“A penny,” I correct. “Just one.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. John looked him over.”
“How did he get ahold of a penny?” Gabriel asks, as though he has never seen loose change before. I suppose he probably doesn’t bother with it.
“I had some change in my jeans,” I start to explain. “When I—”
Gabriel cuts me off in a harsh voice. “I want to see him tomorrow. I will send a car in the morning.”
My heart thuds to a halt. Silence hangs between us, and Clara bobs into my line of sight. I shoo her away and turn around.
“I think Harry would really like that,” I say. “But you do know that where he goes, I go.”
“Yes,” Gabriel replies curtly. “I’m aware.”
And then he hangs up.
I bring the phone away from my face and stare at it disbelievingly. Clara comes over and eyes me, unsure whether my open-mouthed expression is due to a good kind of shock or a bad kind of shock. Truth be told, I’m not sure either.
“What is it?” she asks.
“I’m going to see Gabriel tomorrow,” I reply. “He wants to see Harry.”
Clara rolls her eyes and sighs. “Oh brother.”
13
Alexis
My heart races the entire drive to the mansion. I try circular breathing, calming mantras, and distractions, but it still pounds against the back of my ribs like a jackhammer. I feel like I’m going to throw up. I check the envelope in my purse again, as though it might have gone somewhere since I left the apartment. It’s still there.
I don’t know why I’ve bothered. He’s not going to talk to me. Or if he does, I doubt it will be friendly. I don’t know what to expect, and I think that’s what’s killing me most of all. Gabriel might be cold and dismissive. He might pretend I don’t exist entirely. I’m not sure which would be the worst-case scenario.
When we pull through the front gates and start meandering up the long drive, my heart kicks into overdrive. I take in the familiar scenery as we crawl toward the house, noting that the trees lining the drive, which were leafy and green in the summer months, are now dull and barren. A low morning mist floats above the rolling lawn, and the dark gray clouds hanging overhead complete the unwelcoming scene.
The house rises ahead, breathtaking as always. A suited figure stands under the columned portico, and my breath catches. I soon realize the man is much too small to be Gabriel, however, and when we come to a stop, I see it is Silvano Gambaro.
The driver, David, gets out and opens the door for me, and I unclip Harry from his car seat and step out into the chilly air. Silvano walks over to greet me.
“Welcome back,” he says. “Gabriel wanted a doctor to examine Harry. He’s waiting just inside.”
It is unclear whether Silvano means that Gabriel is waiting inside or the doctor, but when I enter the marbled foyer, I am disappointed to see it is the latter. The doctor is a tall, thin man with thick square glasses. When he lifts his arm to shake my hand, his sleeve pulls back a little to expose black ink running up his arms.
“I’m Dr. Green,” he says.
I adjust my grip on Harry to shake his hand, wondering if that is his real name. “Alexis,” I reply. “And this is the patient, Harry.”
I peer around the room, but there’s no trace of Gabriel anywhere. The anticipation is killing me.
Dr. Green grins warmly at Harry. “Ah yes, the little troublemaker. Let’s go get him checked out.”
Silvano leads us out of the foyer and toward the dining room, which has been transformed into a makeshift examination area, with various instruments laid out on the sideboard, and the grand table moved aside for an examination table instead.
I hover close by as Dr. Green performs many of the same checks that John did yesterday, as well as a few he didn’t. He is surprisingly warm throughout the whole process and manages to keep Harry calm. I keep an eye on the doorway, wondering when Gabriel will show up.
“He’s going to be completely fine,” Dr. Green announces finally. “I would keep him away from your change bowl just in case, lest he starts to jingle when he walks.” He tickles Harry in the belly, and Harry shrieks with laughter.
I notice Silvano has pulled out his phone and is speaking quietly into the receiver, and my heart constricts. He’s calling Gabriel. I’m sure of it.
Dr. Green takes his leave, and Silvano smiles at me. “Gabriel would like to see Harry in the living room.”
“Is it okay if I go too?” I ask irritably.
Silvano nods, and I lift Harry into my arms and follow Gabriel’s second through to the living room.
When I step inside, the nostalgia of it all almost makes me falter. There are two tall cherrywood bookshelves lining opposite walls, and long arched windows gaze out at the garden beyond. Two elegant red leather sofas sit across from one another, with an antique coffee table floating between.
I have spent hours in this room—playing with Harry, researching and writing articles, reading one of the hundreds of books stacked on the shelves. This was the room where I tried to interview Gabriel after he first learned he was a father. My eye lingers on the cushioned back of the closest sofa, where the heated exchange ended with Gabriel ruthlessly fucking me.
Gabriel is sitting on the furthest sofa, one long leg crossed over the other, the paper open in his lap. He starts to fold it as we enter, but doesn’t look up.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Silvano says, ducking from the room.
“Daddy!” Harry exclaims.
When Gabriel’s face lifts, his eyes do not meet mine. He gets to his feet, grinning, and strides over to pull Harry into his arms. My breath catches at his closeness, as the scent of sandalwood and musk envelops me, but Gabriel doesn’t even acknowledge me. He may as well be lifting Harry out of a high chair.
“There’s my boy,” Gabriel says, walking back to the sofa. He sinks down and starts to tickle Harry. “I heard you ate something you shouldn’t have. Should I shake you and see if you jingle?”
Harry squirms, giggling. “No!”
My heart splinters. All that warmth, and yet he leaves me in the cold. It hurts being this close to him. It hurts that he seems to be pretending I don’t exist. And it’s not fucking fair.
“Are you even going to look at me?” I snap.
Both Gabriel and Harry pause. Gabriel’s eyes lift to the doorway, where I am standing with my fists clenched at my sides.
His smile melts away, and his eyes glaze with contempt. He looks beautiful. Fierce. I trace the stern lines of his cheeks, the sensual curve of his lips, the bottomless depths of his black eyes.
Heat fills my belly, a potent mixture of anger and lust. I can’t help it. Our relationship has always volleyed between fucking and fighting, and the tenderness that grew between us took time to fully blossom. But always the fucking. Always the fighting. Seeing him angry instinctively stirs something dark inside of me.
I push past it and walk toward Gabriel, digging in my purse to pull out the thick manila folder. I hold it out for him, and he takes it reluctantly.
“What is this?” Gabriel asks.
I sit on the sofa next to him and pull Harry onto my lap. “It’s everything I know about the Cartel and their drug operations,” I tell him. “Who they’re dealing to, which houses they’re dealing from, where they’ve been arranging meetings with their Irish contacts.”