18
LUCA BELLANDI
I walked Gabriela to her room and asked for a few minutes. I needed to finish a call with London before the phone interrupted us. She agreed, but I’d been alone for twenty minutes when I realized I’d used the day’s shortest conversation to put off the next one.
I didn’t regret the dance. I was afraid of opening the door, finding her waiting, and being unable to ask for what I’d asked for in the ballroom without concealing half of what I felt.
I draped my jacket over a chair and took off my tie. I was still wearing my shirt from the ball. Through the open window, I heard the first rumble of thunder over the lake. Wind lifted the curtains.
My phone vibrated again. I turned it facedown as someone knocked. Gabriela had knocked only once; I recognized her impatience before the second knock came.
I’d asked for a few minutes. She’d given me twenty.
I opened the door.
She stood in the hallway without her mask, still wearing the black dress. Strands of hair were coming loose. Her irritation didn’t make her any less beautiful. It made her more dangerous.
“We need to finish our conversation.”
I held the door.
“I took too long. I know.”
“And I came for an answer.”
“I thought you might be tired.”
“Then you should have asked.”
I moved aside. She walked to the middle of the room, her gaze passing over the bed before darting to the windows.
“Is the call over?”
“It’s been over for a while.”
“Then why did you leave me waiting?”
She glanced at the door I was still holding.
“If you want me to leave, say so now. I will.”
I let go of the handle. She waited, her dress brushing the floor, the mask gripped in her hand.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
Her hand relaxed. She set the mask on the dresser.
The window banged in the wind. I went to close it, and Gabriela held the curtain clear. The glass door beside it led to a covered balcony; rain was beginning to reach the marble by the balustrade.
“Still looking for a reason to send me away?”
“I’m trying to find one I’d want to use.”
She let go of the curtain. The latch clicked into place, muffling the wind.
“I’m not going to argue against myself to help you out.”
I held out my hand. She took it, her eyes still on mine.
Gabriela opened the glass door and stepped onto the sheltered balcony. Damp air flowed into the room. Still holding my hand, she beckoned me closer.
“You’ll get your dress wet.”
She glanced at the hem brushing the marble.
“Then don’t leave me standing here.”
I went to her. A gust drove raindrops beneath the roof, and I swore in Italian.
Gabriela laughed.
“I’ve never heard you say that in a meeting.”
“You’re not in all of them.”
I moved closer. She stopped laughing but held my gaze.
I took her by the waist.
“You’re provoking me.”
“For weeks now.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you.”
The rain grew heavier.
“I don’t want to stop kissing you again.”
“I haven’t asked you to stop.”
“I want to be with you. I don’t know how to promise you more than that tonight.”
“I’m choosing tonight, Luca. Not the rest of my life.”
“Gabriela.”
“Ask me.”
“Stay with me tonight.”
She touched my face.
“Yes.”
A raindrop ran down her cheek. I brushed it away with my thumb, but another took its place.
“Let’s go inside. You’re trembling.”
“It’s not just the cold.”
Gabriela caught the front of my shirt and pulled me close.
Something inside me gave way. I kissed her in the rain.
This time there wasn’t enough anger to hide my surrender.
Her mouth opened beneath mine, and my whole body answered.
I pulled her against me, my fingers spread across her bare back.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me as though she’d counted every interruption too.
I lifted her. She wrapped her legs around my waist, trusting me with her weight without hesitation. I carried her inside, out of the wind.
With her back against the wall, Gabriela unbuttoned my shirt. I kissed my way down her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips.
“You can still change your mind,” I said.
“So can you.”
“I won’t.”
“Then stop talking.”
I did.
I set her down. She closed the balcony door and came back to me. When my fingers found the fastening of her dress, she turned to help. Then she touched the scar on my shoulder and kissed it. I went still, surprised by the urge to close my eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I said.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m good.”
“I’m looking at a man who’s forgotten his shirt is open,” she said, touching my chest.
I laughed before I could stop myself. Gabriela helped me take the shirt off. The dress slipped to the rug; she picked it up and draped it over the chair. I lingered over the sight of her goose-pimpled skin and damp hair as she waited for my reaction.
“Beautiful.”
Her face softened. I led her to the bed and reached into the drawer for a condom. She pulled the pillow closer; lying beside her, I forgot what I’d meant to say when her fingers threaded through mine.
When we finally came together, there was more than desire. There was trust, and it frightened me in a way no physical danger ever had. Gabriela held my face.
“Look at me.”
I did.
I didn’t hide when she found her pleasure, or when my own control unraveled. I kept my forehead against hers, sharing her breath as the storm swept across the lake. Afterward, she rested on my chest. I ran my fingers through her damp hair.
“Is this part of the new rules?” she asked.
“These aren’t in writing.”
“Terrible risk management.”
“I’m starting to rethink a few methods.”
She smiled against my skin.
“I don’t want regrets tomorrow.”
“There won’t be any.”
“Or cold shoulders.”
I hesitated.
“I can promise I don’t regret this. The rest may take some learning.”
She raised an eyebrow, but drew my hand closer and laced her fingers through mine.
I kissed her slowly.
Hours later, after she fell asleep, I lay awake watching the rain ease against the windows. Her hand rested on my chest, as though she trusted me to be there in the morning. I knew I should feel the weight of the consequences. All I felt was peace.