Chapter 20
TWENTY
ZALEA | FLORENCE
There’s something magical about waking at the crack of dawn, birds chirping outside my window, rose-pink light spilling through the curtains, and a delicious ache lingering between my thighs. If last night is anything to go by, Italy has turned Gabriel and me into something dangerously insatiable.
“I’ll never get tired of him,” I mumble into my pillow, smiling to myself.
“I hope you’re talking about me, because being your first thought of the day is flattering.”
Gabriel’s voice drifts from across the room, and I freeze.
Slowly, I lift my head and peer at him through the curtain of my hair. He’s sitting in the lounge chair by the window, already dressed in a crisp white linen shirt, navy chinos, and black leather loafers. He looks entirely too put-together for this hour.
“Is there a reason you’re in my room this early?” I mutter, pushing my hair back. “And dressed like that?”
He shrugs, mouth twitching with amusement. “I missed you,” he says, winking. “And I want to take you out on a date.”
“We were just on a date yesterday.”
“This will be a better date,” he replies confidently.
I sit up, dragging the sheets with me. “How so?”
“I want to take you to the Amalfi Coast,” he says. “Let you do some damage to my card in Positano. Buy yourself a new wardrobe now that you’ll have a closet to fill.”
I narrow my eyes. “We could do damage to your card here in Florence. Why Amalfi?”
He glances at his phone, casual as ever. “Why not go on a spontaneous adventure? Just us?”
A weekend getaway in Positano with Gabriel does sound tempting. Crystal water, sunlit cliffs, shops filled with beautiful clothes and accessories. It’s the kind of indulgence fantasy-Zalea would say yes to without hesitation.
But I can’t go.
“I’m supposed to meet with Giovanna and the rest of the students today,” I remind him. “We’re discussing the assignment she gave us.”
“Don’t worry about Giovanna,” he says, standing. “I cleared it with her last night.”
I blink. “Why are you talking to my professor behind my back?”
“Technically,” he counters, tossing his phone lightly into the air and catching it again, “she spoke to me first, in Rome.” He unlocks his phone and reads from the screen. “She told me to tell you—Il mondo è il tuo miglior insegnante.”
I laugh, his horrible pronunciation is almost cute. “What the hell does that mean?”
“According to Google Translate,” he continues. “She’s saying the world is your best teacher.” He lifts a brow. “So what do you say?”
I roll my eyes and toss a pillow at his head but he catches it easily. “Fine,” I sigh. “Can you grab us breakfast while I get ready?”
“So demanding,” he murmurs, tossing the pillow onto the foot of my bed. “I’ll be back with food in thirty minutes. Get ready.”
An hour later, we’re in Gabriel's convertible with the top down, wind whipping through my hair as we wind along the scenic roads toward the Amalfi Coast. It’s a six hour drive, but leaving as early as we did means we should arrive by early afternoon.
Comfortable silence settles between us until Gabriel’s phone rings through the car speakers. He taps a button on the dash.
“Yes?”
Someone really needs to teach him how to answer a phone properly.
“Hey boss,” a male voice says. “Just wanted to let you know everything with the property purchase has been handled. Antonio will drop off the keys closer to the possession date.”
“Thanks, Reid.”
Reid.
As in the same Reid Gabriel had mentioned before?
Gabriel clears his throat and shoots me a quick glance. “You’re on speaker by the way,” he says, “and Zalea’s with me.”
There’s a brief pause. “Well hello there, Zalea,” Reid says warmly, sounding amused. “I’ve heard great things about you. I’m sure Gabriel’s told you all about me.”
“Actually, no,” I say, curiously. “He only mentioned you’re the one arranging the high-end reservations.”
A theatrical gasp fills the car. “Gabriel, I am so much more than that,” he scolds. “I searched global surveillance footage to find you, Zalea, because he was two seconds away from crashing out.”
“Alright, Reid. That’s enou—”
“I booked his hotel,” Reid barrels on, “but that was after tracking down where you would be staying in Florence—per his request—and yes, I may have secured a reservation for you two along the way, but now he’s got me researching fertility clinic—”
“Enough.” Gabriel’s firm voice cuts through the car. “You’ve signed numerous NDAs which you’re currently violating.”
“But it’s Zalea,” Reid says, softer now. “And you told me she knows everything.”
“Apparently not,” I say, folding my arms and turning toward Gabriel. “Why is Reid researching fertility clinics?”
When Gabriel doesn't answer, Reid lets out a low whistle. “Yiiikes,” he whispers. “I’ll see myself out of this conversation. Lovely meeting you, Zalea.”
The line disconnects and silence floods the car again, except this time it’s anything but comfortable. I stare at Gabriel until he glances at me from the corner of his eye.
“Well?” I prompt.
“Well what?” he says, gaze returning to the road.
“Why does someone who doesn’t want kids have his assistant researching fertility clinics?”
His grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles paling. “Because if you want children,” he says carefully, “ you should have the best clinic overseeing it.”
I tilt my head. “Fertility clinics don’t oversee pregnancies, Gabriel. They help you get pregnant.”
“Oh.” He pauses. “Okay.”
I study him, unsure whether that was genuine ignorance or neatly packaged deflection. Either way, I recognize the wall, and I know better than most what it feels like to be pushed when you’re not ready to talk.
So I let it go.
“Okay,” I say simply.
He glances at me again, brows drawn as though he expected me to press harder. But I don’t. I turn back toward the greenery rushing past us, letting the wind swallow the tension instead.
For now, I’ll drop it.
Sometimes giving someone space is the loudest kind of understanding there is.