by Madison, Mia
I don’t get happy endings. I get divorce, and death, and all kinds of loss. That’s been my life so far; successful on the career front, but a shambling wreck on the emotional one.
It’s hard to believe that things might change, that I could live a normal life surrounded by family and friends. I want it so much that it scares me. If I let myself trust in this, if I reach for more, will fate turn the tables and leave me devastated?
Gabriel feels like home, in a way no man ever has. If I let my emotions free with him, and then lose him … I’m not sure I’d survive. He seems to want this; but maybe it’s just a temporary infatuation, and he’ll wake up tomorrow ready to tell me So long, and have a nice life.
“Hey.” He’s got that too-perceptive look on his face. “It’ll be okay.”
“What will?”
“All of it.”
“That’s quite a promise.” I nibble my garlic bread, not meeting his eyes.
He doesn’t answer, just takes his empty plate to the sink and starts cleaning up. A leaden ball forms in my stomach. If I stick with this gloom-and-doom attitude, I could drive him away.
Rising, I go to him and wrap my arms around his waist from behind, laying my head on his back. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so … wimpy.”
He turns and folds me in his arms, and as always, it settles every restless thing inside me. When he’s holding me, it’s like nothing bad could possibly happen.
“It’s okay,” he says, his lips brushing the top of my head. “I get it. You haven’t had a lot of people in your life that you could lean on.”
His understanding lets my deepest fears rise up and spill out of my mouth. “Everyone I’ve ever loved has left me.”
“Ah, babe.” He hugs me tighter. “Life can really fuck with us sometimes. But the past isn’t destiny.”
The weight on my heart seems to lighten. “No, it isn’t, is it?” Maybe that’s why I can believe in a future when he’s holding me. He’s so real, so strong. My harbor from the storm.
We do the dishes together. “Want to watch a movie?” he asks when we’re done.
“Sure.”
Once we’re snuggled up together on his comfy sofa, Gabriel scrolls down a list of films. We settle on a hit from last year that neither of us has seen yet. He starts the movie, and the first scene fills the screen.
I’m asleep before the opening credits roll.
The next thing I know, he’s carrying me again, cradled against his chest. I’m vaguely aware of him taking the robe off me, and then I’m curled up in bed with a man-shaped electric blanket at my back.
I’ve never slept with a man before, never had anyone but me in my bed. Not even a pet. It doesn’t matter.
Sleep pulls me under in seconds.
* * *
I wake to morning sun filtering through the blinds on the windows. We’re still in bed, still spooning, but now I can feel how happy Gabriel is to have me here. I stir, and a thumb strokes across my nipple.
My breath catches. “Good morning,” his deep voice says in my ear. “Did you sleep okay?”
I slept great. But I don’t bother saying that, just turn to face him and wrap my hand around him.
“Guess you did.” Grinning, he rolls me onto my back. I hook my leg around his and flip us again, and then we’re laughing, wrestling, tumbling around on the bed like puppies.
Somewhere in all our tussling, he manages to get his t-shirt off me, and his mouth and fingers on certain strategic parts of my anatomy. By the time he pins me to the mattress, I’m wet and ready for him.
He fills me slowly, until I rock my hips up and lock my arms and legs around him. Then he takes me with long, deep strokes, and before long I start to climax. A few more thrusts, and he follows me, shuddering through his own release.
As the afterglow fades, awareness returns. He’s turned us so I’m on top. I kiss his chest and say, “We did it again.”
A pause, and then, “We did, didn’t we? I swear I’m not consciously trying to get you pregnant, but I can’t vouch for my subconscious.”
“I think our bodies are conspiring against us.”
“Could be. Nothing like primitive biological urges to short-circuit the brain.” His hand strokes down my spine, reaches my ass, squeezes. “We still have the raspberries and chocolate sauce from Armando’s. Let’s have dessert for breakfast.”
I’m about to express my enthusiastic agreement when the doorbell rings.
