Page 23 of Vicious Temptation
“You’re working for me. And I do my best to make sure everyone in my employ, especially those who also live here, are comfortable. If there’s anything at all that you need, just tell me, and I’ll do my best to get it for you,” he says sincerely.
“Thank you.” I don’t know what else to say. I’m on the cusp of a new type of life, doing things I’ve never done before, and I’m filled with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. All I know is that I hope it works out. I want to stay here for as long as I can.
“There’s everything you need to light a fire, too, if you want,” Gabriel adds, nodding at the fireplace. “It’s summer, but you seem to get cold easily. So, like everything else here, feel free to use it as you please.”
His offhand comment about the cold strikes me, because he doesn’t say it as if he’s judging me, or even particularly curious about why. He just accepts that I do something that seems out of the ordinary, and it doesn’t seem to bother him.
Don’t you think it would bother him if he knew why? An insidious little voice in my head whispers, but I ignore it. I don’t want anything to spoil the day.
“If there’s nothing else—” Gabriel shifts on his feet, and I’m suddenly snapped back into the moment, and very aware that he’s standing here alone with me in what is now my bedroom. That uneasy feeling skitters up my spine again, my skin tingling with an awareness that I don’t want, and feel uncomfortable with. It makes me feel bad, because he hasn’t done anything to make me feel that way—none of this is his fault. But I feel panicky at being alone with him all the same.
When I don’t respond, Gabriel continues. “I’ll let you get settled in. We usually have dinner around seven, and you’re not required to join us, but I’d like it if you did. Agnes and Aldo eat with me and the children a few times a week, and anytime you can be at dinner, I think it would be good for them.” He pauses. “I would very much like for it to feel as if you’re a part of the family.”
Something tugs in my chest, and I nod. His green eyes meet mine, and that awareness grows, the knowledge that he’s standing in my room, of the bed a handful of feet away from us, of the intimacy of having him here in my space. I think he realizes it, too, because he steps back, putting even more physical distance between us as he goes to open the door.
“I’ll come down for dinner,” I tell him quickly. “I’ll do some unpacking, and then change and come down.”
“That sounds good.” He smiles once more at me, and then slips out of the room.
I spend the next few hours unpacking, putting my books on the shelf, and hanging up my clothes. When it gets close to seven, I change into a pair of jeans and a long, tunic-style knit sweater in dark blue, slipping on my rose gold jewelry to go with it. I don’t know how much Gabriel likes everyone to dress up for dinner, but the house has seemed fairly casual so far, so I hope that’s fine.
I didn’t need to worry. When I come down, it’s just Gabriel, Danny, and Cecelia at the table, and Gabriel is wearing dark jeans and a short-sleeved, henley-style shirt. He glances up when I walk in, and smiles appreciatively.
“I’m glad you came down.” He gestures to one side of the table, across from the children. “Go ahead, sit. We already brought everything out.”
Someone had set a place for me, and I sink down into the chair, looking at the dishes of food in the center of the table. There’s a large bowl of what looks like a creamy pasta, topped with shrimp, blistered tomatoes, and feta cheese, and another wooden bowl with a green salad in it, next to a small glass pitcher of some sort of vinaigrette. Cecelia eyes me from across the table, glancing over at her father.
“Is she going to eat with us every night?”
“Cecelia.” Gabriel’s tone isn’t sharp, but there’s a hint of reprimand in it. “You shouldn’t talk about Bella as if she isn’t sitting right here. And yes. She’ll be taking care of both of you, so she’ll be sharing most of your meals. I’ve asked her to have dinner with us as often as she likes.”
Cecelia bites her lip, but she says nothing else. She just sits there, her hands primly folded in her lap, her hazel eyes surveying the dinner table as she waits. Gabriel glances over at me, his expression smoothing. “Can you pass me the salad, Bella?”
I swallow nervously, nodding. It’s just a salad, but my hands feel shaky; this first dinner sitting at a table with this family that I now work for makes me anxious. It feels like there’s so much riding on this—if Gabriel is happy with me, I’ll get to stay. I’ll get to keep taking care of these children, living in this house, and—the most important part of all of it—I’ll stay unmarried. My continued freedom entirely hinges on how long this job goes on for, and how long my father can be convinced that this is a good idea. Gabriel is his business associate, so if Gabriel is pleased with my performance, this will just be another sort of business, keeping me here. But if he’s not?—
I’ve been sitting holding the bowl for too long, I realize. Cecelia is watching me quizzically from across the table, and I quickly pick up some of the salad with the tongs, depositing it onto my plate before passing it to Gabriel. He dishes up his and the children’s, and I take the bowl back, doing the same with the pasta and then the dressing for the salad until we’re all sitting with our dinners in front of us. Only then does Gabriel pick up his fork, and I see the children take that as a sign to start eating as well.
