His Mafia Queen

Not a Prisoner

Riley

Feeling physically better than I have in days, I gather my phone and handbag and make my way downstairs.

My plan is to sneak out of the house and not tell Gabriel where I'm going. It's entirely possible that I might attend the party for an hour or two and return home without him even knowing I was gone. His meeting could last hours, if his past business sessions are any indication.

I'll admit that this could be a stupid plan. It has the possibility of backfiring. It could also lead to a huge fight between me and Gabriel. But considering he didn't tell me about his conversation with Catherine, along with his frosty rejection of my affection, I have zero fucks to give right now.

I practically have cabin fever after being in the hospital for days, and the last thing I want is more sleep. Right now I need to be around people to take my mind off everything that's happened in the past week.

I'm not a prisoner here.

As I walk down the grand staircase, I try to make as little noise as possible. Even though I'm pissed at Gabriel, I don't want a confrontation. But when I'm halfway down the stairs, I hear footsteps. Familiar footsteps.

It's not Gabriel, but Andre. And he's opening the front door.

"Welcome, welcome," he's saying to a group of men, who file into the foyer.

I freeze. What should I do? Everyone on the first floor can see me on the stairs. Crap. Okay, I can do this. I'll walk down, say hello, and slip out the front door. Pasting on a giant smile, I step down.

Of course, right when I get to the bottom step, Gabriel comes into view. His eyes are on the group of men, who are all older, wearing dark suits, with grim faces. All of them look like extras in an episode of The Sopranos.

I freeze again, wondering if I should lie and say I'm going into the kitchen for a snack. That probably won't fly, given what I'm wearing and the fact that I'm holding my purse on one arm and my keys in my hand.

Gabriel's gaze lands on me, his dark eyes boring into my soul. I keep smiling like a fool, because I know I must own what I'm about to do.

With a deep breath, I swish into the foyer and approach Gabriel, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. "Hi baby. I'll be back in a few hours. I need to grab a few things at the store and visit Catherine." I use my most syrupy voice.

It occurs to me that her sunglasses are still outside, but I can't double back for them now. That would only give Gabriel the opportunity to keep me here.

I make a big show of wiping my lip gloss off his cheek, then sashay toward the front door, which is still open, all while making sure to smile at the group of men. They all look at me with amused expressions.

"Can't stop a woman from going shopping," one of the men says.

"You got that right, mister," I respond saucily, tossing my blonde hair over my shoulder for emphasis.

The last thing I see is Gabriel's glowering face, and when I close the door behind me, I make a break for my car, which is thankfully in the driveway and not the garage. I start the engine and pull out a little too fast.

For a minute I think Gabriel's going to close the gate that separates the driveway from the street. He wouldn't, would he? I'm relieved when I soar through without any problems.

It only takes me about fifteen minutes to get to Catherine's gallery. There aren't any parking spaces in the lot, but I snag a spot on the street.

Inside, the place is packed, filled with people drinking wine and oohing and ahhing over Catherine's large, gothic-tinged paintings. There's one I haven't seen, and I stop to study the work.