My fight-or flight system immediately kicks into high gear. What if it’s Kukor and he’s violent after all? What if he has a gun?
“Who the fuck? Stay here, babe.” Gabriel eases me off him, rolls out of bed, and pulls on his robe. I fight the urge to beg him not to go.
Huddling in the bed, I tell myself that everything’s okay and to stop being silly. I’m listening for any tiny noise, any hint of what’s happening.
The front door opens and I tense. Voices say things I can’t understand. A few seconds later, Gabriel reappears, looking disgruntled. “Time to get up, babe.”
“Who’s here?”
“Family.” He starts rooting in his dresser for clothes.
“Your brothers?”
“Them too.”
I’m confused by the whole situation. “What time is it?”
“Early.” He tosses me a pair of gray flannel gym shorts with a drawstring waist, a clean t-shirt, and a pair of boxer briefs. “These’ll have to do until we can pick up some of your clothes. Go ahead and shower while I deal with everyone.”
He’s gone again before I can respond, pulling the bedroom door closed behind him. I climb out of bed and go into the bathroom, standing distracted under the shower’s spray.
Until we can pick up some of your clothes. That sounds like Gabriel thinks I’m staying with him, temporarily or indefinitely. Maybe, since we’re already playing pregnancy Russian roulette, he just assumes I’m moving in with him.
For some reason, that makes me more nervous than sex without a condom. Living with someone, you can’t avoid all the unglamorous, unsexy moments. What better way to kill a relationship that’s still finding its feet?
When I cautiously open the bedroom door a few minutes later, delicious smells waft down the hallway. My stomach rumbles again. The low murmur of voices reaches me; I can’t make out what they’re saying.
The living room and kitchen are full of people. Gabriel’s brothers are here, most of them in a huddle, talking. I also see Juliet — who sends me a sympathetic smile — and some people I don’t know, but who have what I’m beginning to recognize as an Adamo look about them.
A couple come over to me; Gabriel reaches me at the same time. The woman has long dark hair and turquoise eyes, and the man is tall and dark and built. Vintage Adamo. “Rachel, these are my parents, Olivia and Raul Adamo. This is Rachel Wilson.”
Oh, god. His parents, and here I am wearing his clothes, as if it weren’t obvious enough what we’ve been up to. At least I’ve showered. “Hello; it’s nice to meet you.”
Olivia gives me a warm smile. “We’re very happy to meet you, Rachel.”
A tiny woman who must be in her eighties joins us. “My grandmother, Mimi Adamo,” Gabriel says. “Nonna, this is Rachel.”
“You have a stalker,” she says without preamble. She may be elderly, but her voice is firm, her eyes clear, and from the sound of it, her mind is as sharp as ever.
“That’s right,” I say cautiously.
Mimi mutters something in Italian; from her tone of voice, and the looks on her family’s faces, I suspect it’s not very ladylike. “Don’t you worry,” she says, and pats my hand. “We’ll take care of you.”
“Thank you.” I hope my bafflement doesn’t show. Is Mimi a retired commando or something? With this family, nothing would surprise me.
Stefano’s in the kitchen, cooking. He’s got eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, and French toast all served up. There’s a fruit compote he whipped up for a topping; the orange halves he’
s currently disposing of testify that the juice in a glass pitcher is freshly made.
He’s not saying a word, but he’s here and he’s feeding everyone.
There’s an actual dining room on the other side of the kitchen, so we take all the food in there. Judging from the built-in bookshelves that line the walls, it was turned into a study at one point.
Once we’re all seated, Rafael starts talking. “Rachel, we reviewed the footage from the security cams covering our parking lot, as well as the ones at Armando’s. The guy wore a ski mask both times, so we can’t say with certainty that it’s Kukor. There are also no fingerprints on the envelopes.”
“Darn. I guess I’m not surprised, but I was hoping.”
