Page 34 of Captive Vows
Don’t. Just don’t even think about it.
The last time I allowed myself to be interested in a woman—to truly desire their company, and not just for sex—I’d lost her. I’d lost the last woman who’d genuinely captured my interest. My wife had given me this same drive to learn about her. And I’d lost her.
Missing Maria faded long ago. What I suffered the most from now was the loss of companionship.
Admiring a portrait I’d ordered to be painted of my late wife back when Emil was just a toddler, I sighed and tried to remember what she sounded like when she spoke. When she laughed. I focused on the artist’s image of her and strained to recall what she felt like. How small her hand was in mine.
Gabriella would never replace her.
She would never compare to the docile sweetness Maria gave me in her short life.
Stop.
I couldn’t let my thoughts go down this path.
Hanging my head, I shook it and sighed.
Gabriella was too caustic. Too spirited. She was just a challenge to entertain me until I’d get rid of her.
Right?
If that was the truth, I wouldn’t be energized to be near her. If she was nothing more than a thing to preoccupy me for a while, I wouldn’t be so hesitant to see her unhappy.
And if she was supposed to be a pastime, a temporary presence in my home, I really wouldn’t be rushing to find her.
Pausing outside her room, I lurked in the shadows and spied on her. Stalking her like this was becoming second nature. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stay away. I’d learned too quickly that if I nudged her door open an inch, she’d be too lost to the music playing from her ear buds to notice she had an audience.
So I’d watch.
I’d admire.
And I would inch that much closer to caving completely.
Would it be so bad to spoil her for just a bit before I’d get rid of her? Would it be so terrible to give her a taste of something good before I sent her to someone else? She wasn’t an ideal partner for me. Not in the long run. She was too young. She was too full of hopes and dreams. She wasn’t hard enough to withstand the violence of this life, as evident by her fear when Petyr crashed into her room.
She’d suffer away from me. I could treat her so well here. But she wasn’t destined to stay as mine forever.
That was all life was—suffering. Suffering with slight rewards along the way.
Oblivious to how I watched her, she carried on like the artist she was. Spinning, twisting, jumping, and bending. Her body was the paintbrush of motion through the canvas of the air. Despite her admittance of no proper training, she was a treat to watch. A gift to treasure.
I turned away and got my phone out. It was time to reward myself. And if ordering a private dance studio to be made for her was the reward of my choice, then that was how it would be.
Contacting Allen first, I requested him to find me the contractors to make this impulsive idea a reality. All the while, as I considered the project, I wondered if this was what it wouldtake to truly make Gabriella break. I had to imagine how she would react.
And I dreamed thatthiswould finally net me a smile from her.
A real one.
Regardless of how foolish it seemed to care.
12
GABRIELLA
Luka and I finished breakfast on a bad note.
“It’s semantics,” he growled.
