Chapter 3
3
CELIA
U nsure what else to do with myself, I prepared for bed. The bathroom was inviting, with warm stone walls, a huge sunken tub, and a rainfall shower with multiple spigots and room for more than one.
I was somehow not surprised to find the bathroom had been well prepared for me, with an array of toiletries set out and clean clothing already hung in one of the two enormous walk-in closets. The other was clearly Gabriel’s, filled with dark suits and crisp shirts. It even smelled like him.
In my closet, there was a minimalist wardrobe already hanging neatly: soft cashmere tees, several pairs of jeans and dress pants, and several dresses that ranged from skimpy black to a ball gown. I ran my fingertips over the silky, pale blue fabric of the dress before I pulled away.
Gabriel must be determined that I would have whatever I needed not to embarrass him in my role as his “wife.”
I showered, washed my hair, changed into a soft t-shirt and some shorts. When I walked into the bedroom, I stopped in the doorway, feeling suddenly shy.
Gabriel was seated at the desk once again. He was leaning back in his chair, frowning at the report he was reading.
My heart pounded desperately, even though he was still. But I had nowhere to run; this marriage was my best escape at the moment.
I looked around the room that was supposed to become my bedroom too, trying to ground myself in the details. A grand four-poster bed dominated the room, and if it weren’t for the fact I’d have to sleep beside Gabriel, the plush bedding would’ve been irresistible. The walls were painted a deep emerald green, and the art work on the walls and the fire in the marble fireplace filled the room with a sense of warmth.
Gabriel sat at his ornate mahogany desk, his dark hair catching the light as he worked intently, papers spread before him. He was striking, his tall, well-built frame radiating charisma despite his cold demeanor. I found myself studying him, feeling as if the way he ignored me might drive me mad.
Finally, unable to suppress my curiosity any longer, I spoke up. “So…what are the wedding plans?”
He glanced up, his expression inscrutable. “Did you find a dress you liked when the seamstress met with you today?”
“Yes. And…she brought many other clothes. Thank you for that.”
His gaze swept over the clothes I was wearing. I felt suddenly naked, and I offered him a smile that probably did nothing to mask the way I crossed my arms over my chest. I expected some barbed comment about needing me to look respectable as his wife, or some little dig about my weight, like Royal or my father would’ve offered.
“You’re welcome. I’ll ask your father to have your clothes and belongings packed up and delivered here, if you like.”
“Thank you.” The sudden realization I’d never return to my bedroom struck me suddenly, and harder than it should have, given how badly I’d wanted to escape. But I’d had no idea I’d never return when I left.
He nodded and returned to his work.
“What about the rest of it?” I asked anxiously. I couldn’t help but think about the stories I’d heard about mafia weddings in our city.
First there was the ceremony.
Then the reception.
Then the Obsidian Club.
He looked up wearily, scrubbing one tanned hand over his face. “The ceremony is at four o’clock. We’re having an evening wedding. I intend to host it at my hotel, because I am a control freak. And because my men are very comfortable getting snipers on the next rooftop for our security.”
“Oh, lovely.” I managed a neutral tone.
“Is there something you want?” he asked, and I thought he was being cruel until he added, “I left the details in the wedding planner’s hands. Given the short notice, I intended to accept whatever flowers and decor she could find. Is there something you wanted in particular, though? I’ll try to make it happen.”
Well, that was unexpected. “Oh…no. I’m sure whatever she puts together will be lovely.”
“It’s not as if either of us dreamt of this day,” he said. “I know women usually plan for their wedding day. I’m sorry it won’t be what you dreamt…or to a man of your own choosing.”
I didn’t know what to say. I felt embarrassed as I peeled the covers back. It seemed so strange to sleep next to him.
Though he was still at his desk and showed no sign of coming to bed.
He flipped a switch at his desk, and the room was suddenly in darkness except for the glow of the bedside lamps and of the lamp at his desk.
“Thank you,” I said.
“If you want anything, tell Patricia tomorrow.” He frowned down at his iPad.
