Chapter 13
Marshall
The headlights cut through the darkness ahead, illuminating narrow stretches of road that wind along the lake.
Gabriel’s hands rest on the steering wheel at ten and two, his knuckles pale in the dashboard light.
He hasn’t said much since we left the villa, just the occasional comment about the route.
We’ve been good about keeping our agreement. No touching. No lingering looks. No mention of what happened yesterday or the night we went out in Como. We’re back to being stepbrothers who happen to be sharing a house for a few weeks, nothing more.
I shift in the passenger seat, the leather creaking under my weight.
Gabriel’s car is nice, some sleek German thing that smells like his cologne, that smoked vanilla mixed with black pepper, and I try not to think about how that scent has been embedded in my brain since the night he kissed me in the rain.
“You okay?” I ask, breaking the silence.
He glances at me, a quick flick of his eyes before returning to the road. “Yeah. Fine.”
He’s not fine. I can tell by the way his fingers tighten on the wheel and the slight crease between his brows. But I don’t push.
The Ashford villa comes into view a few minutes later, lit up like a small palace against the dark hillside.
Gabriel slows as we approach the gate, which swings open automatically.
The driveway is lined with cypress trees, their dark silhouettes standing like sentinels.
We pull up in front of the house, and Gabriel kills the engine.
Neither of us moves immediately.
“We don’t have to do this,” I say. “We could turn around right now and leave.”
Gabriel exhales, his breath fogging the windshield slightly. “If we don’t show up, Blaine will complain to Dad. Then we’ll have to explain why we bailed.”
“Fair point.”
He unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door, and I follow suit. The villa is bigger than ours, more modern, with clean lines and expensive landscaping. Lights glow from the windows, and I can hear music playing softly from somewhere inside.
Blaine and Vanessa are waiting on the porch, framed in the doorway. Blaine stands with the easy entitlement of a man who owns the place, and Vanessa’s dress is too tight and too short for a casual dinner, her lips stretched in a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Gabriel! Marshall!” Blaine’s voice booms across the driveway. “So glad you could make it.”
Gabriel goes still beside me, but his voice is smooth when he responds. “Couldn’t keep us away.”
We climb the steps to the porch, and Vanessa air-kisses both our cheeks, leaving a trace of her perfume that makes my nose itch. Blaine claps me on the shoulder as if we’re old friends, his grip just a little too firm.
“Come in, come in,” he says, gesturing us through the door. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
We follow them through the house. I’ve been here before with Mom and Philip, years ago, so the layout is familiar.
Marble floors, high ceilings, modern art on the walls that probably cost a fortune and looks like something a toddler could’ve made.
Everything is white and chrome and glass, so sterile I already miss the warmth of our villa.
The back terrace is more inviting. String lights hang overhead, casting a warm glow over a long table set for five. The lake stretches out beyond the railing, dark and endless, and the air smells like grilled fish and lemon.
A woman stands near the table, holding a glass of wine. She’s tall, blonde, wearing a dress that shows off long tan legs. When she sees us, she smiles.
“Felicity,” Blaine says, gesturing toward her. “I’d like you to meet Marshall and Gabriel, Philip’s boys.”
Felicity sets down her wine and extends a hand. “It’s lovely to meet you both. Uncle Blaine has told me so much about you.”
Her handshake is firm, her smile genuine. She’s attractive in an obvious way, the kind of woman who knows it and uses it to her advantage.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, returning her smile.
Gabriel nods but doesn’t offer his hand. He’s standing stiffly beside me.
Blaine directs us to our seats. He and Vanessa take opposite ends of the table as if they’re hosting some kind of state dinner.
I’m seated on the same side as Felicity, with Gabriel directly across from us.
The arrangement feels intentional, and I have a sinking suspicion about where this evening is headed.
A server appears with a bottle of wine and fills our glasses. Vanessa raises hers in a toast.
“To new friendships,” she says in a syrupy voice.
We clink glasses, and I take a sip. The wine is good, crisp and cold, but it does nothing to ease the tension coiling in my chest.
The first course arrives, a seafood appetizer that looks like it belongs in a Michelin-starred restaurant.
Blaine launches into a discussion about the Italian climate, how this summer has been warmer than usual, and how the vineyards are struggling with the heat.
Vanessa chimes in with comments about their recent trip to Tuscany, and Felicity adds her observations about London’s weather in comparison.
I nod and do my best to participate in the conversation, but my attention keeps drifting to Gabriel. He’s pushing food around his plate, barely eating. His jaw is tight, his eyes fixed somewhere over Vanessa’s shoulder.
“Gabriel,” Blaine says, his voice cutting through the conversation. “How’s the interior design business treating you?”
Gabriel’s eyes snap to Blaine’s face. “Fine.”
“Still working on that penthouse in Manhattan?”
