Part of me recoils at the sight of him like this, his anger a raw, unfamiliar presence. But another part—the part that craves his attention, his intensity—revels in it. In knowing that I'm the reason he's like this, and that for once, he isn't treating me like a fragile piece of glass, ready to shatter at any moment.
Gabriel only ever yelled at me once—when we first met, before he knew everything that's happened to me. I was afraid of him then. But I’m not afraid of him now.
I stand my ground, meeting Gabriel's fiery gaze with my own defiant stare. The air between us crackles with tension, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.
"Why were you there?" he repeats, his voice softer this time, but no less intense.
"It was an accident, okay?" I retort, frustration lacing my tone. "It's not like I planned on being there tonight. I—" Screw this. I bite my tongue, my patience wearing thin, and make a beeline for the door.
He's not my keeper. I don't owe him any explanations. I'm not some child. I’m twenty-one years old. I don’t need to answer him.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he snaps, his hand gripping my arm and yanking me back around to face him.
"Home," I reply curtly, my jaw set as I stare down at his hand on me and ignore the electricity racing up my arm.
“You don’t have your Jeep,” he reminds me, his grip tightening slightly. He doesn’t hurt me. No. Gabriel would never do that. But his hold is firm. Unyielding.
"I don't care. I'll walk." I jerk free from his hold and reach for the door. But before I can open it, his hand slams down on it, blocking my exit.
“Move.”
"Cecilia—" his voice rumbles, sending shivers down my spine. The warmth of his body envelops me, making my stomach tighten with a mixture of nerves and something else I refuse to name. He leans forward, dipping low until his lips brush the shell of my ear. “You’re not leaving,” he growls.
My thighs clench, and I hate the way my body responds to him.
I turn around to face him. My hands press against his chest, a feeble attempt to create some space between us, but his arm remains firmly braced over my shoulder, trapping me against the door.
He’s so close.Too close.
His scent, a tantalizing mix of musk and spice, fills my senses, clouding my thoughts.
Why does he smell so good? Glaring at a spot on his chest, I push at him again, desperate to break free from this invisible hold he has on me, but he doesn't budge.
Frustration simmers beneath my skin, mingling with the heat radiating from his body. Why won't he just step back? Why does he insist on invading my personal space like this?
We need boundaries. We’re not together anymore. He can’t just force himself into my life whenever he sees fit.
"You can't keep me here," I protest, my heart hammering in my chest.
“I can, and I will,” he counters, his voice firm and unwavering. “At least until I know you’re not going to be a danger to yourself?—”
Before I can even process his words, my hand moves of its own accord, the sound of the slap echoing in the tense silence that follows.
My eyes widen in shock as I watch the red mark bloom on Gabriel's cheek, the realization of what I've done hitting me like a ton of bricks.
"Oh my god," I whisper, horror washing over me. I've never lashed out at someone like this before. Guilt threatens to consume me. But even as I recoil from my actions, I can't bring myself to apologize to him. Not after what he just insinuated.
How could he?
I can’t believe he crossed that line and while I am absolutely mortified with my reaction, I refuse to let him make me feel small. Not about this.
“I am not going to kill myself just because I had a shitty ending to my date.” My voice trembles.
His jaw ticks and almost in slow motion, he drags his gaze back to mine.
"That isn't what I was saying—" Gabriel starts, but his words cut off abruptly, and I realize my mistake too late.
"Your date?" His tone is sharp, his eyes narrowing with calculation.
