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“After nine years, I walk away, get a job, a nice house for Charlie and me, and get out of your hair.”
“You’re not in my hair, kiddo, but I worry about you.”
“I know.” I push my chair back, desperately needing air. “I’m taking Charlie for a walk.”
“I’ll order dessert. Tiramisu?”
“Sounds good. Come on, Charlie.” I take my brother’s arm and cross the Rosebank Square to stroll down the walkway past the shop fronts. Charlie stops to stare at every window. It’s not as much the objects he likes as the colors.
“Charlie?”
He points at a red bicycle in the sports shop. “Loo–look.”
“What?” I want him to say it. I want to know what’s going on in his head.
“Pre–pretty.”
“What’s pretty?”
“Lo–look.” He points again, getting frustrated.
“The bicycle?”
He’s already moved on, stuck in front of a shelf of colorful cycling helmets.
“Li–like.”
“Which one?”
He rolls his shoulders like he does when he gets annoyed and carries on down the path with a brisk pace.
I run to catch up, taking his hand. “Do you remember how you used to walk me home from school?”
He hurries on toward the street. Once Charlie is on a mission, it’s difficult to distract him. He throws his whole weight into a task and won’t stop until he’s accomplished what he’s set out to do. I’m longing for the connection we once had. I’m aching to have my brother back, to give him back to himself, but he’s in his own world, and I sometimes wonder if I’m even part of it.
We stop in front of a red Ferrari parked on the curb. This is what attracted his attention. When he puts out his hand to touch the shiny bodywork, I snatch it back.
“Don’t touch the car. What did I say about touching things that aren’t ours?”
“That’s all right,” a male voice says.
I twirl around to where the voice comes from. The man facing us has blond hair and a tanned face with friendly, green eyes.
“You can touch it if you like,” he says to Charlie. “It’s mine.”
The man is as beautiful as his car. It’s the kind of sinful beauty that will make a woman forget her male companion at a party.
I tug on Charlie’s hand. “We should go.”
“I can take him for a spin, if you like.”
“Spi–spin.”
“Uh, thanks,” I push my hair behind my ear, “but my friend’s waiting for us.”
“Pity.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Michael.”
I reach out tentatively, but before I can make up my mind, he folds his broad palm around mine and squeezes. When I don’t say anything, he gives me an amused smile.
“Your name?”
“Valentina.”
“That’s pretty.” He lets me go and shakes hands with Charlie. “You have good taste, eh…” He lifts a brow and waits.
“Charlie,” I say.
“Pleased to meet you both. Maybe we can talk about that spin. If you give me your number, I can call when it’s convenient.”
“Our dessert is ready.” The word ‘dessert’ will catch Charlie’s attention. “Thank you, anyway.”
Charlie lets me lead him back across the square to our table.
“Who’s that?” Kris asks.
“I don’t know. Charlie liked his car.”
“Ditto.” She waves her spoon at the plate in front of me. “Dig in. It’s delicious.”
* * *
It’s hard to say goodbye to Charlie. At least he seems happy. I let that thought soothe me as I cross the street to where Gabriel’s Jaguar waits. It’s Rhett who exits.
“Hi,” I say, surprised. Gabriel said he’d fetch me.
“Gabriel’s busy,” he says with a wink, holding the door for me.
I wait until we pull off into traffic to ask, “Where is he?”
“Business.”
A shiver runs over me. Is he breaking someone’s bones? Killing someone?
Rhett gives me a sidelong look. “It’s better not to ask.”
“I wasn’t going to.” I glance through the window to escape his piercing eyes.
“On the upside,” he continues brightly, “we can train.”
I turn back to him quickly. “Really?”
“He’ll be busy until late.”
My mood picks up. I have to learn how to handle myself. Gabriel won’t be there to protect me forever. Like Kris said, he may grow tired of his new toy sooner than later.
Rhett changes gears and speeds up when we hit the highway. “Why the sad face? Is your brother all right?”
“Sunday blues.” I try to smile, but it’s a weak effort.
We don’t talk for the rest of the way. At home, I change into my shorts and T-shirt and join Rhett in the gym. It’s weird to be here out of my own, free will. The gym represents a place of erotic pain and deep-seated pleasure for me. My body reacts at the thought, sending moisture to my folds. I shake my head and jiggle my fingers, physically expelling the unwelcome arousal at the memory of what Gabriel does to me here.
“Ready?” Rhett walks around me like a boxer measuring his opponent.
“Give me your worst.”
He laughs. “You’re a funny one.”
