15
GAbrIELA DUARTE
“Because I need you to stay.”
I looked at his empty hand beside the dresser. He’d let go of my suitcase, but he was still waiting for me to unpack it. The plea had reached me. I needed to know whether he wanted me here, or simply wanted to keep the work from stopping.
“The palazzo needs me.”
“I said I do.”
He stayed beside the dresser. His tie was off, the first button of his shirt undone. Exhaustion had worn away some of his usual coldness.
“Why?”
He ran a hand through his hair.
“I’ve explained.”
“You explained why my work matters. Not why you walked into my room as though I had no right to leave.”
“You have the right.”
“You just don’t want me to use it.”
“No.”
The answer came so quickly my heart beat harder.
“If I stay, what happens at the next meeting? Beatrice accuses me of something else, and I wait to find out whether you believe her?”
“It won’t be up to me.”
He took out his phone, wrote the proposal to the board, and turned the screen so I could read it before he sent it. An external team would assess my contract. Luca would have no part in the decision. I checked the wording and nodded. He pressed send.
“Legal will put forward three firms with no ties to the group. You review the names before we appoint one. We start making it official tomorrow.”
I blinked.
“You’re serious?”
“Yes. You can send the amendment to your own lawyer before you sign.”
“I want the proposal before I unpack.”
“Legal will send it as soon as it’s ready. I’m forwarding you the message now.”
I looked at the open suitcase, then at him.
“That takes care of the contract. Not the rest.”
He put the phone away.
“Beatrice hasn’t been back in my room. Security knows. She’ll be received in the work areas.”
“I don’t want a report on Beatrice.”
He came closer, stopping beside the suitcase. The sleeve of one of my shirts stuck out from under the handle. I looked at it. Easier than looking at his mouth.
“What do you want, Gabriela?”
“To finish what we started in Venice.”
“You wanted it too,” I added.
He went very still.
“Do you still want it?”
The air left my lungs. For the first time, he wasn’t hiding desire behind concern or guilt or responsibility. His eyes were fixed on my mouth. His restraint seemed almost tangible, stretched as far as it could go.
“You want honesty?” I asked. “Then come and get it.”
He closed the distance. One hand cupped the back of my neck, the other found my waist. There was no hesitation in the kiss, no tentative beginning.
Everything we’d stopped ourselves from doing collided in it: anger, desire, weeks of refusing to get this close.
I caught his shirt as he pulled me against him. His mouth was hot, firm, hungry.
I kissed him back just as urgently. I didn’t want to give him time to think. Thinking was how Luca built walls. I nipped his lower lip, and a low sound rose from his chest.
He moved me backward until my legs touched the bed. His hands slid down my waist and lifted me onto the space between the suitcases. I wrapped my arms around his neck. For a few seconds, I forgot the board, Beatrice, the clothes I still had to put away.
There were only his hands, and the fierce certainty that he wanted me, without pretending otherwise. He kissed my jaw, the tender place below my ear, the curve of my neck. I closed my eyes.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against my skin.
“No.”
“Gabriela.”
“I said no.”
He drew back far enough to see my face.
“No what?”
“Don’t stop.”
He kissed me again. His hand loosened at my nape. I pulled him closer by his shirt. A suitcase slid off the bed, and neither of us tried to catch it.
I undid his shirt, one button at a time. Touched the chest I’d imagined too often, found the scar near his shoulder. He caught my hand there.
“We need to stop here for tonight.” His breathing was ragged.
The words went cold through me.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m still the one who signs your assessment. Sending a message didn’t change that.”
He let go of my hand. I slid off the bed and smoothed my blouse. Some clothes had spilled from the fallen suitcase. He bent to pick them up. I got there first.
“Then don’t start something you’ll ask me to forget.”
He straightened. The suitcase lay between us.
“I won’t ask you to forget.”
“Can you say that tomorrow?”
He looked at my mouth.
“I want to kiss you again. Tomorrow too.”
I lowered my eyes and pushed the last shirt into the case without folding it. I could still feel his hands at my waist.
He came closer again. This time, he didn’t touch me.
“Stay, Gabriela.”
I met his eyes.
“For the project?”
“For me.”
I looked at the suitcase on the floor. I still wanted him out of my room. I also wanted to pull him back. I left the suitcase where it was.
“Until the assessment ends. Then I decide.”
“Until the assessment ends.”
“And we start formalizing the audit tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.”
“If there’s any retaliation at work because this happened, I’ll leave. And I’ll make the reason public.”
He took the condition without offense.
“Fair.”
“No gifts. No paying off my debts. No secret changes to the contract.”
“Understood.”
“And Beatrice doesn’t come into this bedroom again.”
“This is your bedroom.”
“Any bedroom of yours.”
“Security already has the instructions.”
Something close to amusement lit his eyes.
“That sounds like jealousy.”
“It’s a hygiene requirement.”
I held out a hand, as if we were closing a deal. He looked at it, then lifted my fingers to his lips instead of shaking it. The kiss on my palm was more dangerous than the first because it didn’t come from anger.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I didn’t promise to keep my distance.”
He left, shutting the door. I stood between the suitcases, my lips still tender. Eleven days left in the assessment. I had no idea how I was going to get through them.