118. Riley
ONE HUNDRED EIGHTEEN
Later,I lay in bed next to Gabriel. We”re at my place, and a quick check of my phone reveals that it”s three in the morning. Ugh. I”ve gotten virtually no sleep tonight, and I have to be sharp at work in the morning.
My mind races with thoughts of Antonio Martinez. His name churns through my brain like a mantra. It”s been lodged there all day and night, ever since Cath mentioned him.
After our wedding planning session fizzled, I went back to my condo. Gabriel had joined me hours later, saying he was sick of his father and needed space. Normally I”d love this — to me, the condo was cozy compared to his giant mansion.
He”d immediately noticed my silence. I”d told him that it was because I didn”t feel like going to work tomorrow. He”d pulled me close and asking what was wrong. But I couldn”t bring myself to tell him everything Cath had said.
Now, I bury my head in his chest and try to find comfort in his steady heartbeat. He presses a kiss to my forehead, his hand soothingly rubbing circles on my back.
”It”s okay, babe. Whatever it is, we”ll handle it together,” he says softly, his sleepy voice cutting through the darkness. ”You worried about work?”
But how can we handle something like this together? How can I ever possibly be a part of a world where evil men like Antonio Martinez exist? My mind is a blur of conflicting thoughts and emotions. If he”s evil, and Gabriel is doing business with him...
No. I can”t go down that path.
Gabriel seems to sense my angst and shifts slightly, his nose nuzzling my hair and his mouth near my ear. ”Riley, please talk to me. I can”t help you if you don”t tell me what”s going on. You were so quiet all night, and I know it”s not because of work. You”re reporting a story that you love, about the city”s symphony.”
Damn him for being so observant of my schedule and my job...
I take a deep breath, my voice barely above a whisper. ”Cath told me about Antonio Martinez. About who he really is.”
Gabriel”s sigh is long. ”What did Cath say, exactly?”
I explained everything. His grip on me tightened.
”I thought we were trying to go legit. I thought we were moving past this,” I said, my voice trembling. ”I thought you were going to tell me everything.”
Gabriel was silent for a long while, so long that I thought he was asleep. I ruminated about how he”d kept this important detail from me. How could he? We”d pledged total honesty.
Then, a terrible thought came to me: I was also keeping a secret from Gabriel.
Beckett.
I”d never told him that Beckett had been creepy to me. Never told him about the weird encounter I had when Cath and I were out for cocktails that night. And I certainly didn”t tell him about the text I”d gotten. Come to think of it, I”d had a couple of hang-up calls from an unknown number lately.
I”d written them off as wrong numbers, people who called me for a story and changed their mind, or spam calls.
But...
What if they weren”t?
My mind spins and I begin to panic. Gabriel”s voice in the darkness brings me back to reality.
”We can”t change the past, Riley,” he says quietly. ”This is who I am, and we have to make the best of it. But I will promise you this: I will do everything I can to make sure that this really is our last deal. You just need to be patient while I handle it. It”s a lot of money.”
”I don”t care about the money,” I hiss.
”I know you don”t.” His tone is louder, sharper. ”But this isn”t only about you. This is about the hundreds, if not thousands, of people I employ, in several legitimate businesses. It”s about the charities I support. This isn”t simple.”
Now it”s my turn to sigh. I begin to roll over and he stops me, trapping me in his arms.
”Riley, trust me when I say that no matter what happens with Martinez or anyone else from my world, your safety, and our future together is the most important thing.”
My throat tightens. ”Okay,” I finally say.
”Let”s try to get some sleep,” he says. ”Please?”
I nod and again rest my head on his chest, thoughts and worries swirling in my mind.
Early the next morning,with the help of a metaphorical IV drop of coffee, I say goodbye to Gabriel as he leaves for a meeting.
”Love you,” he says, kissing me.
”Love you too.”
He cups my face in his hands. ”It”s all going to be okay. Remember that.”
”I won”t panic unless you do,” I deadpan.
”Correct. Good girl.” He kisses my nose and leaves.
A half hour later, I drag myself to the paper. It”s one of those days where everyone in the newsroom is buzzing with energy. There”s a feeling in the air that”s reserved for big stories, election nights, and breaking news.
”What”s going on?” I ask Christopher, the editorial assistant, who is checking his lip gloss in a hand mirror.
