Chapter 28
GAbrIELA
Chantel takes me for a light breakfast at a cozy café, and we spend some time browsing a bookstore before we head to a local boutique. After picking out some ridiculously fluffy slippers and a new tote bag, we head back to the penthouse.
“Are you going to give me any idea of what I should expect?” I ask Chantel as we ride the elevator up with Julian.
“Sorry.” She smiles. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”
My friends get creative when it comes to planning parties. We always celebrate each other’s birthdays in some fashion or another. Some of the more notable themes have included pastel picnics, mystery dinners, royal garden parties, 90s nostalgia, and Barbie glam.
I don’t usually like surprises because I don’t know how to react, but these parties are the exception. I never have to worry about feeling out of place among my friends.
Given the brief Chantel gave me this morning to aim for a coquette look, I anticipate a more relaxed day, which is perfectly fine by me.
I settled on a vintage-cut ivory lace dress with a blush-pink cardigan, and Chantel styled my hair into two loose braids, ribbons tied at the ends.
As for her, she opted for a dark lavender midi dress with a ruched bodice instead of her usual deep, rich palette.
In our current state, it’s hard to tell since it’s now November and I’m wrapped in a pink faux-fur coat while Chantel dons a gray cashmere wrap.
With Julian trailing after us in his typical rough-edged style, we had plenty of curious looks while we were out.
When the elevator doors open into the penthouse, we step into a pastel daydream of pink and soft cream.
Bouquets of peonies spill from vases, while fairy lights, throw pillows, and blankets soften the rest of the space.
I also notice there’s a flower wall for photos and a tree of fancy hats.
In the dining area, a dreamy tablescape of floral china and teacups glimmers over delicate lace linens.
Tiered trays overflow with tiny sandwiches, scones, macarons, and pastel petit fours. It’s all so pretty that I have to pause to take everything in.
“You like it?” Abella asks.
My gaze drifts to my cousin, who’s currently flanked by the rest of my friends and all the Vitale brothers. The latter comes as a surprise, particularly when I see Romeo.
For one awkward second, I catch myself watching him as his eyes rake over me. His jaw tightens a fraction, and he does a slow blink before his gaze moves to mine, and I panic.
“It’s all so party,” I stammer, catching my blunder as heat rushes to my face. “I mean pretty. Tea. I really like tea.”
Good God, Gabi. Just stop talking.
Romeo’s lip twitches as Abella gives me a curious glance. “Well, come in and get cozy.”
“Right.” I nod stiffly.
I have no idea why I feel so awkward right now, but Romeo being here has totally thrown me for a loop.
The last time he attended one of my birthday parties was nine years ago.
The exception would be the parties held on the island, where he had no choice but to be somewhat adjacent.
But this is different. His presence here indicates intentional participation.
I strip off my coat as Beppe skitters across the floor to greet me with a tail wag. Bending down, I scoop him up into my arms, giving him a kiss and a cuddle as I pause to let my heart settle.
Chantel hangs up both our coats in the closet, and we settle into the party together.
The men all migrate to the bar area, while Abella leads us to a tea cart.
“Cocktails first?” Abella gestures at the fancy martini glasses filled with cotton candy clouds.
“Definitely.” I perk up. Maybe that will take the edge off.
She pops a bottle of prosecco and pours it into each glass, letting the cotton candy dissolve.
“I have no idea how these are going to taste.” She laughs as she hands out the drinks. “But I guess we’ll find out.”
Once we all have our glasses, Abella raises hers while everyone else follows suit. This is our tradition, since my friends know I can’t handle the painfully long awkwardness of everyone singing to me.
“To our sweet, beautiful Gabriela. We all love you so much. Here’s to another year of growth, laughter, and love.” She emphasizes that last part with a smile. “Cin cin! Alla nostra ragazza preferita.”
I get a little teary-eyed, the way I usually do when Abella does the toast, but nobody makes a big deal of it as we all touch our glasses together and take a drink.
“Mmm.” Chantel swirls her glass after a sip. “That’s actually quite good.”
“I like it,” I agree.
“Of course you do.” Val smiles over the rim of her glass. “I can’t believe we haven’t done a carnival-themed party for you yet.”
“Good point.” Chantel smirks. “I bet you would love that.”
I shoot her a look, and we both share a secret laugh.