“Yes.”
The clipped responses hang in the air, and I see Blaine’s smile falter slightly before he recovers.
“That’s wonderful. You’ve always had such an eye for design.”
Gabriel doesn’t respond. He just takes a sip of his wine, his throat working as he swallows.
The main course arrives, some fish I don’t recognize, with roasted vegetables and a sauce that smells incredible.
I take a bite. The food is good in the way everything here is good, polished and a little hollow.
Dinner theater, Rachel used to call these dinners, back when things were still civil enough for jokes.
“Marshall,” Vanessa says, her voice sliding over my name like oil. “How are you holding up after your divorce?”
I set down my fork and force myself to meet her eyes. “I’m doing fine, thanks for asking.”
“It must have been so difficult,” she continues, leaning forward. “Ending a marriage after so many years.”
“It was the right decision,” I say, my voice flat.
“Of course, of course.” She waves a hand dismissively. “But you’re still young. Plenty of time to find someone new.”
I feel Gabriel’s eyes on me, but I don’t look at him. Instead, I take another sip of wine and pretend not to notice Vanessa’s gaze sliding over me, lingering a beat too long.
“Felicity’s single, you know,” Blaine says suddenly, turning to me. “She just moved back to London after finishing her MBA. She’s in finance.”
Felicity looks mildly embarrassed, but she plays along. “I work for an investment firm in the city. It’s not nearly as interesting as landscape architecture, though. Uncle Blaine tells me you’re working on a restoration project.”
“I am,” I say, grateful for the shift in topic. “The villa we’re staying at has a garden that’s been neglected for years. I’m bringing it back to life.”
“That sounds fascinating,” Felicity says, and she actually sounds like she means it. “I’d love to hear more about it.”
So I tell her. About the irrigation system I’m designing, the native plants I’m sourcing, the way the garden will look once it’s finished.
She asks intelligent questions, and I find myself relaxing slightly.
She’s pleasant enough, easy to talk to, and under different circumstances I might even be interested.
But I’m not.
I glance across the table at Gabriel, and the look on his face stops me mid-sentence. His eyes are dark, his mouth pressed into a thin line, and there’s something in his expression that looks almost like anger.
Blaine is talking, filling the silence I left. “You two would make such a lovely couple. Don’t you think so, Vanessa?”
Vanessa hums, her gaze moving over me without any pretense of subtlety. “Marshall’s a good man. Strong, successful, handsome.” Her eyes settle on mine. “Any woman would be lucky to have him.”
I want to crawl under the table. Felicity looks like she wants to do the same. Gabriel’s grip on his glass is so tight I’m afraid he’ll snap the stem.
“I’m not really looking for a relationship right now,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “I’m focused on the garden and spending time with family.”
“Of course, of course,” Blaine says, but his tone suggests he doesn’t believe me. “But it never hurts to keep your options open.”
The conversation continues, Blaine steering it back to Felicity and me at every opportunity. She talks about her work, her flat in London, and her plans to visit Italy more often. I respond politely, asking questions and making comments, but my attention is split between her and Gabriel.
He’s barely said a word since the main course arrived. He’s just sitting there, his posture rigid, his eyes fixed on his plate.
Dessert arrives, panna cotta with berry compote. Blaine pushes back from the table and pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
“Felicity, care to join me for a smoke?”
She stands, giving me an apologetic smile. “Terrible habit, I know. I got hooked in college and never quite kicked it.”
They walk to the far end of the terrace, near the railing, and light up. The smell of tobacco drifts back toward the table.
Vanessa stands as well, her heels clicking on the stone. “Excuse me for a moment. I need to powder my nose.”
And then it’s just Gabriel and me, sitting across from each other at a table that suddenly feels too large and too small at the same time.
I lean forward, repeating my question from earlier tonight. “You okay?”
He doesn’t look at me. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine.”
“I said I’m fine, Marshall.” His voice is sharp, and it cuts deeper than it should.
I sit back, studying his face. “Is it because of Blaine?” I ask quietly. “Being here, seeing him with Vanessa, it must be—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He finally looks at me, and the raw emotion in his eyes makes my chest tighten. “Can we just get through this dinner and leave?”
I nod, even though I want to understand what’s going through his head. But I can see he’s holding on by a thread, and pushing now would only make things worse.
Blaine and Felicity return a few minutes later, laughing about something.
Vanessa reappears from inside, her lipstick freshly applied.
The conversation picks up again, but it’s white noise now.
All I can think about is getting Gabriel out of here, away from Blaine’s smug smile and Vanessa’s calculating eyes.
I’m going to find an excuse to leave as soon as possible. I don’t care if Blaine complains to Philip. I don’t care if it seems rude. Gabriel needs to get out of here, and I’m going to make sure that happens.