95. Riley
NINETY-FIVE
Everything is still.My breathing, Gabriel”s face, the very air that surrounds us.
”What?” I whisper.
His gaze falls to his cocktail glass. ”I”ve been doing a lot of thinking.”
”And you don”t think you love me anymore?”
He shakes his head. ”I love you too much. Love you way too much to put you through the insanity that is my father. Love you too much to force you into a lifestyle that you don”t want, and aren”t cut out for.”
I glance around, at the glowing blue pool, and at the giant mansion. My mouth is suddenly dry, and I struggle to swallow. What should I do now? Beg him to stay with me? Scream out of pure frustration? Walk over and slap his face?
I want to do all three.
But I can”t move a muscle. I”m frozen from shock.
”You can keep the car and anything I”ve given you, of course. And if you”d like to stay here tonight, that”s fine. I understand why you wouldn”t want to drive at this hour.”
He”s speaking as if he”s summarizing a business deal. My mouth hangs open.
”I”ll also provide security for you as long as this Russia situation is ongoing. If you”d rather live in a condo with security, I can move you somewhere downtown in one of the buildings I own. I”d prefer that, actually, because it would be easier?—”
I interrupt him. ”Are you breaking up with me and trying to dictate where I”m going to live? Are you for real?”
”I only want you to be safe.” He can”t look at me. His posture is terrible, all hunched as if he”s wounded. Maybe he is, but I don”t give a fuck.
I stand up, my eyes swimming with tears. ”You”re fucking crazy, you know that? You lead me on, tell me I”m your goddamned soul mate, and then you do this?”
He stands and takes a step toward me, imploring me with those smoldering eyes of his. ”I”m sorry,” he says in a hoarse voice. ”This is for the best, for you.”
That one statement makes me so furious that I smack him across the face. The sound is satisfying, but the sensation of my palm hitting his skin isn”t. It makes me feel terrible, and tears spill from my eyes.
”Why do you think you can make decisions for me? How do you know what”s best? Go to hell.”
I leave a shocked Gabriel standing in his luxury backyard and stomp out, wishing I”d never come to Florida, that I”d never taken a job as a crime reporter, that I never met Gabriel Greco.
That I”d never fallen in love with him.