Chapter 5 - The Woman in His ShirtFor security reasons, Gabriel insisted I sleep in his penthouse.
For sanity reasons, I insisted on a locked bedroom.
He gave me both.
At two in the morning, I woke thirsty and wandered into the kitchen wearing one of Gabriel's black shirts because my apartment looked as though a tornado had developed personal resentment toward me.
Gabriel was standing by the window.
Pacing.
I leaned against the doorway.
“So this is the famous stomping.”
He stopped.
“Couldn't sleep.”
“Neither could half the building.”
He looked at my bare legs.
Then immediately looked away.
That tiny act of restraint did something dangerous to my stomach.
I poured water.
“Tell me about your uncle.”
Gabriel remained silent for a moment.
“He helped raise me.”
That explained the pain beneath his anger.
“My father died when I was twenty-four. Vittorio became my adviser.”
“You trusted him.”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
“Now I don't trust anyone.”
I looked at him.
“You trust me.”
His eyes met mine.
“That is becoming inconvenient.”
I smiled.
“Good.”
For the first time, Gabriel smiled back.
It transformed him.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Enough to show me the man beneath all that control.
Then the penthouse alarm sounded.
Gabriel moved instantly.
He pulled me behind him as Marco entered.
“Security breach. Private elevator.”
The doors opened.
A woman stepped out.
Beautiful.
Elegant.
Furious.
She looked at Gabriel.
Then at me wearing his shirt.
“Oh,” she said.
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Because apparently bullets were not enough drama for one week.
“Who is she?” I asked.
The woman answered.
“His fiancée.”
I looked at Gabriel.
His expression could have frozen the Hudson.
“Former fiancée.”
She smiled.
“Technicality.”
Her name was Celeste Moreau.
And she knew far too much about Gabriel's security.
Within an hour, we discovered why.
Someone had used her old access credentials to enter the building.
Celeste swore it wasn't her.
Gabriel believed her.
I wasn't sure why that bothered me.
Until Celeste pulled me aside.
“You should leave him.”
“Excuse me?”
“Gabriel destroys everything he loves.”
“That's dramatic.”
“You don't know him.”
“Neither do you anymore.”
Her eyes narrowed.
Then she said something that stayed with me.
“Ask him why he really bought your building.”
I confronted Gabriel immediately.
He tried silence.
I had a broom-handle personality.
Silence never stood a chance.
Finally, he opened his safe.
Inside was a letter.
Written by my father.
Addressed to Gabriel.
If anything happens to me, protect Nora. She must never know what I did until Vittorio is gone.
The date was eight years ago.
I stared at Gabriel.
“You've known about me for eight years?”
“Yes.”
“You've been watching me?”
“From a distance.”
My skin prickled.
“The gallery job?”
“I approved it.”
“My apartment?”
“When your old building was sold last year, I made sure this unit became available.”
Anger crashed through me.
“You manipulated my life.”
“I protected it.”
“You don't get to decide those are the same thing!”
I walked away.
Gabriel didn't stop me.
That somehow hurt worse.
I spent the night downstairs in my ruined apartment.
At dawn, someone knocked.
I expected Gabriel.
Instead, Celeste stood outside.
She handed me a flash drive.
“If you want to know who Gabriel Rossi really is, watch this.”
Then she left.
I plugged it into my laptop.
Security footage appeared.
My father.
Vittorio.
And Gabriel.
The date was the night my father died.
Twenty-year-old Gabriel stood beside Vittorio outside the warehouse.
My stomach turned.
May you like
Gabriel hadn't merely known my father.
He had been there the night he was killed.
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