Chapter 8 The Morning
The Morning
Naomi
I'm in a world of trouble like I've never been before.
Why?
Because the man I just married has completely and thoroughly dickmatized me, and it's scary as fuck.
This is not how I envisioned this whole arranged marriage thing would go.
I expected resignation, maybe mutual respect if I was lucky, perhaps even companionship over time.
I never expected to be lying in bed the morning after my wedding feeling like I might actually be able to have everything I've ever wanted.
The morning light filters through the gauze curtains of our suite, painting everything in soft gold.
I can hear the sounds of the French Quarter waking up below—the distant clatter of delivery trucks, the call of street vendors, the faint music that seems to emanate from the very stones of this city.
"Ready to make the call, beautiful?" Gabriel asks me as I take another bite of the most incredible omelet I've ever tasted.
He ordered room service while I was sleeping, complete with fresh fruit, café au lait that rivals anything from Café du Monde, and beignets that are still warm and dusted with powdered sugar.
This man thinks of everything.
"I'm sore," I whine playfully, shifting in bed to emphasize the delicious ache between my legs from all of our lovemaking last night. Gabriel was thorough in his promises, and my body bears the sweet evidence of his attention.
"And I will pamper that very sweet pussy of yours as soon as you're finished with the call," he promises, his voice dropping to that low register that makes me want to forget all about phone calls and responsibilities.
"Your request feels very transactional and not romantic at all."
"Marriage is nothing more than a series of daily transactions," Gabriel says with a philosophical shrug, settling back against the headboard with his own coffee. "Although I definitely prefer the ones that happen at night."
I roll my eyes, but I'm smiling. "Whatever, LaRoche."
"Listen, I know you think I have some ulterior motive in having you call your friend, but it's not entirely what you think," he continues, his expression growing more serious.
"Sure, would it be helpful to have Hunter Middleton, with his kind of influence, on our side in a potential war with your father?
Hell, yes. But more importantly, I know that you miss your friend. "
"And how would you know that?"
"Because in the few times I checked in with you while you were living in LA, Megan was all you ever talked about.
Your face would light up when you mentioned her, and you'd get this wistful tone in your voice when you described your friendship, the things you did together, the way she made you laugh. "
He hands me my cell phone, and I stare at it like it's a live grenade that might explode in my hands.
"What about my breakfast?" I ask, stalling for time because I know this conversation is going to be one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.
"I think you can eat and talk. You're excellent at multitasking." He grins, the expression turning suggestive as he licks the corner of his mouth in a way that reminds me of exactly how good I am at doing multiple things at once.
I can't help but smile back, remembering the creative ways we spent our wedding night, the things Gabriel did to me and made me do to him that left us both gasping and satisfied.
I finally accept the phone, but I hesitate, looking at Gabriel with something that might be vulnerability. "I need some privacy for this. It's going to be one of the hardest conversations I've ever had."
"Of course." He kisses my forehead gently, his lips warm and reassuring against my skin. "I'll grab a shower and give you all the time you need."
As I watch my husband's naked form walk toward the bathroom, I call after him impulsively.
"Oh, and LaRoche?"
"Yeah?" He turns, eyebrows raised in question.
"It's not going to take me long to figure out. I already love you, stupid."
The smile that spreads across Gabriel's face is radiant, transforming his usually controlled expression into something young and hopeful and completely unguarded. It's the smile of a man who's just been given something he never dared hope for.
"You'll say anything to get some more of this dick, won't you?" he teases, gesturing at himself with mock arrogance.
I grin back at him. "Anything."
Before I can dial Megan's number, Gabriel suddenly chucks my phone across the room, swoops me up in his arms, and pins me down on the bed with predatory grace.
"What about my call?" I'm laughing hysterically as he covers my body with his, his skin warm and solid against mine.
He flips us both over so that I'm straddling his hips, his hardness already pressing insistently against my core, evidence that our night of passion hasn't dimmed his desire for me at all.
"Do it later, Naomi," my husband growls, and hearing him say my chosen name with such possessive desire makes me instantly wet.
