AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“He reopened his wounds, but a doctor came by to see him as said he’ll be fine just as long as he doesn’t have too many days like—”
“Donatella, don’t be coy.”
“Don’t be demanding,” I snapped, then took a deep breath, not wanting them to kill my mood. “Ethan, Wyatt. I’m fine. In fact, for the first time in a long time, I feel great. I’m with Gabriel; I don’t know when I’ll be home, don’t wait up and don’t bother me for now. Love you both. Bye.”
Hanging up, I slipped the phone back into my pocket, shifting my gaze to the W of Wilson Bank, the light of the sign now dimmed. It had taken over four hours before we were free to leave. While the S.W.A.T team snuck into the building and helped people get out, Gabriel did something to the computers. He was wounded but acting chivalrous, demanding the women be saved first, just to give himself more time. By the time we made it back to the hotel, the coverage of the robbery had been played at least half a dozen times on every major network.
BUZZ.
Turning around and heading back into the massive suite, I saw Gabriel come down the stairs dressed in jeans that hung off his waist and a dark shirt he hadn’t bothered to button. He was still drying his wet, brown-blonde hair.
“Are you expecting someone?” I asked him as he moved to the door.
“Someone, no. Things, yes,” he said, opening the door to the same shy, puppy-dog eyed woman I’d met earlier. She wasn’t alone this time.
The first two people who came in after her brought dinner trays. They didn’t just set up in the dining room but the entire living area, moving the couches back and placing them around the coffee table. They set the small table and even lit candles, while another two workers wheeled in two separate carts; the first held clothes, the second contained shoes and handbags.
“Stop,” I held my hands out to them, walking to the second cart and lifting the velvet red box. They were Christian Louboutin, but the box indicated that they were a one of a kind custom shoe; like two I’d been able to get previously, yet here there were seven boxes. Lifting the lid, I stared at a pair of butterfly bow-tie pumps. I was tempted to try them on but didn’t want to look too excited, especially knowing that Gabriel enjoyed pissing me off. Closing the lid, I put the box back down and stepped back, nodding for the workers to keep going.
“You like?” Gabriel asked from behind me.
“They look a little small for you,” I said.
I heard him snicker, “You’re probably right, you’re free to have them instead.”
Crossing my arms, I watched the worker bees hurry about the suite. “I’m rich enough to buy all of this and more.”
He leaned over, his lips once again to my ear, making me feel warm with each word he spoke, “But isn’t it nice when someone else buys it for you?”
“No,” I said, turning to face him. “It makes me wonder what that someone is up to. I’m here, Gabriel. I’m waiting. Why don’t we lay our cards on the table before exchanging gifts?”
“Exchanging?” He smiled. “What did you bring for me?”
“Being on my good side. Having me on your side is gift, didn’t you know?”
His gray eyes did it again, mentally stripping me naked as they looked over my body. “I’m well aware.”
“Then why did you ask?” I didn’t wait for his answer, walking to the set table. One of the workers pulled out my chair for me while another pulled out Gabriel’s who waited for me to sit before sitting himself. Putting the napkin my lap, I lifted my glass and waited. One of the workers carefully poured the red wine then looked to Gabriel as he buttoned up the rest of his shirt before filling his glass.
We both waited, quietly drinking as we watched each other.
“Will that be everything?” one of the workers asked.
“Yes,” Gabriel replied but didn’t look away from me, his chest rising and falling slowly. “You all may go.”
It felt like it took forever for them all to leave when in reality it was only seconds. The air was so heavy, like the moment right before a rainstorm. Reaching over, he lifted the tray cover and in fluent French said, “le Homard bleu aux baies de myrte et gingembre.”
“Blue lobster and myrtle berries?”
“Blue Lobster with myrtle and ginger berries,” he nodded at the beautiful dish before us and refilled my wine glass for me. “You don’t understand French?”
“Why would I understand French? I’m Italian and Irish.” I reminded him, picking up my fork. But it was me who needed a reminder; I was here to question him, not the other way around. Putting my fork back down, I gave him my full attention. “And you knew that. You know a lot about me already yet I don’t know anything about you. You want it that way. If you don’t answer my questions, I will walk out and when I walk out, no one can make me come back. Not my grandmother, not even my mother, if she were alive.”
“Ask then, Dona,” he said before taking a bite of his
food and lifting his wine glass.
“What is your name?”
