Page 41 of Vicious Temptation
Once again, she lingers in my thoughts as I finally leave, trying to shake the image of her sitting in the middle of her bed, the sheets pooling around her, her hair loose around her face. But it feels different this time. I slide back into my own bed, and I feel that twinge of desire, that reaction that’s so hard for me to stifle when she’s near. But there’s more to it.
It feels like an impossible tangle of emotions—lust tempered with caring, with concern, and that boiling inferno of rage simmering just below the surface, the undeniable desire to go and find the people who hurt her, to make them pay for it. I know Pyotr Lasilov is dead, and with him, a good number of his men. I heard that news already, some months ago. But I’m sure that some of his men survived. I’m sure that there are others who were party to it who haven’t paid any price at all. And that thought makes my hands curl into fists, my jaw clenching as I think of what I’d like to do to the men who dared to do such awful things to an innocent woman. Who reduced Bella to what I saw tonight—a scared, broken girl.
One thing feels certain to me.
I need to talk to Masseo again, as soon as I can.
14
BELLA
The rest of the night is filled with fractured dreams, none of them good, but also none of them bad enough to jolt me awake again. I wake feeling as if I got the worst night’s sleep that I have had in a long time, which is true—and also embarrassed, when the rest of the night before comes rushing back to me.
Gabriel, coming into my room, obviously woken up by my screaming. My heart leaps into my throat as I remember him putting his arms around me the moment that he saw I was crying, how he pulled me against his chest for that brief moment before I panicked and jerked away. Last night, still half in the grip of the nightmare, it terrified me. But now, in the morning light, I feel a flutter in my chest, something other than fear.
He let go. I remember that, too, the way he immediately stopped touching me the moment he realized that it was making things worse. The way he listened. The way he tried to help.
The way he’s letting me stay, even though I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted me to leave.
I go through my usual morning routine of getting in the shower and getting dressed, and then going to get Cecelia and Danny up and ready for the day. To my surprise, when we walk into the dining room, Gabriel is sitting at the table.
My heart instantly stutters in my chest, anxiety filling me. Did he change his mind? I wonder numbly as the children run to the table, sitting down next to him, clearly excited that he’s home on a weekday morning. Is he going to tell me that he mulled it over, and he actually thinks it’s better if I go?
Gabriel looks up at me with a smile, and I see the concern creasing the corners of his eyes. It doesn’t make me feel better. If anything, that concern ramps my anxiety up another notch, the possibility of him telling me that it’s better if I leave making me feel like I might pass out before I actually get the chance to sit down.
He seems to see the worry on my face, as hard as I try to hide it, because he stands up, murmuring something to Cecelia before coming around the table to where I’m standing. He motions for me to follow him as he steps outside the dining room, and I feel a surge of panic, followed by the burn of threatening tears behind my eyes.
This is it. He’s going to tell me to go. He’s going to?—
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, swallowing hard. “About last night. For waking you up, and?—”
“Bella.” His tone is kind, but firm, and everything I was about to keep saying dies on my lips. “It’s alright. Everything I said last night still stands. I didn’t rethink it all in the morning, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”
That does bring me up short, even more so. “It is,” I admit quietly, biting my lip. And as I do, I see his eyes flick downwards, ever so briefly, settling on my mouth for the briefest of seconds before he looks quickly back up and meets my eyes again.
There’s a sudden charge in the air, that spark that I’ve felt before between us, that I felt that night in the living room when he tried to help me clean up the spilled wine. My heart flutters, and my breath catches, but for that brief moment, none of it feels bad.
It feels, like it did that night, like I might want it to happen. Like if he reached out and touched me right now, I might not pull away.
I don’t know. I don’t know how it would feel, and a part of me wants to find out. Another part of me is terrified to try.
And the rest remembers that out of all of the men in the world, Gabriel Esposito is by far one of the most off-limits.
There’s a sudden loud clang from the dining room, the sound of silverware being dropped on something, and Gabriel and I both flinch at the same time, the moment between us shattered. He smiles abruptly, a deep laugh filling that space where the spark was a moment ago.
“We should probably go back into the dining room,” he says, almost conspiratorially. “I think Agnes has started getting used to not needing to keep an eye on them.”
The laugh that bubbles up from me is startling. I haven’t really laughed in a long time, and for a moment, the genuine sound of it makes me want to look for who else is in the room with us, because it couldn’t be coming from me. But it is, and warmth fills my chest at the thought that maybe Gabriel was right, last night. Maybe things do get better, in time.
Maybe I could get better. Maybe I won’t ever feel comfortable enough to touch someone, maybe romance and love are foregone conclusions for me, but maybe I can get better in other ways. Maybe I could even find the nerve to take Clara’s advice, and, in time, talk to Gabriel about how I could break free from my father’s hold over me. How I could use my job here to become independent, so I can live my own life, and heal without the specter of a forced marriage hanging over me.
We settle back in at the breakfast table—breakfast this morning is lemon-ricotta pancakes with orange syrup—and I nibble at mine as Cecelia puts her fork down and turns to look at Gabriel.
“Dad, can we go into the city soon? Like, all of us?”
Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “Probably,” he ventures. “Why? Is there a particular reason?”
“There’s a new American Girl doll.” Cecelia’s face brightens as she starts to explain. “She has a pink outfit, and a horse that you can get, too! And the horse is named Hollyhock, and she has sparkles in her mane, and a blue and pink saddle, and—” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “My friend Marianne at school told me that there’s a whole store downtown. They have all the dolls and tons of accessories, and you can get pretty much whatever you want there. And I really want to visit. Can we visit soon? Please?”