He snaps it shut. ”Didn”t you hear?”
”Obviously not.”
”Come on, let”s go into the break room. This is serious shit.”
I”m not one for gossip. But I”m also procrastinating, not wanting to work. Reluctantly, I follow Christopher into the dismal little room, which smells like burnt coffee.
”God, it”s so gross in here.” Christopher opens the fridge. ”Look at these pigs!”
”I don”t care about the fridge. I have things to do. What”s the gossip?” I fold my arms.
Christopher shuts the fridge.
”You know Kevin?” he begins. I nod. Kevin”s one of the photographers. ”He”s been having an affair with Jennifer!” Christopher gasps, his eyes wide with delight.
I take a step back in shock. Jennifer”s the features editor. My editor. ”What?!”
”Yeah,” Christopher continues, ”everyone was just talking about it in the newsroom. Apparently there”s been rumors for a while that they”ve been sneaking around but no one had any proof until now.” He pauses for dramatic effect before continuing, ”I heard that Kevin”s wife caught them together at some fancy restaurant last night.”
My face contorts with horror. Kevin”s wife is also the paper”s advertising director. They”re all in their fifties.
”Yikes. Messy!” For once it”s nice to discuss someone else”s problems and set my own aside.
”In speaking of mess, what”s that on your finger, missy?” Christopher points to my hand, where my diamond sparkles even in the terrible fluorescent light.
I glance down at my ring and can”t help but smile. ”I”m engaged!”
”Oh my God!” He grabs my hand eagerly to inspect the rock. ”That is some serious ice. I guess Mr. Moneybags came through.” He gives me a pointed look.
I roll my eyes but don”t take his bait about Gabriel. I know Christopher thinks he”s an arrogant, domineering criminal. ”Yes, Gabriel proposed last weekend. We”re thrilled.”
”I bet you are, landing a billionaire.” Christopher releases my hand. ”Just make sure you get an airtight prenup, girl. Uh, and a really excellent bodyguard with a big gun. Wait. I”ll take that instead of a ring.”
I shoot him a smarmy smirk. ”I should get back to my desk. Lots of work to do on the symphony feature.”
Christopher waves me off dramatically. ”Fine, leave me for your precious orchestra story. But we”re celebrating this week! We need good news around this place. Lord have mercy.”
I return to my desk, buzzing from the massive quantities of coffee.
I try to refocus and open the folder on my computer containing my research on the city symphony. As I sift through donor records, press releases, and finance statements, a familiar name leaps off the page.
Antonio Martinez.
My stomach drops when I see he”s one of the biggest individual donors to the symphony. Over five million dollars in the past two years alone. He”s easily the biggest donor in the city.
Why is a convicted drug trafficker from Spain so interested in a symphony in Florida?
I lean back in my chair, chewing on my pen cap anxiously.
I can”t peel my eyes away from Antonio Martinez”s name in black and white on the donor list. Why would someone like him care about funding the arts? There has to be something more going on. Is this some sort of money laundering scheme?
I open a new browser window, digging deeper into Martinez”s connections to the city and the symphony. Worried that I”ll find a link to Gabriel.
But I don”t.
Yet the more I uncover, the more uneasy I feel. Huge donations, connections on the board, real estate investments. He has his hands in everything and the lines between his businesses seem blurred.
My phone buzzes with a text. I look down to see it”s just Cath. She”s sent a photo of a sexy zombie bunny Halloween costume.
Dare you to wear this to the rehearsal dinner! Gennaro”s head will explode
I chortle aloud, the hilarious text pulling me out of my funk. I imagine walking into a formal affair looking like a demented, slutty bunny.
Don’t tempt me with a good time
I”m still snickering when I sense a presence at my desk. I look up, startled to see Beckett leering down at me. He”s holding a giant bouquet of roses. They”re scarlet, the color of blood.
”How did you get in here?” I demand.
”What a rock!” His eyes fixate on my ring. ”I had no idea you were engaged. Congrats.”
His tone doesn”t match his words. My stomach lurches. This is so awful. ”You shouldn”t have,” I reply tersely about the flowers, not making eye contact.
He perches on my desk, invading my space. I stand abruptly, grabbing the roses. ”I”m late for a meeting with the photographers. Excuse me.”
I hurry to the photo lab, dumping the roses in the trash along the way.