Page 50 of Vicious Temptation

“I—I had nightmares. I was out of my pills, and he was woken up by me crying. He wanted to know what was wrong. I had to tell him at least some of it.” I swallow hard, tugging my sleeves down over my hands, wrapping my arms around my waist. I want to shrink down into myself, away from my father, away from the memory of all of this. Just when I thought it could get better, something happens to make it all feel so much worse.

My father might not care very much, but he’s at least perceptive. He sees what I’m doing, and he shakes his head, disgust plain on his face. “You’re weak,” he says, his voice cutting. “I’ve seen men endure far worse than what they did to you, and come out stronger for it. Do you know what Gabriel called it today, what he heard about what happened to you? Torture.” He nearly spits out the word. “Neither you nor Gabriel know anything about torture.”

“And you do?” Again, the words come out before I can stop them, before I can think better of them. But I know my father has never endured anything like that. He’s a soft man, not in emotion, but in constitution. He wouldn’t be able to endure the sort of thing he’s talking about, those things that are worse than what happened to me. Nor is he able to understand that I would have rather endured physical pain, over what those men did to me.

“You’ve let it get the better of you,” he spits. “You’ve used it as a crutch. But you enjoy the dramatics, don’t you? Being a victim? You were just a consolation prize for the Bratva, but now you’re special. Or at least you think you are—but all you’ve made yourself is someone almost useless to me. It took me all those months to dig up someone willing to marry you in your state, and you threw it away to watch Esposito’s brats?—”

“I’m glad to know how you really feel, Masseo.”

Gabriel’s voice cuts through the room like a knife, and I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest. This time isn’t my fault, and my father isn’t a stranger, but every part of my body screams to flee, that reaction that I hate and I can’t control every time there’s conflict now rearing up. Gabriel walks into the room, a sleek, glossy folder in his hand, and he sets it down on the couch.

“You should go,” he tells my father coldly, addressing him, and only him. “You won’t speak to Bella that way in my house.”

My father isn’t cowed, not in the slightest. In another man, it would be impressive, but next to Gabriel’s cool, confident stature, it only shows my father for what he is—a man posturing in front of someone he believes to be beneath him, but who is anything but. “She’s my daughter,” he bites out, and Gabriel nods.

“She is. And in your house, you can speak to her however you like. But you’re in mine, and I won’t stand for it. Go, Masseo. Before I start to rethink my business portfolio. And,” he adds, almost as an afterthought, “don’t come to my house without an invitation again.”

My father’s jaw tightens, anger plain on his features, but there’s nothing he can do. He’s on Gabriel’s turf, in his house, and Gabriel has the right of it.

“We’ll talk later, Bella,” he says stiffly. And then he turns sharply, and leaves.

All of the air leaves my lungs as I sink onto the couch, my heart still beating hard. “Thank you,” I say softly, looking up at Gabriel.

“There’s no need for thanks.” Gabriel sits down next to me, far enough away that there’s no chance of him accidentally touching me, but still close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off of him. My skin prickles again, my breath coming up short, and I lick my lips nervously, not fully understanding what I’m feeling. It’s too confusing, especially on the heels of everything else.

“I went out to take care of some things,” Gabriel continues, and he reaches for the glossy folder, opening it. There’s a stack of paperwork inside, and an envelope. He hands me the envelope, and I open it, startled to see two new, smooth plastic cards inside.

“A debit card, and a credit card,” he explains. “In your name.”

“What?” None of it registers at first. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says patiently, “that I went to the bank, and I opened accounts for you.” He pushes the folder into my lap. “It took a bit of doing, handling it all without you present, but fortunately, my position in life affords me a bit of freedom to utilize my connections in ways that let me skirt around some rules. In this case, I skirted them for you, because I knew your father would never agree to help me in this. And I wanted to surprise you.”

I stare at the paperwork. I can’t quite seem to absorb what’s in front of me. I see my name, and signatures, and numbers. Five thousand dollars, in a checking account. Two thousand in savings. A debit card and a credit card, sitting in front of me, with my full name on them. Elizabeth Isabelle D’Amelio.

“You—” I can’t finish the sentence. It seems unreal. Just a few days ago, Clara and I were talking about this possibility, and it felt so far off. So impossible. Just a dream, that I could convince Gabriel to help me gain my freedom. And yet, here it all is, without my even having to ask.

There aren’t any words I can think of for the feeling welling up in my chest, so I just stare at him, shocked into silence.

“Only your name is on all of it,” Gabriel continues. “Not your father’s, or mine, or anyone else’s. You’ll be paid from here on out, and it will be deposited into your account. Your father won’t get any more money from me, for your hard work. I was already putting this all into motion, but—” His mouth firms, an angry look crossing his face for a brief moment. “After that, I’m even less inclined to let your father have any more profit from me. At least when it comes to you.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper. “Thank you. I-I?—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Gabriel says gently. “You’re an adult woman, Bella. You deserve your own independence, and I want to see that you have it. Being chained to your father the way you are is reprehensible. It’s archaic. And I wanted to put a stop to it.”

“Do you realize—” I press a hand to my mouth, my thoughts running so far ahead that I have to reel them back in. “Gabriel?—”

“Yes, I do.” He turns to face me more fully, a serious look on his face, but I can see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and I realize that this is, in a way, a victory for him, too. He has strong feelings about the conventions of the world we live in, and in this instance, he’s managed to help me overcome them. Or, at the very least, begin to. “You should have a chance at your own life, Bella. To determine what it is that you want.”

“Why?” The question comes out before I can stop it. “Why me?”

Gabriel raises one shoulder in a half-shrug. “You ran into me that day in the hallway.”

I was lucky. It hits me then, and I realize that, for the first time, I’ve been lucky. Lucky to have come out of the office that day as Gabriel was going to see my father, lucky that it was him that I ran into. For once, fate seems to be on my side.

I have a chance to make things different for myself, and I make up my mind then and there that I’m going to do my best to take it. Standing up to my father will be frightening, and difficult, but I don’t want to lose this chance. Not when there’s even the slightest possibility that I might be able to get my freedom.

“One more thing,” Gabriel adds, and I look back at him, startled.

---