You’re going to be a star, Abs. Just like your mom.
The words pushed against her and she frowned, slowing to a stop, dropping her head forward. Tears sparkled in her eyes when she thought of her father, when she thought of the fact that he was alone in America, that he was such a stubborn ass he’d let her go. No, he hadn’t let her go. He’d pushed her—hard—out of his life.
She made a grunting noise, forcibly removing such thoughts, and continued to dance, pushing herself harder and harder, performing a grande jeté high in the air before landing gracefully on her feet and pushing up en pointe.
Had she known he was watching?
No.
Yet the sight of Gabe, draped against the door, as he had been the first time she’d practised in here, didn’t surprise her. Their eyes met and everything inside her coiled tight like a spring. She was very still as the music swirled around them, enveloping them, throbbing with tension.
‘Don’t stop.’ The words were more than a gravelly command. They were a hoarse, desperate plea.
She didn’t like the way he told her what to do—her cheeks flushed because deep down she liked it very much—but she wanted to show her free will as much as possible. She felt his desperation, the lure of his need, and turned back to the dance, once again feeling it as though it were a part of her.
She didn’t close her eyes though. If he wanted to watch her, then she wanted to watch him, to see the play of emotions on his face as she pirouetted around the room. For a moment she remembered what it had been like to perform, wearing the beautiful yet hard and scratchy costumes, the feet that had ached, the rapturous attention of the audience, the adoration from the other dancers. Though she’d come up against some jealousy, Abby moved so beautifully, so instinctively, that most ballerinas had simply accepted she was different to the rest of them.
After half an hour the piece came to a stop and Abby paused with it, remembering the last movement of choreography as though she’d learned it only the day before. The attitude derrière was the final step and she held it long after the last note had throbbed around them, her eyes meeting Gabe’s, locking to his, before she eased her foot down and returned to standing.
She waited, her breath held, uncertain what he would say, only feeling that something powerful had shifted between them, something new and interesting.
‘You…’ He frowned, the words apparently stuck deep inside him. His voice was hoarse and she was glad because she knew it was emotion that did that. He had watched her and he’d felt something. That was the point of ballet, wasn’t it? ‘That was incredible.’
The praise, though not the most lavish she’d ever received, made her heart soar because praise wasn’t something Gabe Arantini offered often.
‘Thank you,’ she said, even more pleased when she sounded calm in the face of her racing heart. ‘How was Rome?’
He dipped his head forward and she had no idea what the gesture was supposed to convey.
‘How is Raf?’
She smiled; she couldn’t help it. ‘Delightful.’
He arched a brow. ‘You seem well. Less tired.’
‘Well, having round-the-clock nanny care will do that for a mom,’ she pointed out.
He nodded. ‘I think he is settled here too.’
‘Well, it’s only been a few weeks. But yes. He seems to be settling in well.’
He frowned, and she had the sense that he was trying to find words, that he was looking for what to say. But he didn’t speak, and so Abby did. ‘I…guess I’ll go take a shower.’
He nodded but when she was almost at the door he reached out, wrapping his fingers around her wrist. ‘Did you sleep in my bed?’
She blinked, the question unexpected. ‘No.’
He made a small tsking noise. ‘And here I was, imagining you there.’
She swallowed. ‘It felt weird.’
He scanned her face intently and then nodded. ‘No matter. There is tonight.’
Her stomach rolled with anticipation.
‘I have to catch up on some work. Have lunch with me later? There’s something I need to discuss with you.’
If she’d been planning on refusing, the last short sentence scuppered that intention. Curiosity fanned in her chest. ‘Okay.’
She took a step towards the door but, instead of letting her go, he pulled her back to his body, firm, and she felt then that he was so hard, all of him, and she groaned softly under her breath.
‘Did you miss me?’ he asked softly, lifting his hand to her hair and tangling his fingers in its length.
‘You were only gone for a night,’ she pointed out.
‘Was I? It felt like longer.’
CHAPTER TEN
THE BUTTERFLIES IN her stomach were rampant, swishing their delicate wings against her sides, making it difficult to concentrate on anything. She barely noticed the beautiful table she was led to, in a part of the castle she was yet to explore. A balcony beyond would be beautiful in warmer weather, but for now it remained sealed off, thick glass doors keeping the cold out but allowing an unimpeded view of the alpine scenery. A light dusting of snow had begun to fall and some of it settled on the railing as she watched. The table was round, large enough to comfortably accommodate six, but only two place-settings had been laid, and with the kind of cutlery and glassware one would find in a six-star restaurant.
She sucked in a deep breath, telling herself it was ridiculous to be nervous. The engagement ring Gabe had given her sparkled on her finger and Abby tried to draw strength from the beauty of its design—and failed. It was so lovely and perfect that it only added to her nervousness.
The domestic who’d shown her to the table had poured a glass of wine and Abby took a sip now, grateful to have something to occupy her hands. The alcohol was cold and yet warmed her insides. She closed her eyes and drew in another deep breath; when she blinked them open Gabe was striding into the room, a large black shopping bag held in one hand, so handsome that her breath snagged in her throat.
