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It’s just a matter of when, not if.
I watch as the car leaves, until it vanishes from view. And then I take a deep breath, and head back into the villa.
Agnes and I are working on the library today, and I don’t want to change up our plans, even if I’d rather be in almost any other room right now. But if I try to tell her that, she’s going to want to know why, and I can just see the look on her face when I try to bluff my way through that. I was never meant to be a poker player.
So instead, I opt to clean the fireplace, since it’s at least on the opposite side of the room from where Gabriel’s had his hands all over me.
“You’re quiet,” Agnes comments as she starts in on another shelf of books, pulling stacks of them free to dust each of them, as well as dusting, washing, and waxing the shelves. “Gabriel isn’t letting you get much sleep, hm?” She winks at me, mischief dancing in her eyes, and I sigh. I don’t mind her teasing, but today, I feel too tired to play along.
“It’s an arranged marriage, Agnes,” I remind her. “Just because we’re sharing the same bedroom doesn’t mean we’re—” I wave a hand, and she snorts.
“Hmph. The two of you are ridiculous.” She waves the rag in her hand, as if to emphasize her point. “You’re married. You both have feelings for each other. Enjoy it.”
“It’s—” I break off before I can tell her the truth, that Gabriel and I have already discussed the ending of this. That I know I’m going to leave eventually. That Gabriel and I have gone too far, crossed too many lines, for us to go back to the way things were before.
“You’re good for him,” Agnes says with finality, as if that’s all that matters. “He closed himself off for a long time. You’ve opened him back up. Made him feel things again. Made him younger. I can see it on his face. All of the rest of it—” She waves a hand again. “You two will figure it out.”
I let out a sharp breath, scrubbing the bricks of the fireplace a little more vigorously. Deep down, I know she’s at least partially right. I know that being with me has brought out parts of Gabriel that he shoved down for a long time. That the man who speeds down a back road in his Ferrari and goes swimming at night is the kind of man he was before he experienced devastating loss. I know that it’s not just me who has been partially healed by this relationship. I know I’ve helped him, too.
That doesn’t mean this marriage is anything other than what we’ve both agreed it is.
I sit back on my heels after a little while, looking at the rich color of the bricks now that I’ve cleaned them. There are places where they’re crumbling and worn, but it doesn’t affect the integrity of the fireplace, and I actually think I like it. It gives the room a rustic, warm aesthetic that fits with the old bookcases and the vintage furniture. It feels cozy, like a soft, old cashmere sweater that’s been held onto for years. Once the upholstery is finished being repaired and the floors are refinished—and new drapes hung to replace the moth-eaten ones—the library will be a perfect haven.
It’s easy to imagine it in the winter, a fire roaring, snow on the grass of the estate outside, the inside of the library warm and welcoming. Christmas decorations on the mantel, maybe.
My chest ached, just thinking about it, because if we were still here by then, that would mean the threat from Igor hasn’t gone away. It would mean we’re all still in danger. And I can’t imagine that he’ll let it go on for that long.
It will come to a head, I think, one way or another, sooner than that. A ball of ice forms in the pit of my stomach at the thought. And the ache in my chest doesn’t subside.
Whatever the conditions of my relationship with Gabriel, whatever we’ve agreed on, even if I feel sure that the best outcome of all of this is us parting ways when Igor is dealt with instead of falling prey to him again—I can’t ignore the fact that with every day that passes…with every day that has passed since I first met him, I’m falling more and more in love with Gabriel. And not just that.
I’m falling more and more in love with this house. This place. The estate and its beauty, how far removed it feels from New York, and everything that city represents to me. If I had Clara here, it would be perfect. And I can’t help but think that if we were safe, and still here, I could have Clara come and visit whenever I want. Gabriel owns a private jet. She could fly out for a weekend and be back at work on Monday.
I want Igor to be dealt with. I don’t want any of us to live in fear for a moment longer than we have to. I want Cecelia and Danny to feel safe. I want us all to be safe.
But I don’t want our time here to end.
I swallow hard, dropping the brush into the pail of water with a thud. “I’ll take this downstairs,” I tell Agnes, needing a moment to myself. And as I walk out of the room, down the freshly cleaned and waxed staircase that we worked on just before the wedding, I can’t help but feel that this place has become more of my home than anywhere else I’ve been, in a very short time.
I want to stay. But I don’t think that’s how this ends.
—
The next day, Gabriel drives me and Cecelia and Danny—with ample security, of course—into town to do some shopping. All of the cooking for our wedding dinner depleted Agnes’ groceries, and I have a list of things we need for the house.
“I have a lunch meeting,” Gabriel tells me, as he parks the car. “So, you’ll be on your own with them for lunch. Is that alright?”
“I think we can handle that.” I smile at the kids, and they nod eagerly. “Let’s do some shopping. We’ll meet you back here around two?”
“Sure thing.” Gabriel hesitates for the briefest second, and I can once again see the thought that flickers across his face—the moment where he almost gives me a casual kiss goodbye.
And then it passes, and he pulls back.
“Be good for Bella, okay?” He glances back at Cecelia and Danny. “Don’t give her a hard time or beg for too many new things.”
“We would never,” Cecelia assures Gabriel, and he laughs.
“I know how convincing you two can be.”