“Anything?” I asked teasingly. “You already put a motorcycle on hold.”
He looked up at me. “What exactly do you want from me right now, Celia?”
“Nothing,” I said quietly. “You’ve been…” Thoughtful? Kind? I stumbled over how to describe him. He said all the right things, but there was a cold impatience at the same time. “I’m appreciative.”
He glanced at me, as if that surprised him. “There are sleeping pills in the cabinet if you need them.”
I nodded, then tried to curl up under the sheets. Did he need them? Or did he find a reason to dose guests to his room with sleeping pills? I couldn’t stop my mind from racing as I tried to make sense of Gabriel.
Besides, just laying here felt so odd. I usually read before bed or scrolled through social media endlessly on my phone. Honestly, I wanted to pretend I always read before bed, but it was pretty much fifty-fifty between reading and social media.
Instead, I was alone with my whirling thoughts. I just wanted to know what was coming over the next few days. If it was true that there would be depraved acts required of me at the club, I wanted to prepare myself. Gabriel seemed as if the wedding barely mattered to him, but I also knew he would be disappointed and annoyed with me if I showed poorly. He wanted a good little dog trotting around the ring at the kennel club.
My brain helpfully conjured a mental image of what that might translate into at a sex club, because what I needed to be haunted by when I couldn’t sleep was a mental image of myself with a butt plug tail swaying along and perky little ears. My brain is a total asshole.
I needed to know what was coming for both our sakes, so I sat up again. “What about after?”
“After the wedding?” He seemed slightly irritated with the question. “You’ll live here in peace and not have to deal with Royal or your father. I hope you’ll let me live in peace as well.”
Well, that was pointed.
“So, no honeymoon then?” I joked lightly, trying to break through his stoicism.
He turned to me, the intensity in his gaze sharpening. “I might gag you if you don’t stop talking.”
I smiled nervously, taken aback. “I don’t always talk this much.”
He leaned back, considering me for a moment. “You’re simply nervous.”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“You were always chatty when we were kids.”
“I’m sorry.” I regretted the apology as soon as it crossed my lips. Why was I apologizing for who I’d been as a child?
A glimmer of something I couldn’t quite place flickered in his dark eyes.
I lay back down, pressing my lips together tightly, determined to stay silent.
GAbrIEL
I felt her studying me, attempting to dissect my intentions. But when she was so focused on me, her own emotions flickered clearly across her face, and I found myself wanting to study her right back.
Celia was surprising.
I generally hated surprises. Most people whose careers involve making enemies share a similar distaste for unexpected events. We really abhor a surprise party.
With some difficulty, I remained focused, my thoughts drifting toward the looming question of what to do about her father.
She shifted in the bed, rearranging pillows. For a second, she glanced at me, her lips parting. But she sank back into the pillows instead.
The obedience was surprising too, but then, she was clearly a bright woman. I had no doubt she’d obey my orders…unless I commanded her not to knife me in the back.
I decided to break the silence. She so desperately seemed to want to. “What should we do about your father?”
She sat up on her elbows and met my gaze evenly. “You should kill him.”
Her straightforwardness amused me. “Bold plans for a woman who wouldn’t get blood on her hands.”
“Do you think I wouldn’t? For the right cause?”
“I’m not entirely sure what to make of you, Celia.” I leaned back in my chair, throwing down my pen. She was more interesting than any contract.
“Are you going to fall in love with your wife?” she asked, a playful lilt to her voice, then bit her lip as if she’d gone too far for her own comfort.
But I was amused by her teasing. Celia was nervous. Terrified, even. And yet, she was so fucking clever at figuring out a path forward.
She was intriguing.
“Do you think you know how to play the game in our world? I’m not entirely convinced.”
“Well, maybe you should take me more seriously. I’m about to be your wife.” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “Shouldn’t a wife help her husband—and vice versa?”
“Tell me how you’d help me, Celia.”
“First, let me see Dante and Luca. They deserve to know I’m safe.” Her tone became more serious, the lighthearted banter gone.
