111. Riley
ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN
”Dowe really need all this stuff?” Now that we”re in the city”s nicest department store, I”m not so sure.
He takes my hand, his warm palm enveloping mine.
”We don”t need anything except each other, beautiful,” he says, bringing my hand to his lips for a kiss. My insides turn to mush at his words. No matter where we are and what we”re doing, this man still gives me butterflies. The fact that not only wants to be here but is entertaining all of my wild ideas I”ve been chattering about nonstop — like redecorating the living room — is shocking, but here we are.
”But if people want to buy us presents, we may as well point them in the right direction.”
I laugh. ”Speaking of directions, I have no idea where to even start.” The store is massive, spanning two floors, with everything from linens to lemon squeezers.
”This way, I think.” Gabriel steers us confidently toward the home goods section. Soon we”re wandering aisles filled with gleaming appliances, colorful textiles, and endless culinary gadgets. My eyes widen at a top-of-the-line espresso maker.
”Ooh, you need this for your office!”
Gabriel chuckles. ”We have two of those already, plus the one I bought for your condo.”
”Oh. Right.” I bite my lip. Sometimes I forget just how wealthy he is. As we check out a tablet for controlling smart home devices, I nudge him playfully. ”Is there anything you don”t already have?”
”You,” he murmurs, his hazel eyes smoldering. ”But that will happen soon. Why are we shopping when we don”t have a wedding date?”
I pause to wrap my arms around his neck. ”Next June?”
He scrunches up his face. ”That”s eleven months.”
”A Christmas wedding?”
”Hmm.” He reaches around me and rubs my back. ”That could work. You”d be mine quicker, so I like that idea.”
”Smooth talker.” I flush with pleasure. Gabriel takes every opportunity to remind me I”m the only thing he needs to be happy. I rise onto my tiptoes to kiss his cheek, which is dusted with dark stubble.
Wandering the seemingly endless store, I”m overwhelmed by the shiny displays and seemingly endless choices. I didn”t grow up with this kind of luxury. Hell, my mom was thrilled to be able to shop at Walmart and not the Dollar Store on the rare occasions when my dad brought home a regular paycheck.
The bright lighting glints off shiny appliances packed with more buttons and settings than I can fathom. My sandals give off a muted sound as I pad on the polished wood floors. The faint scents of cinnamon and vanilla tempt me toward the gourmet food section. Gabriel”s sturdy hand envelops mine, his thumb rubbing soothing circles, keeping me anchored amidst the opulence. I squeeze back gently, reminding myself I already have everything I need right here beside me.
We browse through food processors and specialty wine aerators, debating the merits of each. Gabriel is surprisingly knowledgeable about culinary gadgets.
But I know my muscular, pasta-loving man couldn”t care less about fancy kitchen tools. This whole wedding registry thing seems silly. Gabriel is right. All we need is each other.
Still, I”m loving this day of domestic bliss. I never dreamed I”d be nesting, playing house, with a man like him.
As we pass gleaming silver and china patterns, I halt. ”Should we be picking out stuff like this too?”
Gabriel shakes his head. ”I want you to have whatever you like, but I say we keep things simple. I”ve got stacks of china from my mother, and my grandmother. One set is from the nineteenth century, from Italy. But,” he says, raising an eyebrow, ”I suggest we do go buy one thing.”
”What”s that?”
”A new bed.”
I put down the ramekin set that I was inspecting. ”Why? Your bed is comfortable.”
He shrugs. ”I want something that”s... ours.”
He”s too polite to say something that only we have slept in together. I appreciate his candor and his idea.
”I like that plan. Do you want to stop by a furniture store?”
”Yeah, let”s do that. I know a guy. Let”s go.”
We leave the store and climb into Gabriel”s new car, a Porsche. The bodyguards are behind us, in a black SUV.
”I went to high school with the guy who owns this store. He”s turned the place into a high-end franchise,” Gabriel says, as he drives a short distance and pulls into a parking lot.
We”re on the city”s south side, in the most exclusive retail district. DOMAIN, the sign above the store reads.
”His name”s James. Has some nice stuff. At least that”s what my interior designer thinks.”
We park and head into the store. Once we”re inside, he slings his arm around my shoulders and kisses my cheek.
”God, I love you,” he growls.
I can”t stop smiling. Since I said yes to his marriage proposal, Gabriel”s been happier than I”ve ever seen him.
