Page 42 of Vicious Temptation
“Yes! Let’s go!” Danny chimes in. “I wanna go to the Lego store.”
Gabriel smiles, and I’m struck again by how genuinely affectionate and loving he is towards his children. My father would have found those kinds of requests annoying when I was little—he wouldn’t have denied me anything, but he also wouldn’t have put together a trip to go to the city. He would have just sent an assistant to go buy whatever it was I wanted and given it to me, and even though back then I would have thought it seemed spoiled to say it aloud, it’s not the same.
But now, looking at Cecelia’s excitement and Gabriel’s indulgent smile, I realize it wasn’t spoiled at all. Because it wasn’t the toy I wanted so much as time spent with my only parent, and to feel loved. We could have been going on a trip for anything, and I would have been excited.
“We can absolutely do that,” Gabriel says. “But I have a different idea, if you like it.” He glances up at me. “What if Bella takes you today? I can tell you’re really excited. I’ll send Gio with you, and he can keep an eye on you guys and Bella, make sure you’re safe in the big city. How does that sound?”
Cecelia’s eyes go round. “Yes,” she breathes. “We can go today?” Her head immediately swivels towards me, pleading in her eyes, as if I actually have a voice in this decision. “Say yes, Bella!” she exclaims, and I laugh.
“If your dad says it’s okay, then of course it is,” I tell her, and she lets out a small squeal of excitement, clapping her hands as Danny eagerly kicks his legs back and forth against the chair. The room is filled with the obvious excitement, and I bite my lip, trying not to show any of my own uncertainty until we’re done with breakfast.
But as Gabriel gets up to go, I quickly excuse myself, telling Cecelia and Danny to help Agnes clean up as I follow him out of the room. He hears my footsteps and pauses, turning around to look at me. “Is everything alright?”
“Are you sure you trust me to take them downtown?” I bite my lip, feeling nervous.
“Of course. You said you go to the city to visit Clara, right? You’ve been in Manhattan plenty of times.”
“Yes, but—” I hesitate. “By myself, meeting Clara. Not responsible for someone else’s kids. I just wanted to make sure?—”
“You’ve shown that you’re very capable with them,” Gabriel reassures me. “And you’re an adult. You can handle being in the city just fine—like you said, you’ve been there plenty of times before. I’m not worried about it in the slightest.”
I’m still surprised that he trusts me this much, especially after seeing me so distraught last night. But it also makes me happy that he’s treating me like this—like I’m capable and independent, when I’ve spent my whole life prior to this being treated as something to be bartered away. Something to only be given enough independence to keep me placated, so that I wouldn’t make too many waves when the time came to sell me off.
Gabriel reaches into his pocket, taking out a slim leather wallet, and handing me a heavy black credit card. “There’s no limit to worry about on this,” he says casually, as I take the card. “Get Clara and Danny whatever they want at the stores they want to go to, take them out to lunch. And spend whatever you please, too,” he adds. “Get yourself something nice. I’ll text my driver, Jason, and tell Gio to meet you all out front in an hour. Enjoy yourselves,” he adds, and then he turns to go, walking away as if he didn’t just hand me carte blanche with his money and tell me he didn’t care what I did with it.
I’ve grown up with money. It’s not like spending it is strange to me, even if my father only ekes out the smallest of allowances to me compared with what he has at his disposal. Even though our family doesn’t compare to the wealth of some of the higher-ranking mafia elite, we’re still in that upper percentile of wealth. My father is the one who is never satisfied—I’ve always felt that I had plenty growing up.
But being handed a limitless credit card and being told in so many words to go nuts is something new to me. My father has always restricted my personal spending, and he’s definitely never been the kind to let me spoil myself. If I asked for something, he’d get it for me, but I’ve never been the sort of rich daddy’s girl to get to spend her father’s money however she pleases.
So this is a new feeling. One I’m determined not to take advantage of.
I slip the card into my pocket, and go to get Cecelia and Danny and get us all ready.
—
An hour later, we’re waiting out front as Jason, Gabriel’s driver, pulls the car around. Danny is wearing his favorite Batman shirt, and Cecelia has a tiered eyelet lace pink sundress on—undoubtedly something to do with the doll that she’s so excited about. I put on a pair of jeans and a thin grey Italian wool sweater with my Docs, and my rose gold jewelry. Despite my worries about being in charge of two rambunctious children in downtown Manhattan, I feel a thrill of excitement, too. I haven’t been away from Gabriel’s house since I started working here almost a month ago, and I’m excited to go into the city.
Gio, our bodyguard for the day, is sitting in the passenger’s seat when Jason pulls up. Jason looks young, maybe Gabriel’s age or a little older, but Gio is definitely much older—probably in his mid-forties. He’s built like a brick wall, with close-cropped hair and a serious expression that makes me think he must have been in the military at some point. I know his presence is supposed to make me feel safer, but I don’t, not really.
A part of me is always afraid that the Bratva will come looking for me again. That in their minds, I’m somehow to blame for all of what happened, at least in part, and they’ll come find me to exact revenge for Pyotr’s death. In the conscious part of my mind, I feel like that’s unlikely—I had no power in any of it. I was just a card to be played by men more powerful and well-connected than I’ll ever be. But deep down, there’s always that fear. It twinges when I least expect it, haunting me, making me feel like I’ll never be able to be free of what happened. No matter how much time passes.
It gets better. I keep repeating what Gabriel said last night, like a mantra I can cling to. What happened to him isn’t the same, and I don’t know all the details, but it’s horrible, too, in a different way. So if he can feel that it gets better, then maybe I can, too.
The three of us get into the car, and Jason twists around to look at us. “Miss D’Amelio?” he asks, nodding at me, and I laugh a little. It reminds me of home, and I shake my head.
“Please, just call me Bella.”
He gives me a dubious look, but nods, which I appreciate. “Alright then, Bella,” he says easily. “Where are we off to?”
I give him the address of the American Girl store in downtown Manhattan, and we’re off. Gabriel has rules about how much screen time Cecelia and Danny are allowed, but they each have their own tablet, and for the duration of the car ride there and back, they have free rein. Danny is happily reading his comics via an app, and Cecelia is playing a game, the chipper background music filling the interior of the car as we drive.
I feel another small thrill of nervous excitement when we go through the Lincoln Tunnel, the familiar bustle of the city making me feel both happy to be in a familiar place and nervous that I’ll screw this up somehow. Jason pulls up to the curb, putting the car in park, and turns to face me again as Gio gets out of the car. “Here’s my number,” he says, rattling it off as I get my phone out. “I’ll park in a garage, hang out until you’re ready to go. Just give me a ten or fifteen-minute warning, and I’ll come pick you up wherever you like.”
“Thanks.” I flash him a quick smile as Gio opens the door, and then I slide out into the baking heat of downtown Manhattan in the summer, a pang of regret in my stomach that I can’t bring myself to wear normal summer clothes any longer. I’m going to roast alive in this sweater.
At least everywhere keeps the air conditioning at ridiculous levels, I think as Cecelia and Danny slide out, and I shepherd them safely onto the sidewalk. Gio shadows us as we walk to the store, and I can tell Cecelia is having trouble not rushing ahead. “Stay close,” I warn her. “I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.”
“It’s not my first time in the city,” she tells me primly, with the smallest hint of disdain that almost makes me laugh, although I stifle it so that she doesn’t think I’m laughing at her. “I know not to run off.”