“Yes?”
Someone really needs to teach him how to answer a phone properly.
“Hey boss,” a male voice says. “Just wanted to let you know everything with the property purchase has been handled. Antonio will drop off the keys closer to the possession date.”
“Thanks, Reid.”
Reid.
As in the same Reid Gabriel had mentioned before?
Gabriel clears his throat and shoots me a quick glance. “You’re on speaker by the way,” he says, “and Zalea’s with me.”
There’s a brief pause. “Well hello there, Zalea,” Reid says warmly, sounding amused. “I’ve heard great things about you. I’m sure Gabriel’s told you all about me.”
“Actually, no,” I say, curiously. “He only mentioned you’re the one arranging the high-end reservations.”
A theatrical gasp fills the car. “Gabriel, I amsomuch more than that,” he scolds. “I searched global surveillance footage tofind you, Zalea, because he was two seconds away from crashing out.”
“Alright, Reid. That’s enou?—”
“I booked his hotel,” Reid barrels on, “but that was after tracking down where you would be staying in Florence—per his request—and yes, I may have secured a reservation for you two along the way, but now he’s got me researching fertility clinic?—”
“Enough.” Gabriel’s firm voice cuts through the car. “You’ve signed numerous NDAs which you’re currently violating.”
“But it’s Zalea,” Reid says, softer now. “And you told me she knows everything.”
“Apparently not,” I say, folding my arms and turning toward Gabriel. “Why is Reid researching fertility clinics?”
When Gabriel doesn't answer, Reid lets out a low whistle. “Yiiikes,” he whispers. “I’ll see myself out of this conversation. Lovely meeting you, Zalea.”
The line disconnects and silence floods the car again, except this time it’s anything but comfortable. I stare at Gabriel until he glances at me from the corner of his eye.
“Well?” I prompt.
“Well what?” he says, gaze returning to the road.
“Why does someone who doesn’t want kids have his assistant researching fertility clinics?”
His grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles paling. “Because if you want children,” he says carefully, “ you should have the best clinic overseeing it.”
I tilt my head. “Fertility clinics don’t oversee pregnancies, Gabriel. They help you get pregnant.”
“Oh.” He pauses. “Okay.”
I study him, unsure whether that was genuine ignorance or neatly packaged deflection. Either way, I recognize the wall, and I know better than most what it feels like to be pushed when you’re not ready to talk.
So I let it go.
“Okay,” I say simply.
He glances at me again, brows drawn as though he expected me to press harder. But I don’t. I turn back toward the greenery rushing past us, letting the wind swallow the tension instead.
For now, I’ll drop it.
Sometimes giving someone space is the loudest kind of understanding there is.
TWENTY-ONE
