Chapter 10
Gabriel
I’m sitting on the terrace, laptop open in front of me, staring at furniture layouts for my client’s living room.
The late afternoon sun is hitting the water at just the right angle, turning the lake into a sheet of liquid gold.
It’s the kind of afternoon that makes work feel criminal, but I’ve been putting off these decisions for days.
The house is quiet. Marshall spent the day working in the garden, but he’s finished up now and gone upstairs.
We’ve settled into a rhythm over the past few days.
We wake up, eat breakfast together, and then go our separate ways until dinner.
He works in the garden. I work in the house or on the terrace.
We don’t avoid each other, but we don’t seek each other out either.
It’s exactly what we need after the night of madness we agreed never to talk about again.
I’m working out where to put the deep navy velvet sofa when I hear a motorboat cutting through the water. I look up, squinting against the sun, and my stomach sinks when I recognize Blaine’s boat.
I realize I haven’t thought about him much since the night out with Marshall. I close my laptop and stand, and all I feel is a dull throb of annoyance where the panic used to be.
His boat slows and bumps against the pier. Blaine climbs out and waves. I don’t wave back.
He approaches the terrace, taking the stone steps two at a time with more energy than you’d expect from a man in his fifties. “Gabriel! What luck finding you here.”
“I live here,” I say, my voice flat.
He laughs as if I’ve said something clever. “Of course, of course.” He stops at the edge of the terrace. “Do you have a minute? I’d like to talk.”
“I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”
“I do.” His smile doesn’t falter. “I was hoping to speak to you the other day when we came by with Vanessa, but you weren’t feeling well.”
“Funny how that works.”
“Gabriel.” His voice softens. “I’d just like a chance to—”
“That’s why you brought your wife?” I cut him off. “To speak to me?”
A flicker of irritation crosses his face. “I didn’t want to bring her. She tagged along.”
“It’s none of my business.” I step back, putting more distance between us. “I’d appreciate it if you’d go.”
But Blaine doesn’t leave. Instead, he steps forward, his expression shifting to one of regret. “I’m sorry. I wanted to apologize for how things ended. You deserved better than the way I handled it.”
Another step. I back up until my calves hit the chair behind me.
“I should have been honest with you from the beginning.” He keeps coming, his voice low. “I care about you, Gabriel. I never meant to—”
The terrace door swings open with a creak, cutting him off.
Marshall steps out, his hair damp, a white t-shirt clinging to his shoulders and chest, making his tan stand out.
Dark linen pants hang low on his hips. He looks as if he just got out of the shower, his face clean-shaven and freshly scrubbed.
He takes in the scene with a single sweep of his gaze, and a shadow crosses his face. But when he speaks, his voice is perfectly polite.
“Mr. Ashford. This is a surprise.”
Blaine’s smile returns. “Marshall. Wonderful to see you. I was just catching up with Gabriel.”
“I can see that.” Marshall’s gaze flicks to me. “Everything okay?”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“I was hoping to speak with Gabriel in private,” Blaine says, turning back to me. “If that’s all right.”
Marshall doesn’t leave. He waits, his eyes on mine, asking without words if I want him to go.
I don’t. I want Blaine to go. I want him to get back in his boat and drive away and never come back. But I can’t say that. I can’t tell Dad’s friend and neighbor to fuck off, no matter how much I want to.
I turn to Blaine. “Whatever you wanted to tell me, you can say it in front of my stepbrother.”
Blaine hesitates, looking between us. “Vanessa and I are having dinner at our villa tomorrow night. My niece is visiting from London. We’d be delighted if you’d both join us.”
I hold back a sigh. Dinner at Blaine’s, an evening of Vanessa’s empty chatter.
I look at Marshall, who’s watching me with that steady gaze. He’s waiting for my answer, so I give him a subtle nod.
“We’d be happy to,” Marshall says, turning to Blaine. “Thank you for the invitation.”
Blaine nods, but he doesn’t leave. He lingers, glancing between us, like he’s hoping Marshall will take the hint and go back inside. But Marshall doesn’t move. Instead, he steps closer to me, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder.
“Well,” Blaine says after a moment, his eyes flicking to Marshall’s hand. “I should get going. Vanessa will be wondering where I am.” He gives us both a nod. “We’ll see you tomorrow at seven.”
Marshall’s hand tightens on my shoulder. “We’ll be there.”
I say nothing.
Blaine turns and walks back to his boat, his shoulders stiff. I watch him go, my chest tight with a mix of emotions. Marshall’s hand stays on my shoulder until Blaine climbs in and starts the engine.
We both move to the edge of the terrace, watching as the boat pulls away from the pier.
When the boat is almost out of sight, I glance at Marshall. He’s watching the water, but there’s a tightness around his eyes.
I lean back against one of the stone pillars that frame the terrace and watch him. “What’s wrong?”
Marshall turns to me, his eyes scanning my face. “What did he want?”
I raise an eyebrow. “To invite us to dinner, apparently.”
“Please,” Marshall shakes his head. “He invented that invitation on the spot.”
I shrug. “That’s how Blaine is. Always scheming, always with an agenda.”
Marshall’s eyes narrow. “I don’t want him coming here anymore.”
“What can we do? He’s Dad’s friend.”
“I don’t care.” Marshall steps closer to me, his voice dropping. “Just say the word, and I’ll keep him away from you.”
The words should make me bristle. I’m not a child who needs protecting. I’m a grown man who can handle his own messy romantic entanglements. Besides, I’m a year older than Marshall.
But the possessive edge in his voice sends a shiver through me. I like it a little too much.
“I don’t need you to protect me,” I say, forcing the words out. “I can take care of myself.”
Marshall holds my gaze. “I know you can, but I can’t help it.”
He reaches out, his fingers tipping my chin up so I have to look at him. “I hate to see you hurt. Especially by that fucker Blaine.”
His voice goes rough at the edges, and the weight of it lands behind my ribs. I need to step away and put some space between us, but my body isn’t listening. Instead, I stay exactly where I am, pinned between the cool stone and the heat of him.
“I know we’ve been avoiding each other for years,” Marshall says. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”
My heart stutters. It’s the first time either of us has admitted it out loud. We’ve been avoiding each other. And I can’t think about the reasons why, because it would be too damning.
“I care about you, Gabriel,” Marshall whispers. “A lot.”
And then he leans down and kisses me.
It’s chaste at first, just his lips against mine, soft and searching. But I can’t help myself. I part my lips, inviting him deeper, and when our tongues meet, I let out a moan that’s embarrassingly needy. My hands fist in his t-shirt, pulling him closer, and Marshall groans against my mouth.
His hands settle on my hips, pressing our bodies together. The heat of him seeps through my clothes, and I’m already half-hard, just from his mouth on mine and his hands holding me.
Marshall has just broken our agreement. And I let him.