For the next twenty minutes, we mingle and catch up while the men pass Antonella around between them, each of them doting on her. It’s so strange to see a bunch of deadly men going soft for a baby, but it’s also fun to watch.
Eventually, Rafe infiltrates our side of the room, sneaking a macaron off the table before Mariella swats him away.
“Yours are on the sideboard.”
He grabs a plate and frowns as he looks down at the trays reserved for them. “What’s up with these tiny sandwiches?”
Michele ambles over to join him, giving the food a once-over. “They’re Gabi-sized.”
“The hilarious part is he genuinely thinks we cut them that size for you.” Mariella rolls her eyes.
“Why do they have cucumbers in them?” Cristian grumbles as he and Angelo look over the offerings.
“This is why you don’t invite men to a tea party.” Val laughs.
A few of my friends venture over to explain how this works, and I sip on my cocktail, enjoying the show. Chantel and Serafina start talking about a book they both read, and while everyone’s distracted, a warm voice brushes against my ear.
“Happy birthday, Gabriela.”
That low, deep reverberation sends a shiver all the way down to my toes, and when I glance over my shoulder, Romeo is right behind me.
In typical serial killer fashion, I didn’t hear him approach.
“Hi,” I breathe, slowly turning to face him. “What are you doing here?”
As soon as the question leaves my lips, I worry it sounded like an insult, so I rush to overexplain.
“I just meant—”
“I know what you meant.” Amusement glimmers in his warm, amber irises.
For a moment, I get lost in those depths, forgetting myself as I stare at him. It’s been so long since I’ve let myself study them, I forgot how much they took my breath away.
True to his namesake, Il Lupo, his eyes are wolfish and a little wild. Always watching, always tracking. He absorbs everything, luring in prey with a false sense of comfort before he bites. Or maybe that’s just how I imagine him.
“Hope I’m not interrupting.” Rafe ambles over with a smirk on his face, slapping his brother on the back. “You want a doll-sized sandwich?”
Romeo grimaces before he shoots his brother a glare.
“Oh fuck, sorry. Forgot about the ribs.”
My heart beats erratically as that information settles between us.
It’s just a coincidence—him and Eros both being hurt at the same time. It has to be. He has a girlfriend.
“Did you get Gabs a gift?” Rafe asks. “I bet mine is better.”
This earns him another scowl from Romeo before he turns his attention back to me.
“My gift to her is my presence.” He tugs on the end of my braid. “And one whole day of no torment.”
My stomach somersaults when he gives me a hint of a smile.
“Always the charmer.” Rafe snorts.
“Okay, time for presents,” Abella announces. “Where’s the birthday girl?”
She glances across the room, her gaze moving between Romeo and me before she raises her brows.
I shrug, and she smiles.
“Over here, Gabs.” Valentina gestures to the lounge, where they’ve tried to lure me in with all the soft blankets and pillows.
They know those are my weakness. They also know that opening presents is my least favorite part of these parties.
It’s not that I’m not grateful, and I actually do like presents. But opening them with so many eyes on me is always a little embarrassing, no matter how you slice it.
My family didn’t really get me presents when I was growing up.
Half the time, my parents forgot my birthday, and when they did remember, they just sent me to the island.
Regardless, I didn’t care because I’d rather spend the day with my cousins.
They always made it special, and even if there had been no presents or cake, I would have been happy just to be with them.
I make my way over to the lounge, and Val gives me an encouraging smile as she whispers conspiratorially. “Don’t worry. The guys are so busy eating they won’t even pay attention. That’s why we’re doing it now.”
I glance at the sideboard and can see that’s true. Everyone but Romeo and Rafe is gathered around, talking amongst each other as they eat from plates that look tiny in their huge Vitale hands.
It should be a comfort to have fewer eyes on me, but there’s one pair I can’t seem to escape.
As I steal a glance at him, I wonder if this is some weird new game we’re playing—like who will look away first. Except, he always wins that game, and this time is no exception because Val brings me the first present to open.
It’s a gift from her, of course, because Val is always eager to give her gifts out.
“I hope you love it.” She waits anxiously as I remove the top of the gift box and peer inside.
My eyes light up when I see the Regency-style vanity tray and matching hand mirror.
“Now you’ll feel like you’re living in a Jane Austen novel,” she says.
“I love it so much, Val. Thank you.”
She beams proudly and sets the box aside, handing me another one. The process continues with too many presents to count. My friends know me well, and every gift reflects that.