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“You know it’s not real.”
He studies me for a long moment. “You like the gift?” he asks, eyes steady.
Am I reading into his gaze? Does he know something about it or is he making small talk?
“It’s beautiful but extravagant. Your father doesn’t even know me,” I test.
Rafa smiles and it’s that same smile from the first time when he took me jogging. “He’s trying to get back into Stefan’s good graces.”
Small talk. I don’t need small talk.
“Why was the same man who sideswiped us at that house, Rafa?”
He never shifts his gaze away. “I’m trying to figure that out too,” he says, his forehead creasing. Is it in concern?
“You were angry after your meeting with your father.”
“I was. But I’m often angry after meeting with my father.” He walks around me to the cage. He runs a hand over the golden bars. “It’s nice.” He turns to me. “You should come downstairs and say goodbye. Stefan will expect it.”
Anxiety fills my belly. “He wants me to sign a petition to get guardianship of my brother.”
“Better for your brother, isn’t it?”
“Becoming Stefan’s pawn rather than my father’s? How is that better? It’s just different.”
“It was your father who put him in Clear Meadows to begin with.”
“How do you know that?”
He studies me, then makes a point of checking his watch. “I have to take Clara home. Let me walk you downstairs.”
“I can find my own way.”
He walks to the door and opens it. “I’ll escort you.”
Stefan’s words come back to me. There’s nothing nice about Rafa.
“Just a minute,” I say, “I need to use the bathroom.”
He nods, gestures for me to go ahead. He doesn’t leave the room.
I walk into the bathroom and close the door. Standing in front of the mirror, I run the cold water and splash a handful on my face, then dry it.
What did Stefan say about allies and enemies and that constantly shifting line? Rafa is not my friend. I know that. I’ve known it all along. I guess the real question is how passive or active an enemy is he to me?
I feel like I’m locked in a cage and in each corner is another monster.
“Gabriela,” Rafa asks with a soft knock.
“Coming,” I say, wondering which of the monsters will bury me.
18
Gabriela
The house is dark but for the light that pours from Stefan’s study. I hear Clara’s familiar, irritating laughter and almost stop as my hands fist. I wonder if Rafa notices this shift in me. I think he might because it’s then that he puts his hand at my lower back. I hurry my step until he’s not touching me and I’m standing just inside the study.
“I didn’t realize we still had guests,” I say, my eyes on Clara.
She finishes her champagne and I hate that she looks so perfect. That she’s wearing white. Isn’t it in poor taste to wear white to a wedding that’s not your own?
Why do you care?
Stefan and Clara both stand.
Clara looks me over as she walks toward me. I smell her perfume when she leans to kiss my cheek, or more accurately, to touch her icy cheek to mine.
“Congratulations,” she says to me, drawing back. “Welcome to the family.”
Family. Christ. Who’s worse, the Marchese’s or the Sabbioni’s? We take dysfunction to a whole other level.
“Ready to go, Clara?” Rafa asks.
She goes to Rafa, stands a little closer than what I’d think is normal for cousins but I’m apparently the only one who notices the oddity.
“See you tomorrow, Stef,” Rafa says as he gestures for Clara to walk out ahead of him.
“See you then,” Stefan says and a moment later, he closes the door and turns to face me.
“Are they together?” I ask.
“They’re cousins.”
“But are they together?”
Stefan shrugs, walks behind his desk to take out a folder. “They fuck now and again, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Did the three of you…” I start but stop as soon as I hear my own words.
Stefan’s eyes gleam and he gives me a one-sided grin. “For all your inexperience you have a dirty mind.”
I steel my spine. “You all seem so cozy. Always have.”
“Clara likes to have fun.”
He doesn’t deny it. I wish he did. Wish he’d tell me I was crazy.
“You’re my wife, Gabriela.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t ask out of jealousy, just curiosity. You can fuck whoever you like.”
He comes around the desk, his walk that of a predator. He doesn’t waste words or give me any space, but one hand fists my hair and he walks me backward until I’m at the wall.
“Be very careful.”
“I’m just telling you it’s okay. Isn’t that what you want?”
His gaze skims my face, hovering for a moment at my mouth before returning to my eyes. “So you’re giving me your permission?” He shakes his head, snorts. “Are you expecting the same allowance from me?”
“I don’t need your allowance.”
