29. Riley
TWENTY-NINE
I showup at Gabriel”s house at eight on the dot, and my new car looks picture perfect in the driveway of the mansion. Like a freaking car commercial.
I, on the other hand, stick out like a turd in a punchbowl.
Tonight I”m wearing my usual after-work attire: faded jeans, sneakers, and a black tank top emblazoned with a cartoon vampire cat that says VAM-PURR. No jewelry, very little makeup, hair in a messy ponytail. It”s the polar opposite of what I looked like Saturday night. It”s even different than earlier today, when I was in my work dress and heels.
Maybe this is some sort of a defense mechanism because all I can think when I walk up to his imposing front door is that I want him to see the real me. The me that”s not glamorous, the me that”s not created by him. The plain Jane me, the girl from Southie.
The door swings open, and he”s standing just inches away. Looking clean and delicious and completely, heartbreakingly formal.
”You”re.... You”re...” I stammer, eventually dissolving into a giggle. ”Sorry. I was planning on taking you to Roy”s on the River. I think you”re a tad overdressed.”
That”s a well-known, ramshackle bar known for its live garage bands, its messy grouper sandwiches, and its strong drinks in plastic cups.
He blinks, eyes me up and down, and laughs. ”So I guess a blazer, sweater, dress shirt, trousers and boots aren”t appropriate.”
I shake my head and he reaches for my wrist, pulling me toward him, inside of his lair. In his expensive outfit, he looks so much older than me. Well, he is older, but the chasm feels different now that we”re standing side-by-side.
But it”s not like I have time to dwell on this because he”s pulling me in for a scorching kiss, one I can”t resist.
”I love your tank top,” he growls against my mouth.
”Thanks. Seriously. You might want to change for where we”re going.”
”Mmm. You sure you don”t want to stay in?”
I step back. It would be so easy to stay here in this luxurious house. To eat dinner here, drink expensive liquor, then fall into his bed and enjoy hours of pleasure. But that”s not what I want. Okay, it is, but not entirely.
I want answers about Doyle, and I need to know why Gabriel”s so insistent on spending time with me. Screwing will only complicate that.
”Go. Get ready. Shoo.” I pat him on the ass, and he laughs.
”Fine. Fine! Want to join me while I change?” It”s difficult to resist those flashing dark eyes. He winks.
”No, silly Just go. I”m starving.”
I”m saved by Reese, who sprints into the foyer. ”I”ll stay here with the dog.”
Gabriel sighs dramatically and walks up the stairs, while I plop down on the floor and allow Reese to lick my face. Of all the things in Gabriel”s world, this pupper is one I could truly fall in love with.
We spend a solid five minutes cuddling. Because I”m afraid of big dogs, my instant ease with Reese is nothing short of a miracle. He even allows me to hug him, the little fur ball.
”Maybe you should come live with me,” I say to Reese. ”You can be my roommate. My bestie. I”ll take you for a walk every day, and to the dog beach. Would you like that?”
”You planning on kidnapping my dog?” Gabriel walks toward me. He”s now in a faded blue T-shirt that stretches over his muscles, cute tan shorts, and classic white sneakers. Suddenly he looks younger, and I stand up, unable to help myself from grinning.
”Maybe. He”s pretty adorable.”
Gabriel pulls me in for a kiss. God, he tastes so good, like mint. Everything about this man is addictive.
”But not as adorable as you,” I murmur.
”You sure you don”t want to stay here tonight?”
Ugh, it”s so tempting. I pull out of Gabriele”s embrace. Could it be that he really doesn”t want to go? I study him for a moment, recalling how I read that he”s something of a recluse, other than select charity events.
He even told me that he doesn”t go out much unless it involves business. From the way he”s acting, I get the impression that hanging out at a ramshackle seafood restaurant on a random Monday night isn”t typical.
He takes my hand and kisses my fingers. ”Actually, let”s go, I”m hungry too.”
I wait for him to make a sexual innuendo joke, but he doesn”t. That scores a point with me.
We hold hands as we walk to the car. I”m wondering why he”s being so affectionate when I was the one to run out of his house Sunday morning. I start the car, by pushing the button on the dash—it”s so high-tech compared to my old clunker.
”You look good in this. Do you like it? How does it drive? My guy at the dealership said it would be perfect for you. Safe and sexy.”
I navigate out of his driveway. ”It”s a great car. Like, the best I”ve ever driven. But I”m still not sure. I wasn”t expecting this. And I”m still quite reluctant to accept such an expensive gift. I still want to give it back.”
”I know. But you shouldn”t worry about me. I have the money to give you a present like this. I didn”t want you to be unsafe in your car.”
I merge onto one of the main roads. This whole conversation is suspiciously like something I”d read in a romance novel, which is why I”m skeptical of it. ”I”m sure you do. I”m sure the cost of this car isn”t even a drop in the bucket of your wealth. I”m just not used to having men give me gifts.”
”You should definitely get used to that if we”re going to spend more time together.”
This makes me frown. ”Why? Why should I get used to this? I don”t understand what you”re doing, Gabriel. I don”t understand why you”re being so nice to me, especially when I left your house so abruptly yesterday. Honestly, I wanted to apologize for that. I got pretty overwhelmed at the situation. Overwhelmed by you.”
He nods and doesn”t say anything for a few beats. We drive in silence, and we”re almost at the riverfront restaurant. I swear under my breath when a car almost cuts us off, and I see Gabriel using the invisible brake on the passenger side.
”I could sense you were overwhelmed. I saw it in your eyes when you woke up. I”ll admit to being a little overloaded, too.”