An older woman in an expensive-looking sheath dress greets us.
”Is James in today?” Gabriel asks.
The woman says no, he”s not, he”s out of the country. ”May I help you find anything?”
Gabriel smiles. ”We”re looking for beds. I think we”ll just poke around ourselves, if that”s okay.”
”Of course, sir. I”m happy to answer any questions.”
The place is massive and Gabriel and I wander through endless displays of sofas, bureaus, dining room tables... and finally, beds. There are no customers in the store, and Gabriel”s mimicking a man we saw on television the other night, making me laugh. Elevator music is playing a touch too loud, and that”s making me giddy, too.
”What do you think of this one?” he says, growing serious, pointing at a gothic-looking iron headboard. It”s done up with black bedding, and I can imagine it in his room. In our room. I glance at the price tag and it”s an eye-watering amount. More than I spent on my last car. More than I”ve spent on, well, anything except for my college tuition.
He jumps on the imposing bed and I stifle a laugh because I notice the sales lady staring, lips pursed, arms folded. She”s standing about twenty feet away, and I wonder if she knows who Gabriel is.
He doesn”t miss a beat. ”What are your delivery policies, ma”am?”
”A week at least.”
”A week.” Gabriel sits up and bounces on the edge of the mattress. ”Why so long?”
”We”re switching delivery companies.”
”I see. Riley?” He pats the mattress. ”Come.”
I sink next to him. ”I think we should pick out the mattress first.”
”You”re right. That”s the most important thing, isn”t it?” He cups my face and kisses my cheek, then stands up.
To my surprise, he kneels at my feet. I”m wearing a cute pink dress and white flip-flop style sandals. My toenails almost perfectly match the dress. Gabriel caresses my calf, trailing his hand down the back of my leg. He slips off one shoe.
”You have such pretty feet. Has anyone ever told you that? You could be a foot fetish model.”
I stifle a giggle. ”I”ll keep that in mind if the whole newspaper thing doesn”t work out.”
What”s he doing? He takes off my other shoe.
”My fiancé needs to try this bed out,” Gabriel says. ”I hope that”s okay.”
The sales lady nods sternly. ”Of course she does, and of course it is. I”ll be over near the front if you need anything, Mister Greco. This bed is extremely popular, by the way.”
So, she does know who he is.
Once she”s gone, I hiss ”Mister Greco,” and laugh while lying back. My head is on a black brocade pillow.
”I like the way that sounds coming out of your mouth,” he says.
”Mmmm.” He”s staring down at me, his head cocked. He moves from the side of the bed, to the bottom. ”Move a bit more into the middle.”
I oblige, grinning. ”Okay.”
”Hold onto the headboard rails.”
I do, my heart rate quickening.
”Do you like it? Does it feel comfortable?”
I nod, biting my lip.
He grins wickedly, then looks around. I do, as well. There”s no one in sight, not even the sour saleslady.
”Spread your legs for Mister Greco.”
I open my mouth, shocked and delighted. ”You pervert,” I whisper.
”Just a little,” he says, standing back to admire me. ”Wait, fan your hair on the pillow first.”
After I do that, I resume my position, holding onto the headboard.
”Your legs.”
I open them a little. With a grin, he begins to crawl onto the bed as if he”s getting on top of me. Giggling, I roll off and to my feet.
”I like this one.” I kiss his nose. ”Let”s see if we can get it sooner than a week.”
As we walk hand-in-hand to the front counter, I imagine our future in that expensive bed.
Lounging beneath cool sheets. Gabriel bringing me breakfast in bed. Passionate nights that leave us tangled together as we dream.
But then my steps slow. Can I really have lazy Sundays with a mafia don? The danger that seems to follow Gabriel makes me wonder if this simple domestic bliss is just a fantasy.
Gabriel notices my hesitation and squeezes my hand. ”What is it?”
I force a smile, not wanting to ruin the moment. ”Just thinking about logistics. Delivery dates and work schedules.”
He watches me for a beat too long before nodding slowly. ”We”ll make it work, Riley.”
As he pays for the bed, part of me worries we”re fooling ourselves. But one look at Gabriel”s handsome face and confident grin chases the doubts away. We”ve overcome so much already. The future is still unwritten, and I know he”ll keep me safe, no matter what.