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I shake my head. “No. I don’t think they would fully understand, to be honest. And they’re enjoying it so much right now, I don’t want to bring that down. I’ll tell them eventually, when the topic of coming back inevitably comes up. But they’re children, and they don’t have a deep attachment to it. They’ll understand, when the conversation happens.”
Bella nods. She bites her lip, looking up at the sky, and then back toward the villa. “We should start walking back,” she says quietly, and I can hear the quiver in her voice. This upset her—maybe more than I realized it would. And I hate that, because I never want to do anything that makes her unhappy.
She’s quiet, the whole walk back. Once we reach the villa, she heads upstairs, leaving me on the deck to stand and look out over the estate, knowing that she wants to be alone for a little while. That she needs some space, before I join her.
I also know that even once I go upstairs, it’s still going to feel as if there’s a million miles between us.
And there’s nothing I can do to change it.
21
BELLA
For the next few days, I throw myself into working on the house with Agnes. We’re getting closer to being finished—things that we ordered have started to come in, like tiles to replace the ones in the bathrooms that couldn’t be salvaged, drapes, and furniture to replace what was too outdated or too damaged to keep. I can see it all coming together, and it would be the one bright spot in an otherwise dark and stressful time—if I didn’t now know that it was all for the purpose of selling off the estate.
Still, the work distracts me—from a lot of things. It distracts me from the men who arrive from New York, fifteen more guards to add to the ones Gabriel already has watching the estate, sent by the don. It distracts me from how sleeping in bed next to Gabriel every night makes me feel, and how I wake up every morning with him pressed against me, wanting so badly to give in to all of the feelings rioting inside of me.
It distracts me most of all from the lingering dread, the feeling of waiting for the storm to break. If more men are here, that means Gabriel is anticipating an attack. Anticipating that something bad is coming, that Igor is going to make a move. And a part of me almost wishes he would just do it. Waiting for him to strike is almost a worse torture.
I think he knows that, and it’s part of his game.
I can feel the same tension in Gabriel every time I’m around him—tension over the lingering threat, tension over everything unaddressed between us. I can see him remembering that brief kiss a few days ago in the bedroom, every time he looks at me, thinking of where else it could have gone. And I can’t help thinking about it, too.
We haven’t had sex again, but it’s been close. Some mornings, I feel like I can barely stand not rolling over and pressing my mouth to his, wrapping myself around him and letting him do anything he might want to me. Some mornings, all I want to do is give in.
To just be his, for however long that lasts. Whatever that means. Even if it’s not as much as I want—even if it breaks my heart in the end.
I remind myself that we’re only sleeping in the same bed because he wants to keep an eye on me. Because he doesn’t want to confuse the children any more than our hasty marriage—and likely, our separation after all of this—already will. It has nothing to do with feelings, and everything to do with practicality.
Just like everything else about our marriage.
So I throw myself into everything I can to stop myself from thinking about the two things constantly weighing on me—the threat of Igor, and my feelings for Gabriel. I work on the house, I go on runs, and I try to avoid being alone with Gabriel as much as possible. But no matter how hard I try to put distance between us, it feels like we’re always drawn closer. When he looks at the work Agnes and I have done on the house and compliments it, when I see his gaze slide over me every time I walk into a room, when he smiles at me and whenever he draws me into a conversation—it all feels like an invisible thread, pulling us closer together.
I don’t understand why he’s dismantling his family estate. As someone who grew up without anyone other than my father for family, in a cold and unfeeling home, I can’t imagine wanting to let go of something with so much warmth and history. But I also know that it’s none of my business. I don’t need to understand, because as much as I love it here, as close as I’ve grown to Gabriel and his children—I’m not really a part of it. Gabriel promised me that he would end the marriage once I’m safe, if that’s what I want.
But no matter how often I tell myself that that freedom is what I want, that I never wanted to be trapped in an arranged marriage and still don’t, especially if I have feelings for the man I’m married to that he doesn’t have for me—it gets harder and harder for me to believe.
Gabriel gave me all the tools to be free. And once we go back to New York, with Igor gone, that’s what I’ll be for the first time in my life, if I leave. I’ll be independent, with my own money, all of my choices my own, for the first time. It’s what I’ve always wanted.
Don’t I owe it to myself to have that?
There’s no good answer.
The day after the don’s security arrives, Gabriel comes up to the villa to collect Cecelia and Danny to take them down to the paddocks for a riding lesson. Agnes and I are hanging drapes in the living room, and he waits for a moment, clearing his throat.
“Bella.”
Reluctantly, I turn around. I’ve been trying to avoid him as much as possible, but it’s difficult. It’s as if he wants to put himself in my way, wants to make it so that we have to talk, have to get to know each other better. I don’t know what he gets out of that, other than making it harder on us both.
“What?” I hook the end of the left drape, twisting around on the stepstool I’m standing on. “Do you need something?”
My voice is sharper than it should be—I’m tired and drained, my shoulders ache, and all of this is wearing on me. But if Gabriel notices, he doesn’t say anything about it.
“Remember when I told you to get a pair of riding boots?” He smiles mischievously at me. “Come down to the stables in a couple of hours. I want to take you out riding after I’m done with the kids’ lesson.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him no. I’ve been trying to avoid being alone with him—going on a horseback ride, even with security undoubtedly somewhere in the wings, is exactly the opposite of that.
But I have no idea how much longer we’ll be here. And a part of me does want that experience, at least once. I think Gabriel knows that, and that’s why he’s baiting me with it.
