Chapter 33 - Gabriel | Varazze
THIRTY-THREE
GAbrIEL | VARAZZE
Zalea reaches up and gently grabs hold of my cock. I’m already so close to coming, she won’t have to do much before I explode in her mouth. She holds my gaze as she slides me into her mouth, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve seen in my life.
“Do you taste yourself on me?” I ask, brushing my thumb over her cheek before I gently grab a fistful of her beautiful red hair.
She nods, then swirls her tongue over the head of my cock, using her hands to work my shaft at the same time. I lean my head against the elevator wall and close my eyes, savouring how fucking amazing Zalea’s mouth feels around me.
I’m seconds from releasing into her when she stops and releases me from her mouth with a pop. “I don’t remember telling you that you could look away, Gabriel.”
This girl is going to be the death of me.
I drop my head and hold her gaze, a bead of cum forming on the tip of my cock.
“I’m about five seconds away from blowing up all over that pretty face, Red,” I grunt. “So unless you want me leading you through the hallways of this hotel with my cum sprayed all over your face, now isn’t the time to play the power game.”
She giggles as her lips wrap around me again and she takes me as far back as she can manage, gagging over and over until I spill into her mouth on a groan. She looks up at me, eyes watery, and swallows everything.
I think it’s time to start ring shopping, because I’m never letting another man experience this.
I help her back into her dress and push the emergency stop to release it, the elevator moving again. When we reach our floor, we walk out of the sliding doors just as Zale and Alessia walk out from the staircase.
“Why are you two coming from the stairs?” Zalea asks.
“The elevator was broken…wait…it’s working again?”
Zale looks past us at the now closing doors, then ever so slowly his attention turns to us and pauses on Zalea’s roughed up hair and my open fly.
“Please,” he says, grabbing onto his stomach. “Don’t tell me you two were banging in the elevator and that’s why it wasn’t working.”
Zalea turns bright right. “O-of course not,” she stutters, but she’s always been a shit liar.
I slowly zip up my fly, trying to go unnoticed, but Zale is watching me like a hawk, angry eyes boring into me.
“You fucked my sister,” he growls, fists curling. “In an elevator?”
I smirk as I stare at him. “I’m also going to fuck her in our bed.”
Zale covers his ears and squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m going to be sick,” he groans, turning his back to us.
Zalea covers her mouth to try and hide her giggle but I catch it and take her hand, leading her toward our room.
“I hope you’re ready for round two,” I whisper in her ear as we unlock our room door and barrel in.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to just stay until you’re ready to leave?” I ask, arms wrapped around Zalea beside the rental car.
“I’ll be fine, Gabriel,” she says, laughing softly before pressing a kiss to my lips. “I just need to find something inspiring to paint for my assignment. I’ll take a picture of it and head home.”
“But why can’t we just wait?” I mutter, struggling to hide my pout. I hate every second she isn’t within reach.
“Because you two are unbelievably distracting,” she teases, jerking her head toward the other side of the car.
Zale is leaning against the passenger door, saying bye to Alessia by basically inhaling her face. It’s disgusting and unnecessary, but she seems to love it.
I sigh. “Promise you’ll be back home tonight?”
I hold out my pinky and she stares at it, eyebrows jumping up. “I can’t remember the last time we made a pinky promise,” she murmurs, looping her finger through mine. “I promise.”
I tug her closer and kiss her until we run out of breath, then rest my forehead against hers.
“Four more months,” I whisper.
She pulls back slightly. “What’s in four months?”
“Your birthday,” I say. “And if you don’t run off with another man before then, you’re officially all mine. Pact rules.”
Zalea’s head tips back, and she laughs so hard tears begin to pool at the corner of her eyes. I can’t remember the last time I saw her this happy.
“Gabriel,” she says once she catches her breath. “I’m already all yours. There is no other man.”
I already knew that, but hearing the confirmation come directly from her warms something in my chest.
“Alright, lovebirds,” Zale interrupts, waving as Alessia disappears down the street. “As much as I’d love to stand and watch you two chit chat, I’d like to get this drive with Grandpa Gabriel over with.”
Zalea snorts. “You’re just bored now that your girlfriend for the night is gone.”
“That too,” he admits, climbing into the passenger seat. “See you back at the apartment, sis?”
She nods and kisses me one more time. “See you.”
“I love you,” I tell her.
“I love you more,” she replies.
“I love you most,” Zale chimes in, blowing a kiss at us with his eyes squeezed shut.
I roll mine. “Time to get this child home.”
“I’m not a child!” he shouts as I start the engine.
Zalea’s laugh follows as I pull away.
“Drive safe,” she calls out.
“I will!” I promise.
Hours later, we’re back at the apartment and Zale is sprawled across the couch, scrolling through photos from the bonfire.
“I’m telling you,” he says, grinning at his phone, “there’s something so special about Italian women. Alessia was like a trojan battery, I could barely keep up by the end of the ni—”
“Zale,” I interrupt slowly from behind the kitchen island. “As much as we’ve reached some kind of trust, I don’t want to hear about your wild night just as much as you don’t want to hear about mine with your sister.”
“Bro,” he shouts, fake gagging. “We need boundaries.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” I mutter, as I stare down at the three texts I’ve sent Zalea since leaving her in Varazze—all unanswered.
“Still haven’t heard back from her?” Zale asks, watching me now.
I shake my head. “She’s probably driving,” I say, locking my phone and putting it down on the counter. “She doesn’t text and drive.”
“Have you tried calling her?” he asks, tossing his phone into the air and catching it.
I hesitate before answering. “No,” I say. “Should I?”
He scoffs. “I mean, you’re clearly worried. Just call her.”
