His Mafia Queen

Moving On

TWO WEEKS LATER...

RILEY

"Is that straight?" Cath adjusts a large canvas painting on the wall.

I step back and shut one eye, tilting my head. "I think so, but my sense of depth perception is shit and that's why I got a C- in art."

She looks over her shoulder. "How does anyone get a C- in art?"

I shrug and grin. "Well, let's just say my abstract interpretations were so avant-garde that the art teacher thought I was painting with my toes."

Chortling, she carefully steps down the small ladder and comes to stand next to me. We stare at the canvas together. It's one of her paintings, but obviously not of Gabriel. It's an abstract work that makes me think of diving into the blue ocean.

"That's perfect!" she chirps, then reaches for her wine glass.

"It's gorgeous. I hope you sell a lot of them. And if you need this one back to sell, come over any time."

Cath waves her hand dismissively. "Shut up. It's yours. You need something impressive in this beautiful new condo. This living room is too big and white. It's like an operating room without color. This really makes the place pop. Plus, I wanted to do something nice for you since you've had a bitch of a month."

"Thanks." For the millionth time, tears well in my eyes. It's been like that lately, ever since Gabriel and I stopped seeing each other.

Cath has been an unexpected bright spot. I assumed she'd ghost me because of her ties with him, but she'd stuck by me as a friend, even telling me that she had informed him that he'd made a shitty decision.

I wouldn't let her tell me how he responded.

She'd encouraged me to take him up on his offer of a condo, however. At first, I'd resisted, saying I wanted nothing to do with him. But she reminded me that I could be a target for the Russians — and she said that I deserved a beautiful place to live. Money was nothing to Gabriel, she insisted, and the cost of this one-bedroom downtown condo in a building that he owned was likely some sort of tax write-off anyway.

So I sucked up my pride and contacted Andre, figuring that I could save money for six months and then get the hell out of Florida.

Of course, a little, secret part of me also accepted this offer because it was my final gossamer thread linking me to Gabriel. Ridiculous, I know.

Andre was kind though the entire process, arranging everything to perfection. A condo was quickly selected on the twentieth floor of a new building downtown. Andre ordered new furniture and movers for the rest of my paltry belongings, and even had five new locks installed for the door. A giant vase filled with pink flowers was waiting for me on the marble countertop.

Of course, Gabriel hasn't said a word to me during the entire move — Andre had arranged it all. I haven't talked to Gabriel since that Monday night when I slapped him on the face and stormed out of his house.

There is no coming back from that night, not for him or for me. I need to move forward, and part of that involves embracing this new life downtown. Although part of me wants to just curl up in my bed (the one piece of furniture I'd brought from my old apartment, because I didn't want the reminder that Gabriel had purchased a bed for me every time I went to sleep).

"Riley? Hey? You there?" Cath nudges me with her shoulder, ripping me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah, sorry. Zoned out for a minute."

She slings her arm around my shoulders. "You're going to be happy here. I can feel it."

"You think?" Part of me felt terrible about accepting such a large gift from Gabriel. But I also needed to be sensible about safety. My old apartment had no concierge or security, unlike this gleaming new building.