Page 29 of Vicious Temptation

I feel better than I have in a long time.

10

BELLA

After the first few weeks of being the live-in nanny in the Esposito house, I can confidently say that I’m happier than I can remember being in months. Within the first week, I start to feel settled in, finding my own routine amidst the routines I’m expected to follow for Cecelia and Danny. I go out for a run every day before dinner, and find that I’m starting to have more energy. I’ve always been fit, but keeping up my runs has helped me tone up even more, and it makes me feel stronger. I have dinner with Gabriel and the children every night, and by the time I’ve been in the house for nearly a month, I’ve started to feel like I belong here.

And I love the job. I love Cecelia and Danny, and although I worried about whether or not I’d be any good at taking care of children—especially when I never knew if I really wanted any of my own or if I just accepted that it was expected of me—I feel like I’ve fallen naturally into it.

It helps that Gabriel is a good boss. He’s friendly and kind, always making me feel welcome, and checking often to make sure that there’s nothing I need. I’ve noticed that he’s careful to keep physical space between us—he never sits close to me or comes within more than a couple arms’ length of me, and he never asks me any personal questions. In fact, since that second night when he asked me about my photography, I can’t think of any personal question he’s asked me at all.

But for me, that’s perfect. The physical distance he keeps means that I never have to worry about being touched. I never worry that he wants to touch me, that he’s angling for some way to get closer to me in hopes that something will happen between us. And his lack of prying for any personal information means that I don’t have to worry about whether or not to tell him the truth about what happened to me before I came here.

I don’t want to tell him the truth about it. I’m happy here, happier than I could have imagined being after everything that happened with Pyotr. But no matter how kind and understanding Gabriel is, I feel sure that would change if he knew that I was prone to panic attacks and nightmares, that the reasons I cover up and wear clothing too hot for the summer has nothing to do with low blood sugar or an iron disorder, like I’m sure he assumes.

I’ve done everything I can to avoid those things complicating my new life. My nightly run around the estate helps to make me extra tired by the end of the evening, and I take my sleeping pill every night to avoid the nightmares. Between those things and my job running after a nine-year-old and an eleven-year-old, I’m tired enough that I sleep hard every night. And despite the grogginess in the mornings from the pills, the exertion and sense of purpose make me feel better than I have in a long time.

“Let’s play a game in the living room after dinner,” Gabriel suggests that night over a dinner of homemade spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread. “A board game, maybe. Do you want to join, Bella?”

“Sure.” I nod, more than happy to join in. Most nights, I have joined them, whatever evening activity Gabriel, Cecelia, and Danny pick, whether it’s a movie, a game, or just relaxing in the living room. Occasionally, I’ll go up to my room early and relax, or watch something on my own, but I like the feeling of spending time with others who actually want me around. So much of my life before was lonely, with a father who tolerated my company and no one else. The warmth of having so many people around who actually enjoy each other is soothing, and I like being a part of whatever family activities take place every night.

We end up playing Monopoly around the coffee table in the living room, and Cecelia wins. Afterward, I take them upstairs to get ready for bed while Gabriel cleans up, grabbing my book to read in bed for a little while. I’m just about to change into something to sleep in when I realize I must have left the cashmere cardigan I was wearing earlier downstairs.

I hesitate, not wanting to go down and disturb Gabriel if he’s still in the living room. But it’s my favorite sweater to cozy up in while I read, one of my favorites, and so I toss the shorts and tank top I was about to change into onto the bed, and head back downstairs.

Gabriel is still sitting in the living room when I walk in, in one of the armchairs, with a book in his lap and a glass of wine in his hand. He looks up abruptly as I walk in, and a smile spreads across his face as soon as he sees me.

It’s nothing unusual—he’s often smiling, and he often seems pleased with me. But for some reason, in the low light of the room, this late at night with just the two of us here, the smile seems more intimate than it should be. I feel my heart leap up into my throat, my pulse fluttering there, and I pause just inside the room, suddenly wondering if I should turn around and flee back upstairs.

There’s no reason for that, I tell myself firmly. No reason to be silly. He’s not doing anything wrong. He’s just smiling at you. You’re the one making this weird.

“Do you need something, Bella?” Gabriel asks, and I shake off the disconcerting feeling, making a beeline for the couch.

“I forgot my sweater.” I grab it off of the couch, holding it up and briefly waving it, like a flag to prove that’s the reason I came downstairs. It occurs to me, as I do, that I shouldn’t really need a reason to come back down here, that it makes it seem like I’m guilty of something when the truth is that I have no idea why I feel faintly as if there’s something wrong with being here in the living room with Gabriel so late at night. Neither of us is doing anything wrong—he’s just sitting there, sipping his glass of wine?—

“Are you alright?” he asks, tilting his head slightly as he looks at me, and I nod quickly.

“Yeah, I’m—I’m fine. I just needed to come down and grab this.”

“Do you want to sit and have a drink with me?” He nods to his glass of wine. “There’s more in the kitchen; I can go and get you a glass if you like.”

I hesitate. Is it normal for a boss to ask their employee to sit and have a drink? But then again, as far as I know, most people don’t live with their boss. And Gabriel has said that he wants me to feel like I’m part of the family. I’m sure Agnes has sat in here and had a drink with him before.

I don’t normally drink, either. I can count the times I’ve had a glass of wine on one hand. But the idea is inviting—the living room is cozy and dimly lit, the house quiet with the children in bed, and it sounds nice. I like spending time with Gabriel, talking to him—probably more than I should.

I’m suddenly very aware that I’m still holding my sweater, that the loose white t-shirt that I’d thrown on with my jeans leaves my arms bare, even the scoop neck feeling a little too low, my collarbones exposed. “Sure,” I manage, quickly slipping on the cardigan, tugging it around me as I sink down onto the couch. “That sounds nice.”

“Alright.” Gabriel gets up smoothly, setting his glass on the side table. “I’ll be right back.”

I watch him stride out of the room, a shiver going down my spine. Every time I look at him—really look at him, I’m reminded of why, most of the time, I try to only give him passing glances. It hits me every time, how incredibly handsome he is. Like this, late at night in joggers and a t-shirt, he’s even more so. I can see the flex of his muscles under the t-shirt and catch a hint of tanned, olive skin where the shirt has ridden up ever so slightly at the waist. It makes my skin feel hot, and I swallow hard, pulling the cardigan closer around myself as I tuck my legs up underneath me on the couch.

The first man to make me really feel a spark of anything in months, and it would be a man who is completely off-limits to me. I used to notice men, before what Pyotr did to me, even if I’ve never seen anyone who seemed as handsome to me as Gabriel is, who made my skin heat and my breath come a little short when I look at him. But it’s better this way, I remind myself. At least with Gabriel, it can’t go anywhere. At least with him, neither of us ever have to feel the disappointment of trying, and all of my ugly memories raising their head at the wrong time, and stopping anything we might do together in its tracks.

Gabriel walks back into the room a minute later, a glass half-filled with red wine in his hand. He holds it out to me, and when I take it, my fingers graze briefly against his.

It feels like a shock. I almost recoil, nearly spilling the wine, but I manage not to. Instead, I take it out of his hand, but I can feel mine shaking, and I press the base of the wine glass against my thigh, trying to breathe normally. Something as small as my hand brushing against someone else’s shouldn’t make me feel like this. It shouldn’t make me feel panicky and afraid.

But for the first time, there’s something else under that feeling, a shiver of something that doesn’t feel like fear.