I knew she wouldn’t ever trust me completely. With everything that had transpired between us, I couldn’t blame her. But Luca and Dante’s safety was a means to endear myself to her.
Even though the three of them did not deserve to be reunited.
Individually, Celia, Luca, and Dante were all unruly and unpredictable and hard to control. The three of them united seemed like a real problem.
If Luca and Dante had made up when they were reunited, if we had reached them an hour later, the three of them might’ve slipped my grip entirely. I’d have been here alone while the three of them rebuilt their life in Los Cabos.
“Very well.” I rose from my chair, gesturing for her to follow. “But I expect you to behave.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, giving away how much this small concession on my part was unexpected.
She must expect I’d be cruel to her, but I was willing to give in to small things if they didn’t disrupt my plans.
My life would be easier if Celia were pliant. It seemed her father and brother had offered her very little kindness. I would break her if she proved willful…or perhaps just for fun. But for now, I had a feeling I could bring her under my spell by summoning some softness.
When we reached the door to the guest room, I turned the knob and let her in first, curious to watch the three of them reunited.
Dante shot up from his chair. Luca sat up in bed, relief lighting his features. They both looked like hell, as well they should. I’d beaten the fuck out of Dante myself after getting him away from Royal’s men. He’d come too close to getting Celia killed with his misplaced protectiveness.
The moment Celia stepped foot in the room, it was obviously those two dumb fucks were breathing for her and only her. They didn’t even register me.
Dante rushed toward her.
“Dante!” she cried, as he wrapped her in his arms as if he could protect her from the world.
But only I could protect her. The thought gave me a smug sense of power.
Luca lurked behind them, trying to look like he didn’t give a shit about anything in the world while also waiting patiently for his turn to touch her.
Dante lifted her up in his arms and carried her across the room to Luca. Luca held his arms out for her, and Dante transferred her to him like these two mafia brutes were playing with a baby-doll. What the fuck was happening?
Once she was settled into Luca’s lap, Celia hugged him carefully, mindful of his injuries. She made worried sounds about his wounds, and he admitted that he’d had a CT scan to make sure he didn’t have any lasting brain damage.
Though the way he looked at Celia made me think he definitely had some kind of lasting brain damage.
I leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold with an unexpected swell of jealousy. For all my plans, seeing her connected with other men stirred something within me that I hadn’t anticipated.
“Are you all right?” Luca murmured, pulling back to appraise her as Celia’s cheeks flushed. I couldn’t quite decipher the warmth in her eyes.
“I am,” she said, brighter than I’d ever seen her. She glanced toward me, then told them, “Now that I know you’re safe.”
“I told you they were fine,” I said dryly. “But don’t trust me. I’ll just be your husband in a few days.”
Luca’s hands knotted into fists. “Gabriel?—”
I raised my hand to check whatever new bullshit Luca had on tap. “Celia, time to go.”
I thought she might protest, but she nodded. “Good night,” she told Luca and Dante.
Her obedience surprised me. She certainly seemed like she had a spitfire side, but she was careful when she showed it.
I had a feeling that Celia didn’t start fights that she wasn’t sure she could win.
Except for when she threw herself at me to protect Luca.
I was musing over that memory as the two of us returned down the hall. She glanced back over her shoulder, clearly studying how Luca and Dante were locked in.
As soon as we were back in the room, she turned a bright smile on me. It transformed her face, lighting her eyes. “Thank you.”
God, that smile…she must be used to twisting men around her little finger. I nodded curtly.
“Go to sleep,” I told her gruffly. I wasn’t even sure why I was annoyed.
“Good night, Gabriel.” She looked at me for a second as if she were about to cross the distance between us and kiss me goodnight. Then sense must have prevailed, because she climbed beneath the covers.
I went back to work, working as silently as I could, moving my papers slowly. But the sound of her soft, even breathing soon reached me over the scratching of my pen.
She’d fallen asleep far more quickly than I would have expected. I thought she’d be afraid to fall asleep in my lair.
But she was curled up in my bed as if she felt absolutely safe.
And a strange sense, one I didn’t want to name, warmed at the thought.