Three hours later, after we've exhausted ourselves thoroughly and I'm boneless with satisfaction, I finally retrieve my phone from where Gabriel threw it and dial the number I've been avoiding for months.
It rings twice before she picks up.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she says flatly when she answers the phone. “What do you want?”
I nervously chuckle, feeling almost as if I’m sinking through the floor. “Wow,” I say with a faux sense of levity. “You were never this mean when we lived together.”
“I’m going to grab that shower now,” Gabriel whispers, kissing me on the cheek. “You’ve got this.”
But my smile drops after I hear Megan respond with, “That was before I realized you had a habit of standing by while your father kidnapped me and tried to kill the man I love.”
I pause for a moment, not knowing how to respond to that. She’s right, of course.
“I deserved that,” I finally say, my voice low and hopefully humble-sounding. “But no, I’m not calling because of my father. And I don’t know anything about him trying to hurt Hunter.”
She lets out a cold laugh of disbelief.
“You don’t know because you choose not to know,” she says to me. “You’re happy to bury your head in the sand, aren’t you? Just like you did when your father held me against my will for days, and you did nothing. Have you conveniently forgotten that?”
“I apologized for that, Megan,” I say with sincerity.
“You apologized?” she repeats, her voice rising with disbelief. “You think saying sorry is enough for what that man put me through?”
“No,” I admit, with shame in my voice. “But it’s a start. And I can’t explain myself without sounding like a complete spineless bitch, but… my father has a power over me that I’m still trying to break free from.”
“And how’s that going?” she asks. “Because last I heard, you were still living under his damn roof.”
“I’m not,” I blurt out. “As of yesterday.”
“Not interested, Naomi.”
Ugh, this conversation is going just like I thought it would–badly. But I know Gabriel is ear hustling in the bathroom, and I’ve got to try. He can’t think he’s married to a completely spineless woman.
“Megan, wait—I got married.”
“To the gangster?” she asks, emotionless.
Immediately, I feel defensive of him. “That’s a very cliché way to describe Gabriel.”
“I’m just going off what you told me about him. You swore up and down that you’d never marry him, that your father was forcing you into it, and now you’re saying you chose to go through with it?”
I exhale heavily. “He cares about me.”
“So?”
“And…” I hesitate. “I care about him, too. I mean, when I think back on it, Gabriel’s the only person who’s ever really listened to me, the only one who’s protected me. Even my own family never cared what I wanted.”
“I thought Gabriel didn’t want to marry you either.”
“He… changed his mind.”
“Or maybe he didn’t have a choice.”
I sigh. Megan doesn’t get it, but why should she? The situation is complicated.
“Gabriel has different views about his family obligations than I do. He wants to rebuild his family’s reputation, and I… I’m supporting him in that.”
“Let me get this straight,” she says, her tone sharp. “You hated him. You resented your father for forcing this arrangement. And now, out of nowhere, you’re suddenly all in on supporting his mission?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“No, I don’t understand. Because the woman I knew, the friend I thought I had, would have never let herself be manipulated like this.”
“I was pretending to be someone else back then.”
“Or maybe you’re pretending to be someone else now.”
There’s a long, heavy silence between us.
I’m doing everything I can to hold back the tears. I don’t want to become an emotional mess on this call. That wouldn’t be fair to her when she’s the injured party.
“I don’t expect you to understand everything today, Megan,” I say. “I just wanted to apologize again and tell you my news.”
“After all this time? After everything?” She lets out a dry laugh. “So what, you’ve had some kind of epiphany that you suddenly want to mend fences? Now you want to fix our so-called friendship?”
“I never stopped wanting to fix it.”
“Oh yeah? Then how come this is the first time I’ve heard from you in months? You called me about your weird-ass mafia wedding, but you never once picked up the phone to ask about my son.”
I inhale sharply. “I… I didn’t think I had the right to.”
“You don’t.”
I’m almost at a complete loss for words.
“You truly hate me, don’t you?” I whisper, fighting back the tears.
She doesn’t answer, which tells me a lot about the state of our friendship.
“I’ll say one final thing before I let you go, Megan. I need you to remember that you’re not the only one who comes from a fucked-up family.”