Of all the things that surprises me about Gabriel, this last statement is possibly the most shocking. ”What? Why? Why were you overwhelmed?”
He shifts in his seat, as if I”ve asked him a question that is deeply personal.
”Probably for similar reasons as you.”
Because there”s an intense connection, one I”ve never felt with another man? Because of our off-the-charts attraction? Because, although I know this relationship is all wrong and won”t last, I can”t help but want to be near him?
Surely he”s not feeling those things, too. Or is he? The very idea makes my pulse quicken.
I pull into the parking lot of the restaurant. The place looks busy, but not packed. I kill the engine and turn to Gabriel. I sense that he just revealed something important, and I want to explore it. But I also don”t want to sit in the car and have an awkward conversation, plus I haven”t eaten all day.
My stomach rumbles loudly and I put a hand over my stomach. ”Do you mind if we discuss this more inside?”
I feel ridiculous for being so formal with him, considering his tongue, fingers and everything else have been places no other human has explored.
”Let”s get some food in you.”
We don”t hold hands as we walk into the restaurant. That”s okay with me, because this is a reporter hangout, and I”m not sure I would want people to see me with him. But since he is near me, I miss his touch. Desperately. It”s a conundrum, almost like torture.
I approach the hostess station and tell her we want a table for two. I half expected Gabriel to step in and command the situation, but he holds back, watching me.
”Sure thing,” she chirps. Then her eyes go to Gabriel. They linger on him for a few seconds and she whirls around, almost as if she doesn”t want to acknowledge his presence.
Gabriel seems not to notice. I follow her, wondering what that was all about. I suppose it is possible that since Gabriel”s family is so well-known in the city, many people recognize him. But a little voice inside me also wonders if he knows her for other reasons.
He must know many women in this city.
That”s ridiculous, I tell myself. If he really had slept with someone here and had an issue, then surely, he would have told me, or said he didn”t want to come here at all. He”s an adult, and it doesn”t seem as though he”s incapable of talking about his feelings like so many other men.
I”m just being paranoid.
We sit at a sturdy wooden table on the dock. There are a few people eating nearby, but thankfully, none of them acknowledge us.
A waitress shows and she doesn”t treat Gabriel any differently, which eases my mind. I guess I half expect every woman to flirt with him because he”s so handsome. She tells us that the house special tonight is their signature margarita, and Gabriel raises an eyebrow.
”Tequila,” he purrs.
”On a Monday?”
”Let”s be wicked.” He turns to the waitress. ”We”ll take two, with your best mezcal. And we”ll start with a dozen raw oysters.”
She nods and walks off.
”Sorry, I didn”t ask. Do you like oysters?”
I scrunch up my face. ”I”ve never had them. Never been brave enough to try them.”
”Tonight”s the night, blondie. I love them. Used to come here a lot in college, actually. They have the freshest seafood. I haven”t been here in years.”
”Why not?” It”s like I”m slipping into reporter mode.
He shrugs. ”I don”t get out much. If it”s not business, I prefer to stay inside. When I entertain women, I do it at my house. I don”t usually want to deal with, ah, people.”
”So, what”s different about tonight? About me?” I feel bold asking him these questions.
He bites his lush bottom lip and leans in. ”Riley, I”m not one to play games. I like you. I”m attracted to you. I want to spend more time with you. That”s all. I wasn”t prepared to feel all that after a weekend, then when you left, I felt terrible about Friday night, the, ah, kidnapping. I don”t blame you for running away. I guess that”s also why I wanted to buy you the car. As a way to say I was sorry. And I”m here tonight because you said you wanted to pick me up and take me out. You looked so excited and happy about the idea that I couldn”t say no to you. Even if it is outside of my comfort zone.”
My mouth opens, then closes. I don”t know what to say to all that.
”You”re not used to anyone being straightforward with you, are you?”
I chuckle. ”No. I”m not used to having conversations like this. Or situations like we”ve had over the past few days.”
He smiles back, then gets serious again. ”I”m not sure where this is going. I”m not sure what to expect. I”ve had a lot of relationships in my lifetime, but this...” his voice trails off.
”It scares you.” I finish his sentence for him.
He nods and runs a hand through his hair, looking toward the slow-moving river.
I”m about to tell him that it scares me, too, but the waitress comes with our drinks and we take huge sips. The sour-sweet combination slides down my throat, and inside, I”m on fire with the knowledge that Gabriel wants to be with me. Maybe it”s just temporary, I remind myself, so I shouldn”t get too excited.
”Okay,” I say softly. ”I like everything you said. And agree. I feel the same way.”
He nods and grins. ”Good. Because I want to spoil you. I hope you”re okay with that.”
”I”ve never been spoiled by anyone.”
”Then it”s about time. I”m very good at accomplishing my goals, you know.”
I can tell that he”s dead serious. His eyes are blazing. I sit back, letting his words sink in.
I barely know this man. He”s a mafioso, for fuck”s sake. And I am the object of his desire, even if it”s just temporary.
”I want to change your mind about me,” he murmurs, his voice soft and low.
Our gazes lock and I feel as if I”m falling into the obsidian depths of his eyes. I”ve been with him for four days, and I”m already certain that I”ll never be able to move on after this.
This man will destroy me.
But before I can think any more about us, the waitress is at our table with the oysters. Gabriel”s happy smile and his enthusiasm for prepping them with lemon and horseradish for me is infectious, and I realize that his spoiling doesn”t necessarily involve money or objects.
It”s his affection and attention, and that”s what truly frightens me.