‘I was held up,’ he said by way of explanation rather than apology.
A wry smile touched Abby’s lips.
‘It’s fine. I’ve only been here a few minutes.’
He nodded, taking the seat opposite her. Out of nowhere another domestic appeared, pouring Gabe some wine. He looked at the man with a frown. ‘We can manage. I’d prefer not to be interrupted.’
The man said something in Italian, smiled at Abby and then disappeared.
Abby’s frown was instinctive. ‘You don’t strike me as a man who would like having staff.’
He lifted a brow. ‘Forty thousand people work for me.’
‘I don’t mean in a professional sense,’ she said with a small shake of her head. ‘I mean household staff.’
‘You get used to it.’ He shrugged.
‘I don’t know if I ever could.’
‘You mean, if you ever will,’ he corrected.
She nodded slowly.
‘You must have had servants?’
‘God, no.’ She laughed, having no idea how beautiful she looked as the creamy midday sun bounced across her blonde hair, causing it to shimmer. ‘My father hated the idea of having people in our home. He’s very private.’
At the reference to Lionel Howard something between them shifted, a darkness descending on the table.
Gabe spoke first with a heavy sigh. ‘Tell me how it started.’
Abby lifted her shoulders. ‘How what started?’
‘You, coming to meet me. What did your father say to you?’
Abby’s tummy twisted. She couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘Is that why you wanted to have lunch with me?’
Gabe’s frown was infinitesimal, but she caught the tail end of it.
‘It’s natural you’d be curious,’ she rushed to add.
�
�I wasn’t. But seeing as you’ve mentioned him…’
She nodded. Hadn’t she decided that she needed to be honest with him, to help him understand why she’d done what she had? Of course he felt the same need to know.
‘I told you—’ she spoke slowly, every word considered ‘—my father was destroyed when your company launched.’ Her grimace was an acknowledgement of the fact that this was an awkward conversation to have. ‘I’d heard about you for years, you know.’
She felt Gabe stiffen without looking at him.
‘He came to blame you and…your foster brother…for every single business problem he had.’ She closed her eyes, finding it insufficient simply to look away from Gabe now and needing instead to block him out completely. Her slender throat shifted as she swallowed.
‘You are not saying anything I had not deduced for myself,’ he said. The words were offered with his usual degree of detachment but Abby felt them—she felt them right in the centre of her heart. ‘You are fortunate your father targeted me rather than Noah.’
‘Why?’
Gabe thought of his best friend and his frown deepened. ‘Because Noah is…’
She waited, her interest obvious.
‘Noah and I are very similar. But he has no interest in pretending to be civil. He would have chewed you up and spat you back out again if you’d tried your trick on him.’
‘It wasn’t a trick.’
He ignored her. ‘Noah would have seen through you too. He’s always been a better judge of character than me.’
She paled.
‘He would hate you, I think, for what you planned to do.’
Abby gripped the fork tightly, her brain hurting. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. He’s your best friend, right?’
‘He’s my…yes.’
‘Have you told him about us? About Raf?’
Gabe’s eyes held Abby’s. ‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘He’s…’ Gabe looked towards the window for a moment, his expression tight. ‘He’s got his own stuff going on.’ It was vague enough to create more questions than it answered, but Abby didn’t push him. Gabe had clammed up and she knew him well enough to know that he would only speak when he was ready to share.
‘My dad didn’t target you,’ she said softly, bringing them back to the topic.
Gabe spun back to face her, lancing her with his eyes.
‘He wanted information. He never meant to hurt you.’
‘He wanted to destroy my business. You don’t think that would have hurt me?’
‘He didn’t think about it like that,’ Abby insisted. ‘You were irrelevant. All he cares about is his own success. For years he was at the top of his game, and then you came along…’
‘I am hardly irrelevant, given that he sent you to spy on me.’
She brushed past his interruption impatiently. ‘But do you understand what I’m saying?’
‘I understand the excuses you’re offering.’ His eyes glittered with an emotion she didn’t understand and then, as though the words were being dragged from him, ‘I believe you were motivated by love for your father rather than hatred for me.’
‘Hatred?’ That jolted her eyes to his and she reached across the table, curving her palm over his. ‘It was never about hatred for you. Even before I met you I was fascinated by you, Gabe. Your…dynamism and success, your work ethic, your lifestyle.’ She blushed. ‘You were my polar opposite in every way. It didn’t take much convincing when my dad suggested I meet you…’
He swallowed, his throat bunching beneath her gaze. ‘And yet you still came with the intention of finding whatever information you could and taking it back to your father?’
She bit down on her lip, nodding slowly.
At his look of disapproval, she rushed to add, ‘But only at first. Gabe, fifteen minutes into knowing you and there was no way I was going to go through with it.’
She withdrew her hand, the intimacy feeling discordant suddenly. ‘I slept with you because I wanted to,’ she said with quiet insistence.
‘You wanted me? You wanted Calypso.’