“We all were.” Rafael pauses, his eyes flicking to Gabriel, who gives him a slight nod. “Kukor was at your home sometime overnight. He left a decapitated teddy bear outside your door.”
The blood drains from my face. Gabriel grabs my hand and squeezes hard enough to almost hurt, and it brings me back to the moment. I wind my fingers through his and hang on.
“He also showed up here.”
I don’t even realize I’ve moved until I’m on my feet. “No.” My voice is too loud. “No, he can’t come here.”
Gabriel’s standing too. “Babe.”
“He can’t come here!”
“He can’t hurt me.” His voice is quiet, gentle, but certain. Too certain.
“You don’t know that.” My voice is shaking.
“Rachel, I know this guy is a pissant and a coward. He thinks he’s clever, but he’s never gone up against people like us.
“We’re gonna catch him. And in the meantime, you and I are both gonna be smart, and not play his games.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Okay.” He kisses my forehead and we sit back down. Everyone’s watching us, but I don’t see any pity on their faces, any scorn.
No one here thinks I’m weak, or silly, for being scared and wanting to protect Gabriel.
“What did he do here?” I ask Rafael. I don’t want to know the answer; it makes me furious that Kukor has defiled this place with his presence. But I can’t hide.
“He carved a skull and crossbones into the front door.”
I stare at him, then turn to Gabriel. “I’m sorry about your door, but what is that supposed to mean? That he’s a pirate? That you are?”
His mouth twitches. “I think he was just going for skull equals death equals scary.” He loads a plate with food from the platters in the center of the table and sets it in front of me.
Where to start? So many things that I would normally never eat, but last night I had spaghetti, and this morning I feel fine. And hungry.
I cut into a pancake as Rafael goes on. “Given his behavior, we want to move on this right away, see if we can get him wrapped up in a nice neat bow and delivered to law enforcement before he escalates things any further.”
“Good. What can I do?”
“You can stay safe,” Gabriel says immediately. I narrow my eyes at him. “Babe, this whole operation is pointless if you put yourself at risk.”
“I didn’t say anything about putting myself at risk.” From the corner of my eye, I see Gabriel’s mother hide a smile. “This man is messing up my life, and now he’s trying to mess up yours, and I’m not having it.”
A muscle tightens in his jaw. “And what would you suggest?”
“He wants me. So use me.” I gesture at the family members sitting around the table. “Juliet and your mother and I could go out shopping somewhere.
“He’ll think it’s safe to approach. I can wear a wire, get him talking. I’ll ask him to stop harassing me, bring up the teddy bear, the skull and crossbones, anything he could confess to.
“You and your brothers can pick the location and have everything set up in advance so it’s safe. You’ll catch him in the act, and we’ll have all the evidence we need.”
“That’s actually a pretty good plan,” Enzo says.
“Are you crazy?” Gabriel retorts. “You want to make three women in our family sitting ducks?”
My face heats at him including me in his family. “Gabe,” Enzo says. “In case you hadn’t noticed, none of these women are pushovers. This guy tries something, they’ll kick his ass.”
“We think we know how he’s going to act. What if we’re wrong? What if he’s more violent than we anticipate?”
No one answers. “Can you keep track of him?” I say, “I mean, every second. If you can, you can use me as bait and grab him before he ever gets near me.”
“But then we wouldn’t have much in the way of evidence,” Enzo points out. “He’s got to do something criminal for us to nail him.”
“We’re going to do surveillance on him in any case,” Rafael says. “So let’s get that going, and we can talk about our other options later.”
The doorbell rings.
8
Unfinished Business
I’m still simmering as I go to answer the door. The thought of Rachel putting herself where that creep can get to her makes me crazy. No fucking way do I want that to happen.
I check my security system to see who’s there, and it’s none other than Rob Wilson. Rachel’s big brother, and my best friend — except for Daniel — when I was a kid. Getting in touch to read him the riot act about his sister was on my list of things to do once Kukor was taken care of.
