Page 24 of Culmination
Damn.
I’ve missed her.
Now that she’s within arms distance, in such close proximity, I can barely stand the idea of not touching her. But I can’t. Not yet.
Gabriella is still my skittish little lamb, and one false move will send her fleeing. I must reel her in, regain her trust. Her love.
I swallow my lust and continue the matter at hand. As soon as she realizes we’re cut from the same cloth, she’ll come back to me. After all, it was I who loved her first. Who will love her always.
“Don’t you see, darling? It’s the perfect ruse.”
She appears to mull it over. Confusion washes over me when she squares her shoulders. “This is not about Rafe. This is about you and me.”
Before I can speak, Gabriella clears her throat. My eyes meet hers as she sets her chin.
“I have something to get off my chest,” I tell her.
“As I said, this is not about him. It’s about you and what you did to me. You deceived me, Adrian. I gave you my heart blindly, and you betrayed my trust.”
As her voice falters, my heart splinter. At least that’s what it feels like.
She truly has no idea. That’s apparent now, and if I could go back in time, I would have explained everything to her long ago.
I take a deep breath, hoping to strike a nerve. “That may be true, but can’t you say the same of him? Is he really that much different from me?”
At first, anger flashes over her features, but then she calms, appearing to contemplate my question. “Rafe may have kept things from me, but he had his reasons. And more than that, he was never cruel to me. Never unkind. The way he treated me was leaps and bounds better than you did.”
“Circumstance,” I explain. “He was there to watch me. And what better way to ensure my focus is on my father’s efforts than to seduce you out from under me.”
Vibrant coffee-colored eyes widen briefly. I pray I have my in. But my hopes are dashed when she arches one single eyebrow, her mouth compressed into a single line. She’s skeptical. But she’s not arguing.
Yet.
“You forget, Adrian, that I planned on leaving you before I ever even met Rafe.”
I want to scoff and wave her off. She might have said the words that she was leaving me. We both know, however, that if Rafe Matthews hadn’t come along and inserted himself where he didn’t belong, Gabriella would be mine. My father would be none the wiser.
Most importantly, Gabriella would be safe.
So, while it’s on the tip of my tongue to point out exactly whose fault it is that she’s in this predicament, I hold myself back. If she believes she loves this man, the last thing I need to do is send her running back into his arms.
That is why it’s imperative I remind her of what we had. Of how I loved her. How she loved me. I realize, now, I must switch tactics.
As I contemplate how to best move forward, I rub my jaw, my fingers catching on stubble. Gabriella’s watching me, her head tilted sideways, her soft, brown eyes now relaxed instead of skeptical. Her curious expression once again gives me hope, and I must capitalize on her vulnerability before it’s too late.
“Before I even met you, you fascinated me. It wasn’t long before watching you was no longer enough. I had to meet you. And when I met you, I had to have you. When you became mine, there was no way I could ever let you go. How could I ever want another woman when you were all I could see?”
I take a deep breath and gaze into her eyes, imploring her to trust me. To believe me. To promise me I haven’t lost the most essential being in my life. “I am many things, but I am not a liar. I suppose I’ve failed at using my words with you lately and that is my failing. You are my one and only, Gabriella. You always have been, and if you’ll have me back, you always will be.”
She remains silent, and I take her non-refusal as a victory. Now, I just need to explain everything.
“Adrian, how can I believe anything you say?”
At that, I grimace. “The first thing you need to know is that, while I might have done bad things, that doesn’t mean I’m a bad man. Not entirely.”
I hope she can see the desperation in my expression. Ineedher to believe me. I have to make her understand.
Her expression sours. “What about the blood?” she asks so quietly that I barely hear her words. “There was blood on your shirt the last night you came home.”