I stare down at my phone for a minute before I decide he’s right. I pick up my phone, pressing her name. The line rings three times before it finally connects.
“Pronto?”*
I freeze. “Who’s this?”
“Questaè l’infermiera Anna dell’Ospedale Santa Viola, parla italiano?”*
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand, is there someone there that can speak English?”
There’s rustling, and muffled voices speaking in Italian before someone new comes on the line.
“Hello, this is Doctor Ricci from Hospital Santa Viola,” a smooth feminine voice says in English.
My heart stutters as I dig my fingers into the counter. “Why do you have my girlfriend's phone?”
“Ah. You are her partner? We’ve been trying to identify her.”
My blood runs cold and I begin to shake. Zale, who must be listening, sits upright, his face tight with concern as he watches me from the couch.
“Identify her?”
“She was involved in a car accident and is currently in the Emergency Operating Room. We need consent forms signed. Can you come immediately?”
The phone slips from my hand onto the counter and I stumble until my back hits the fridge, my vision blurring while my heart pounds recklessly in my chest.
“Gabriel?” Zale shouts, running over to me.
But all I can hear is the doctor repeatedly calling out for me, so I point to the phone and he runs over, pressing it to his ear.
“Hello? Is Zalea okay?” he asks. “Yes, I’m her brother. Is she alive?”
I slide to the ground, struggling to get enough air in my lungs.
“We’re on our way,” he says, ending the call and sliding both phones into his pocket before kneeling in front of me.
“Gabriel,” he says firmly, arms on my shoulders. “Look at me.”
I force myself to look at him, my eyes wide with panic as I struggle to breathe, and Zale does something I don’t expect.
He slaps me.
Hard.
Hard enough to knock the panic straight out of me.
“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, eyeing me as if I might hit him back. “But now isn’t the time for a panic attack. We have to get to that hospital quickly, and I need you to go back to doing your Formula One style driving. Okay?”
I nod, allowing him to help me to my feet as my chest heaves, before I snatch the rental key from the entrance table and run out with him.
Surprisingly, I don’t get pulled over as we speed to the hospital, following the GPS directions. It’s about forty minutes from the apartment, and on the way there we pass my wrecked convertible on the side of the road as it’s being attached to a tow truck.
The entire front end is caved in and the passenger side is flattened like paper. Whatever hit her was big.
“Holy shit,” Zale whispers as we pass it, and when he turns back to face the front I don’t miss the tremble that’s started to wrack his body.
“She’s okay,” I say, gripping the wheel so tight my knuckles ache. “She has to be.”
Hospital Santa Viola comes into view ahead of us and we barely get the car into park before we’re running inside.
“Zalea Evans,” I choke out at the front desk.
The woman behind the desk stares at me, confusion clouding her face as she says something in Italian that I don’t understand, and panic claws its way back up my throat.
“Please,” I manage. “She was just in a car accident.”
Before I lose what little control I have left, a woman in a white coat approaches us. My eyes drop instantly to the name stitched over her chest.
Dr. Ricci.
“Hi, how may I help you?” she asks.
“I think I was talking to you earlier,” I say. “My girlfriend, Zalea, was in a car accident.”
“You made it,” she says, relieved. “Please, come with me.”
She leads us down a hallway where we pass curtained bays, nurses moving quickly, and families sitting in stiff chairs with hollow expressions.
“Is she awake?” Zale asks beside me, his voice tight.
“She is under anesthesia,” Dr. Ricci replies. “There was internal bleeding, but we are controlling it.”
Internal bleeding?
The words barely register as we turn a corner, coming face to face with double doors. A red light that reads Emergency Operating Room glows above them and the doctor stops.
“Unfortunately, you cannot go further right now.”
The doors swing slightly as someone exits and disappears again. I try to look past the gap, desperate for even a glimpse of her.
“But,” Dr. Ricci continues, “as I mentioned on the phone, there are forms that must be signed.”
Her gaze shifts to Zale briefly before settling back on me.
“May I speak with you alone?”
My hands are shaking so badly I don’t trust my voice, so I nod.
Zale sinks into one of the nearby chairs, elbows on his needs, head in his hands, as I step aside with the doctor.
“I don’t believe I got your name earlier,” she says quietly, sliding her hands into her coat pockets.
“Gabriel Matthews,” I reply. “Is she going to be okay?”
She looks away for a moment. “Mr. Matthews,” she begins carefully, “your partner has a strong chance of surviving the surgery.”
I feel like I should be ecstatic, but something about the way she says it only spikes my anxiety.
“But,” she continues, and I feel the ground shift beneath me, “it is unlikely the fetuses will survive.”
For a moment, I don’t understand the words that come out of her mouth.
“The…what?”
She holds my gaze. “She appears to be approximately four months pregnant. With twins.”
The hallway feels like it’s tilting as I stare back at her.
“Twins?” The word breaks out of me. “You’re saying—”
My throat closes.
“—you’re saying she’s pregnant right now? And her babies…my babies…won’t survive?”
She watches me for what feels like a long time, a compassionate expression settling on her features.
“There is less than a twenty percent chance they will survive a trauma of this severity,” she says gently. “They would need a miracle.”
My heart splinters in my chest. Zalea is finally pregnant again, with two babies, and now she’s going to wake up and lose what she’s wanted more than anything.
I can’t breathe, or think, as I walk away from the doctor speechless and collapse on the chair next to Zale. All I know is that she’s behind those doors, and everything we didn’t get to say just multiplied into something unbearable.
* “Pronto?” = Hello?
* “Questaè l’infermiera Anna dell’Ospedale Santa Viola, parla italiano?” = This is nurse Anna from the Hospital Santa Viola, do you speak Italian?