“I’ve been denied but I don’t live under a rock.” I hit the safari button and am instantly on line. “Are you going to monitor it?”
He smiles and this smile, it makes his eyes sparkle. “Are you going to visit any adult sites I need to monitor?”
“No. God!”
He laughs out loud at my reaction and I realize he was joking. It makes me smile.
“It’s exactly what it appears to be. No strings. Use it as you like. And just remember the gesture, Gabriela. I don’t have to be your enemy. I don’t want to be.”
I look at it again, then back up at him. “You knew I was calling Gabe?”
He nods.
“You know about him then? I mean, you know how he is?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
His expression darkens and he gestures to the menu. “Let’s talk about that later. I want to have a nice night. Do you know what you want?” he asks.
I scan the menu, nod.
He’s watching me when I look back up at him and when Lorenzo comes, he gestures for me to order.
I do.
In Italian.
And I realize something.
The menu was a test. Or he already knew I spoke the language. I wonder when he might have figured it out.
“You knew that too?” I ask when Lorenzo is gone.
He nods again.
“Anything else?”
“A few things,” he says.
His phone rings before I can press and his brows furrow together. He takes it. As soon as he does, his face darkens and he stands, setting his napkin on the table and walking away. He’s out of earshot but I hear his raised voice, at least momentarily raised. He kicks at a nearby table leg and I’m not the only one watching him now.
When he glances at me, I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
But he turns his back again and it’s another ten minutes before he’s back at the table. And his mood is black.
“What is it?” I ask. “Who was that?”
He doesn’t look at me and before he can answer, Lorenzo is back with our dishes.
But when Stefan finally meets my eyes, I know it’s bad. I know it’s very bad.
“There was a fire, Gabriela.”
Fire?
He says something else, but I’m still processing that word. Trying to make sense of the look in his eyes.
“Gabe?” I finally ask, feeling myself begin to shudder. Feeling tears burn my eyes.
He shakes his head, but I don’t have even a moment of relief because he tells me who in the next instant.
“Alex.”
Those tears spill down my cheeks. “Alex?”
He turns, gestures to one of his men and they’re all on their feet. He stands too, takes my arm. “Let’s go.”
I stand, my legs weak, knees wobbly. He holds me up and somehow, we maneuver through the closely packed tables and I don’t care about the people watching us. I don’t care about anything.
“Stefan?” I stop, turn to him once we’re inside the kitchen of the restaurant and the sounds and smells which a few minutes ago made my mouth water now make me nauseous.
He knows what I’m going to ask.
And I already know the answer. I don’t have to ask it. I see the answer on his face.
“Is he… Did he…”
“He’s dead, Gabriela. I’m sorry.”
Why did I ask? Why? I already knew so why did I ask? Why did I have to hear him say it? Say those words?
I don’t know how I get back to the car. Or how we get home. Or how, once we’re there, I get to my room while Stefan disappears somewhere downstairs. But somehow, I do. Somehow, I’m in my bedroom and on my bed and sobbing. Holding my new phone and sobbing.
All I can think about is Alex. Alex beaten because of me. Alex dead—because of me? Because my dad found out I’d gone to see him?
I think about his aunt. She knew I’d bring trouble.
Oh God, his aunt. Is she dead too?
Did my father do this to him? Fire. Killed by fire. Alex helpless in his wheelchair with his two broken legs because he helped me. All because he helped me.
God.
No.
How? How could this happen?
I stand up, take a step but my knees give out and I catch hold of the dresser, so I don’t fall. And there I see my iPod Touch. It was in my bag that I’d forgotten in Rafa’s car. He must have returned it while we were away.
On the screen I already see there’s a message.
My hands tremble as I pick it up because only one person messages me here.
I walk back to the bed and sit down. I force in a deep breath before I unlock the screen and open up the text box and the sobbing starts all over again when I see his name. See the message from Alex. It’s from yesterday.
I open it, see it’s a long text with a clown emoji. I smile at that. I hate clowns and he always uses that emoji just to poke fun at me.
But my smile fades as I read the text and I didn’t think I could feel colder. More alone.
More like a fool.
Except that this time, my foolishness has cost Alex not only his legs, but his life.
Betrayed.
I feel betrayed. And it’s like someone has my heart in their fist and is squeezing.
What was tonight about? Was it to raise my hopes high then watch me come crashing down? What did he get out of it? What would he get out of it?
My eyes blur and I have to wipe tears away to read it again because this is wrong. It can’t be.
When Rafa told me yesterday that Stefan was here and there and he’d be spending the night away, then told me about Clara being sent away, I assumed the worst. Well, what I’d thought the worst then.
I assumed he was spending the night with Clara.
But Stefan was in Rome.
Stefan had gone back to Alex’s aunt’s little house. He’d paid my friend a visit.
“Your boyfriend was here. Sorry, fiancé.
Don’t tell him I told you. He’s secretive, to say the least. But I thought you should know what he was asking about.
He wanted to know about Gabe and I told him. I told him the truth. All of it. I told him what your father tried to do when he found us together. And I told him Gabe took the bullet that was intended for me.
I think it’s better for you that I did. He knows where you’re coming from. And he knows now we’re really just friends and I think he’ll let us be. Even mentioned I should come to the wedding. Weird huh? I never thought I’d say this, but he may not be a bad guy.
Anyhow, message me when you get this.
Hey by the way, talked to Gabe today. He sounds good. Did you get a chance to call him? And do you think I’ll ever get through a conversation with him without breaking down like a girl?
Gotta go, Gabi. You take care.
Alex”
26
Stefan
The study door opens, slams against the wall and bounces off of it.
Gabriela stands in the doorway, her face puffy from crying, eyes alternately filled with rage then utter defeat.
“You liar. You fucking liar! You killed him! You went there and you killed him!”
I hang up the phone, shake my head at the guard who appears just outside the study.
“You killed him,” her voice breaks and her shoulders slump.