I take a small bite of the pasta, knowing I won’t be able to eat much, but not wanting to be rude. It’s absolutely amazing—creamy and flavorful, with the lemony shrimp and the tang of the feta cheese mixed in with the silkiness of the pasta and sauce. “This is delicious,” I tell Gabriel, glancing over at him. “Agnes is an amazing cook.”
“We helped,” Cecelia informs me archly. “Agnes showed me how to make the pasta from scratch. And Danny stirred.” She glances over at her brother, who looks very proud of his contribution to the dinner.
“Pasta from scratch is impressive. I don’t know if I could do that. Do you like cooking?” I can’t imagine ever having gotten to cook at their age. I still don’t know how. My father would have been horrified if Gladys had ever allowed me in the kitchen for more than just to grab a quick snack. The normalcy of it, in a family that’s actually above mine in terms of wealth and status, both startles me and makes me feel a little envious. Cecelia and Danny will grow up with very different feelings about the world than I did, and their place in it. And considering Gabriel’s reaction to my impending engagement, I find it hard to believe that Cecelia will grow up to be pushed into something like that.
“I do.” Cecelia nods, spinning some of the pasta onto her fork. “Agnes says she’ll keep teaching me more.” She glances over at Gabriel, a suddenly concerned expression on her face. “I can keep learning from Agnes, right? That’s not going to change now that she—” Cecelia glances at me, and then back at her father. “That’s not going to change, right?”
“No, of course not,” Gabriel says gently. “Not much is going to change, Cecelia, other than the fact that Bella is here to help Agnes. Cooking is not one of the things she was hired to do, so of course, it will still be Agnes who teaches you all of that, for as long as you’re enjoying it. Bella is here to just make sure that Agnes isn’t overworked.”
I listen to all of this quietly as I take small bites of my pasta and salad, absorbing the information. It’s clear to me, both from my first meeting with her and from this conversation, that Agnes is very important to Gabriel and to his children. A family member, not an employee. I know I’ll need to be careful not to step on her toes, to make sure that I keep up the rhythms of the house, instead of disrupting them.
The rest of the dinner is spent in quiet conversation that’s so incredibly normal that it catches me off guard. Gabriel asks Cecelia about her reading list for the summer from the school, and talks to Danny about trying out for a summer youth baseball league. The kinds of things that I’ve never pictured a man with such close connections to the mafia discussing with his children, let alone taking an active interest in what they’re doing. My father never discussed much with me when I was younger, other than to occasionally check in on my schedule of ballet and piano lessons. Dinners were always silent and formal and cold, and the comfortable warmth of this dinner table is something I’d never even imagined before, let alone experienced.
Another surprising thing is what happens after dinner. Agnes is nowhere to be seen, and I had assumed she was in the kitchen, waiting to bring out other courses. But instead, Gabriel gets up when we’re finished eating, gesturing to the children to help him clear the plates. I sit there confused for a minute too long to help, stunned by the fact that this man is doing anything for himself. When he comes back with dessert—a small bowl of custard studded with fresh berries for everyone—I can’t manage more than an awkward thanks.
“Agnes and her husband eat dinner with us a few times a week,” Gabriel explains as he sits down with his dessert, and I flush pink, realizing how clearly my confusion must have shown. “The rest of the time, they go back home at the end of the day. Agnes can be a little stubborn when it comes to it, but I consider all of my staff off at the end of the normal workday. That includes you too, Bella—other than getting Danny and Cecelia ready for bed at the end of the night and overseeing anything they need, then, you’re effectively off once I get home. I would love for you to participate in dinner or sharing the evenings with us, but you certainly don’t have to.”
His tone is formal, but there’s a warmth to it that lets me know he’s sincere. “I like for Danny and Cecelia to help out with as much as they can,” he adds. “It’s good for them to feel capable and independent.”
The underlying tone beneath the words is clear—Gabriel loves his children, but doesn’t want to coddle them. As someone who was coddled all my life, but never really felt loved, I can appreciate that. I feel like they’ll be happier for it as adults, knowing their father cares very much about them, but wants them to be able to stand on their own two feet.