Page 37 of The Bonventi Hitman
I can't let that happen, no matter what. For me, for Bill.
Agent Russell and Harris told me to get close to Gabriel if possible, so I just need to play the game. Unfortunately for me, there was never any training for when you're this deep undercover and feelings begin to mix—or, in my case, collide into you like a fucking rocket without any explanation or reasoning.
He's the very antithesis of me and my profession. Most women would be scared in his presence if they knew what I knew and saw what I saw, yet here I am, his scent making me wet.
I tense up because now really isn't the time to have a conversation with myself about Gabriel and my feelings for a mafia hitman as an FBI agent.
Who the hell can comprehend that anyhow?
I'd need days, weeks maybe, to unpack this, and I have about 45 more seconds until we're at the door of my hotel suite.
Fuck it.
I'll do what Bill always told me to do: don't overthink things—overthinking gets you killed.
Let's let tonight play out as it is, and I'll pick up the pieces in the morning and figure out what, if anything, it'll mean for the mission.
This man did save my life, after all.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open.
"After you," Gabriel says, gesturing me forward.
I walk slowly, unsure of the exact reason—there are too many to pick from.
When I reach the door, he comes up behind me, his body gently pressing against mine as he extends his left arm to swipe the card and unlock the door.
His body against mine makes my heart rate go through the roof. I feel something stirring in me that I've never felt before. I getnervous and take a step forward, pushing the door open. He stands there for a second and follows me inside.
I don't turn around when I hear the door shut, but alone with just him, I don't feel like I've returned to my prison. That feeling of dread and doom is gone. It's like my wings have returned, and the cage is broken.
I continue to stare forward out the window into the night sky. I know he's standing still, observing me, wondering what I'll do.
Without turning around, I ask, "Would you like a drink?" My voice sounds unsteady, highlighting my nerves from deep within.
Gabriel's silent, but I hear him walk forward, closing the distance between us.
He leans down and whispers in my ear, "Sure, why not."
I make an audible gasp and bite my lip to silence myself. I watch as he walks over to the fully stocked bar and thumbs over the bottles, looking for something to serve us.
I clear my throat. "I'll take the wine, please."
He lifts it up and reads the label. I see a flash of anger cross his face.
"Pick something else."
I'm confused by his reply.
"Okay," I say hesitantly, "Can you surprise me with something then?"
He nods.
I take a seat on the couch, not trusting my legs to keep me upright. My nerves are becoming too overwhelming. I rack my mind, thinking why he wouldn't allow me to have the wine. And then it hits me.
It's Luca's favorite brand.
I watch as he finishes our drinks and brings them around the bar. His looks to be a sophisticated pour of whiskey, and mine a martini with two olives.
