His Mafia Queen

Need and Love

RILEY

I'm at home now, out of my party clothes and into my soft, welcoming pajamas. I use the word "home" loosely, since this place has never felt like it; even in my shitty apartment I felt more at home than this soulless, modernist condo.

I have to admit that it's easy, though. Everything is luxurious and simple-to-use, as if Gabriel hand-selected things he knew I'd enjoy. Who knows? Perhaps he did. That thought slays me, because it means that somewhere inside him, he cares for me. Wants my comfort.

He's just unwilling — or unable — to take our relationship any further.

For example, this expensive, name-brand hot cocoa maker I'm using. Who knows how much it cost, but it makes the perfect cup of piping hot chocolate. Gabriel knows I love cocoa, and here it is, in my kitchen.

Nothing is ever a coincidence with Gabriel. Not the cocoa maker, and not the way he walked away from me tonight.

Sighing, I take my mug into the living room, careful not to spill on the polished concrete floor. Probably I should drown myself in a bottle of wine, but I don't have any and can't imagine going out to buy one at this hour.

Piss poor planning, my father would say.

It's nearly eleven, and despair is clawing at me from the inside. Seeing Gabriel, staring into his eyes, touching him...

It sapped every ounce of energy I had. And I didn't have much to begin with.

Why did he walk away? Why did he leave me there alone? Why couldn't I find him when I went back inside and humiliated myself in front of all those people? I saw the eyes on me, people who knew I'd been with him, people who knew I showed up with Beckett.

They all wondered: how could she do that to a man like Gabriel Greco?

Or maybe they know he dumped me and think I deserve everything that's coming to me, and worse.

I sip my cocoa, but the delicious sweetness tastes bitter to my tongue. My mind spirals to dark places.

And then there's Beckett...

Poor, sweet Beckett. I wish he'd never seen me with Gabriel. I wish I'd never spent time with Beckett. I wish, I wish, I wish.

Wishes are for fools.

I reach for the TV remote but then toss it on the sofa cushion next to me. I don't have the energy to push the button, nor the desire to watch anything. All I can muster is sitting here in the semidarkness, drinking my liquid sugar.

Tears haven't come yet, but I'm certain they will soon. How have I fucked up my life so badly here in Florida? It's all my fault for getting entangled with Gabriel.

This is all my doing.

As I'm thinking about whether I should quit my job and return to Boston with my tail between my legs and beg to move back in with my parents, a knock on the door startles me from my brooding.

I freeze, mug halfway to my lips. Who could that be at this hour? Fear swirls in my gut. Is it Beckett? That's the most obvious answer, since he lives here. It would be just like him to show up at my door to have an adult conversation. He's so well-adjusted and kind. He doesn't deserve me.

I set down the cocoa and tiptoe to the door. Of course, I'm also wary that it could be

one of Gabriel's enemies, here to send a message. Then again, he's got bodyguards here in this building, specifically for me.

Unless he cancelled them out of sheer rage and spite, in which case I'm a sitting duck. Would he do that?

My heart thrashing in my chest, I slowly lean into the peephole. I gasp.