‘No!’ She shook her head to emphatically refute him. ‘Gabe, you have to believe me. Us sleeping together, that was… Didn’t you feel it?’
‘Feel what, tempesta?’ he challenged stonily, every cell in his body closed to her, the definition of immovable.
Still, having come this far, Abby urged herself to be honest. ‘A connection,’ she said, her eyes landing on his. ‘I felt something for you the instant you spoke to me, the second we first touched, when you made me laugh… I wanted you to be my first lover,’ she promised. ‘Because of who you were to me, not to Dad, nor to the world.’
He was quiet, appraising her words from every angle.
‘You told me you simply wanted to rid yourself of your tiresome virginity,’ he pointed out.
Inwardly she winced, wishing she could take back that excuse. She’d said it to save some pride, but now she wanted to dispel that idea. ‘You don’t think I’d been smiled at by handsome men before?’ she asked. ‘You don’t think I’d had ample opportunities to “rid myself” of my virginity in the past?’
He stared at her long and hard, his cheeks darkening with a flush of emotion. ‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘It made little sense to me on that night; it still doesn’t.’
‘I had no interest in sex,’ she said simply. ‘I was too busy with ballet—my schedule was pretty intensive—and then, by the time I gave it up, when it came to intimacy I felt like a fish out of water. All my friends had been in several relationships, and the guys I met were obviously way more experienced. I was…embarrassed.’
‘You weren’t with me.’
‘Because I felt like I knew you,’ she said with urgency. Had he truly not felt that same sense of familiarity?
‘Abigail—’ he sighed heavily, dragging his fingertips through his hair ‘—I think you need to be careful here.’
‘Careful how?’ she prompted.
‘You speak like a classic romantic,’ he said, his smile bordering on mocking. ‘A connection. As though I was some fated Prince Charming riding into town to win your heart.’ He laughed, a harsh sound, but that same heart ratcheted up a gear, his description unknowingly hitting on how she had felt at the time. ‘We are going to get married, for our son. The last thing I want is for you to get hurt—even if a small part of me thinks you are simply reaping what you sowed a year ago.’
Pain scored Abby deep in her heart and her veins turned to ice as crisply cold as the snow outside. ‘I’ve tried to explain—’
‘Damn it! Abigail, listen to me.’ He softened his tone with obvious effort. ‘You will never be able to explain what you did. What you intended to do. I appreciate that you didn’t follow through with what your father wanted, but you came to me with one purpose—betrayal. Nothing that happened beyond that matters. Had you not fallen pregnant, if we didn’t share a son, we wouldn’t be sitting across a table having this conversation. Or any conversation. You understand that, don’t you?’
She sat frozen to the spot, her heart thumping inside her the only sign of life. His words were shredding her into tiny pieces and uncertainty lurched all around her. ‘How can you say that?’ she asked quietly, digging her fingernails into her palms. ‘After what we shared the other day?’
His smile was almost sympathetic. ‘For your own good, try to remember that sex and love are two very distinct sides of a coin.’
His words ran around her head like an angry tornado. She didn’t believe it was love, necessarily, but it was more than just great sex. When they were together she felt as if she could trust him with her life; she felt as if everything made sense. Didn’t he feel that too? Or did he always feel that?
‘I guess I wouldn’t know,’ she said after a moment, hoping she didn’t sound as confus
ed as she felt. ‘You, on the other hand, have plenty of experience.’
‘Yes.’ The word was a crisp agreement. He reached over and topped up Abby’s wine; she hadn’t even realised she’d been sipping it as they spoke. ‘Was he angry when you went home empty-handed?’
It took Abby a moment to realise that Gabe had returned to their original topic of conversation. ‘Yes.’ She didn’t feel like talking about her father though. ‘You were fostered in Australia?’ she asked, the question catching Gabe off-guard. His face shifted into a mask of displeasure but he covered it quickly enough.
‘Yes.’
‘But you were born here? In Italy?’
‘Yes.’
Abby frowned. ‘So how did you end up in Australia? I would have thought you would stay in your own country when you lost your mother…’
‘She had recently emigrated to Australia,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘It’s where she was from, and she still had family there. A cousin, at least. It made sense to go home.’
‘How did she die?’ The question sounded insensitive even to Abby’s ears. She blamed the wine and the fact she was still reeling from the ease with which he’d limited their relationship simply to sex…
‘A drug overdose,’ Gabe said, the words cold.
‘I’m sorry.’ She reached over, cupping her hand over his. ‘That must have been awful.’
‘Awful?’ He looked at her hand as though it were a foreign object, something unexpected and strange on the table. ‘Awful is one way to describe it.’
‘Were you close to her?’
Gabe’s eyes lanced Abby. ‘Aren’t all children close to their mothers?’
Abby nodded. ‘I guess.’ She was quiet as she contemplated her next question.
‘You can ask,’ he prompted, understanding that she was holding back.
‘Had she taken drugs for long?’
‘No.’ He reached for his wine and took a sip. The silence around them was another presence at the table, heavy and sad, all-encompassing.
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