.
You’ll meet with Riccardo this Saturday at the Vitale estate to discuss wedding plans with Valentina and have a dance lesson with their nonna.
The phrase "wedding plans" settles in my gut like a lead weight.
The last thing on earth I want to do right now is start planning my wedding to Riccardo.
But trying to explain to Michael that I want to focus on school for the rest of the year would be as productive as banging my head against a brick wall.
He’d yank me out so fast, without an ounce of regret, if I said something like that.
Channeling my self-preservation, I text him back my agreement.
With that dark cloud hanging over my head, I venture to my room and find a black gift box on my bed. When I open it up, there’s a note waiting for me inside.
See you Friday, kitty cat.
I unfold the tissue paper, revealing a kitten half-mask first—the face a smooth, soft pink, with rose-gold filigree curling around the eyes. The ears are made of soft pink velvet, and two pieces of satin ribbon tie it together at the back.
Beneath that, there’s a matching choker that looks like a cat collar, complete with a tiny bell.
When I unfold the costume itself, I find a blush pink long-sleeve leotard with a scoop neck and a snap closure. The second piece is a short, chiffon wrap skirt.
The combination of ballerina and kitten is perfect, and I honestly couldn’t have picked something I love more.
It's a little eerie how well he knows me.
I try on the cat ears and snap a selfie, then upload it to our chat.
BiteSizedGabi: Can’t wait to try the rest on.
Eros415: Can’t wait to ravage you in it.
BiteSizedGabi: Only if you catch me.
Eros415: You say that like you don’t know how this ends. I always win, Gabriela. The chase is a courtesy to let you think you have a chance.
BiteSizedGabi: Hmm. I guess we’ll see. How will I know what you’re wearing?
Eros415: You won’t. Remember your claim signal?
BiteSizedGabi: Venator?
Eros415: Good girl. Use it when you think I’ve caught you. I’ll respond with mine.
I forgot there were two, and I’d meant to look them up. When I pull the invitation from my nightstand, I see them together.
Venator/Praeda.
A quick search confirms they mean hunter and prey.
My stomach does a weird flip at the first word. It could be a coincidence, and it most likely is, but I feel like it’s haunting me now. Or, more accurately, maybe he is.
I collapse onto the bed, groaning when I realize my pillow still smells like him.
Yep...
Romeo Vitale is definitely haunting me.