So I do—because nothing satisfies me more than proving Gabriel wrong.
Unfortunately…he isn’t.
My eyes flutter closed on the first bite, and I sigh softly before I can stop myself. When I look up again, Gabriel is watching me with a dark gaze.
“I don’t know why that turned me on so much,” he mutters, reaching for the first glass of wine as if he needs the distraction.
I hide my smile and lift my own glass, joining him. By the third tasting, I notice him studying me instead of the wine. He’s tracking my reactions, memorizing which ones are my favourite, and when we finish our unofficial sampling, he calls the waiter back.
“I’d like to order twelve cases of the Rosso and twelve cases of the Classico Riserva.”
It doesn’t escape me that those were my two favourites.
The waiter blinks, stunned, then excuses himself to fetch a manager.
“Gabriel,” I hiss, eyes wide, “they’re going to think we’re alcoholics.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “I’ll tell them it’s for our wedding.”
That shuts me up.
I sink back into my chair, watching him cut into his food, the casualness of his expression at odds with the way my thoughts spiral. Gabriel surprised me last night when he brought up the marriage pact. I’d nearly forgotten about it—a childish agreement, something I assumed had faded with time.
But he hasn’t forgotten. Instead, he’s been holding onto it, and I don’t know whether to feel guilty for letting it slip from my mind, or flattered that he never did.
By the time we leave Antinori, I’m pleasantly tipsy and in an amazing mood. Gabriel only took a sip from each glass since he’s driving, while I finished all five with enthusiasm.
Just as we settle into the car, his phone rings. “I’m hoping you have good news for me, Antonio,” he answers.
His smile slowly spreads across his face, and I can’t help smiling back. He’s got the most contagious smile I’ve ever seen, and every time it’s directed at me, something inside me relaxes, and I’m filled with a joy that feels way too big for something as simple as a smile.
It isn’t fair that I’m so hardwired to everything that has to do with Gabriel when we would never work. Sometimes I worry I’ll never feel this way about anyone else—like he’s ruined me of the possibility—as if he’s the person I was meant to find and lose all at once.
“Sounds great,” he says, waggling his brows with playful excitement. “Text me the first address and we’ll meet you there.”
I tilt my head. “Time to resume house hunting?”
He grins wider and nods. “Let’s get to it.”
The first apartmentAntonio shows us is immaculate, but it has no personality. Everything is glossy white, and polished chrome. The surfaces are so reflective, it’s like standing inside a hospital wing and pretending it’s a home.
The second apartment swings too far in the other direction. Grey marble floors stretching beneath black walls that swallow the light whole. The place is dramatic, and after five minutes inside I feel my life force being quietly siphoned away.
“Third one’s the charm,” Gabriel says as we step out of his car in front of the next building.
“What if it’s not?” I ask, picking at a loose thread on my sleeve.
He pulls me into a hug before I can spiral further, his chin settling on top of my head. “Then we keep looking. We don’t have to findthehome for us on the first day, Zalea.”
I nod against him, breathing in his musky cologne before we separate and join Antonio at the entrance.
“This neighbourhood is called Santa Croce,” Antonio explains as he leads us inside. “Perfect if you enjoy markets and lively nightlife. Some of the best traditional and contemporary restaurants are here as well.”
We ride the elevator to the thirteenth—and highest—floor. Antonio unlocks the door, steps aside, and lets us enter first.
The breath leaves my lungs the second I cross the threshold.
Warm oak floors stretch beneath my feet, glowing softly in the afternoon light that pours in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Cream-toned walls frame the space without crowding it, and subtle gold fixtures add warmth. It feels inviting in a way the other two apartments could never be.