Well, now he’s saved me the trouble. I open the door, and he walks right in without waiting for an invitation. “Gabe. I need your help.”
Rob and I joined up together, but when he didn’t make the cut for special forces training, it drove a wedge between us. We’ve kept in touch over the years, but we’ve never been as close as we were growing up. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Rachel. She’s not answering her phone. I went by her place, and she’s not there, but some weirdo left a hacked-up teddy bear there. You gotta help me find her.”
Soft footfalls behind me. Rachel says, “Rob?”
For a long moment, he just stares at her. At his little sister, barefoot, dressed in what are unmistakably my clothes. Then his face twists.
“You son of a bitch,” he says, and swings at me.
He’s out of shape these days, and it’s not hard to get his arm twisted up behind his back and pin him, struggling, against the wall. The noise brings everyone else into the entry area. “Let me go, you fuckface!” he yells.
“You need to calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down! That’s my sister!”
“I know who she is.” Better than he does, I’m pretty sure.
“Let me go, damn you.”
Releasing him, I take two steps back. He turns, face red, and glares at me before he registers the presence of the other people in the room. The sight of my parents, and nonna Mimi, takes some of the wind out of his sails.
But not enough. He sneers at Rachel, “Here I was worried about you, and you’re shacked up with Gabriel fucking Adamo? Jeez, sis, if you’re gonna put out at least go for a rich guy.”
My fist lays him out flat. Rachel stares at his prone form, her lips compressed, two spots of color high on her cheeks.
I wait for Rob to come around. As soon as he’s conscious, I crook my finger at him. He blanches. “Gabe …”
“Get up.”
He does, warily, expecting me to knock him down again. Instead, I say, “Rachel can speak for herself. But I’m telling you, from me, that if you ever talk to her, or about her, that way again, I will put you in the fucking hospital.”
Rob hangs his head and doesn’t respond. Nobody says a word. Finally, he glances around at all of us and says, “What the fuck is going on, anyway?”
It’s Rachel who answers. “I have a stalker.”
“A stalker? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”
“Gee, I don’t know why not, since you’re such a big defender of mine.” He has the grace to look ashamed. “I’m used to handling things
on my own, Rob. You have your own family now; I didn’t want to involve you in my problems.”
“For fuck’s sake, Rachel. I’m your brother.”
“I know you are,” she says quietly. “But we don’t see each other that often. We lead separate lives.”
Rob shoves his hands in his pockets. When he speaks, his voice is rough. “I thought you wanted it that way. Dad … he said you didn’t want me around, that Mom had poisoned you against both of us.”
“That’s bullshit. She never spoke a word against either one of you.”
“Fuck. What a mess.” Rob scrubs his hands over his face. He looks tired, and a little lost.
I look at Rachel and tilt my head toward the kitchen. Her eyes soften, and she nods. “Have you eaten?” I ask Rob.
“What?”
“Breakfast. We’ve got a ton of food in the other room.”
He opens his mouth, closes it again. Finally, he says, “Sure, okay.” So we all file back into the dining room, and while we eat, we fill him in on the situation.
“That’s fucked up,” he says when we’ve finished. His eyes light on Rachel’s plate. “I thought models had to starve themselves.”
Rachel colors, and I wish her brother were sitting next to me instead of across the table so I could whack him upside the head. “I’m an ex-model,” she says.
“Oh. I thought you were all into that glamour shit.” She stares at her plate and gives a tiny shake of her head. “Why’d you do it, if you didn’t like it?”
“Excuse me.” Her voice quavers as she stands and leaves the room. Juliet goes after her.
Rob starts to get up, but I stop him. He looks a little annoyed, but mostly baffled. “What’d I say?”
So I tell him why his sister started modeling, and kept modeling. His shock and dismay are obvious; Rob’s never been much of an actor. “Jesus fucking Christ. I had no idea.”
“It sounds like your dad fed you a line, Rob. To keep you on his side, and away from your mom and Rachel.”