He frowns slightly, turns back to his computer, and clicks something. A moment later the printer hums behind him and he tears off the paper before sliding it toward me.
It’s an invoice for my room charge, and it says it’s been paid in full. My eyes drop to the billing details, and I’m not at all surprised to see Gabriel’s name and card listed on file.
Of course he took care of it.
My throat tightens, tears threatening again, but a car horn sounds outside and jolts me back to the present. I thank the man quickly and hurry out, dragging my suitcase behind me.
Paolo is waiting in his small Fiat, but he jumps out to help load my suitcase into the trunk before opening the passenger door for me. I give him the address once he’s inside, and he plugs it into the GPS without question.
We arrive at the apartment in under twenty minutes, and Gabriel’s red convertible is parked exactly where it was the day we viewed the apartment.
“He’s here,” I whisper, already reaching for the door before Paolo has even shifted into park.
He scrambles out after me, grabbing my suitcase as we rush inside. The elevator ride to the thirteenth floor feels endless, and when the doors open, we’re face-to-face with my new apartment door.
My hands shake as I pull the key from the envelope and slide it into the lock, hearing it click as I turn it. I look at Paolo who looks just as tense as I feel, and with a deep breath, I push the door open and find Gabriel sitting at the kitchen island.
My heart ricochets against my ribs.
“Gabriel?” I say softly, stepping inside.
He lifts his head, and one look at his face tells me he’s completely wasted.
“Mio Dio,”?* Paolo mutters behind me.
“You came,” Gabriel slurs, eyes barely open as a crooked smile spreads across his face. “I missed you.”
In the twenty-one years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him drunk. Not once. His hair sticks up in every direction like he’s been dragging his hands through it for hours.
“Gabriel, what happened?” I ask, moving closer.
“Lea, wait,” Paolo warns, gripping my forearm. “He might not be safe right now.”
“Get your fucking hands off her,” Gabriel snaps, shoving himself upright and stumbling toward us. “Why are you even here, you pop star-looking ass? This is our home. You thinkbecause I left for a few weeks you can just slide in and take my place?”
Paolo releases me immediately as Gabriel closes the distance.
I step in front of him, pressing my palms against his chest to stop him from lunging any farther. He reeks of stale alcohol and the suspicious smell of vomit, making my stomach twist.
“She’s mine,” Gabriel growls, pointing at the door. “Now get out.”
Paolo doesn’t react to Gabriel’s demand as he looks at me instead. “What do you want me to do? I can stay and make sure he doesn’t hurt you, or I can leave.”
“Hurt her?” Gabriel bellows, offended.
“Shh,” I murmur to Gabriel before glancing back at Paolo. “Thank you for bringing me. Let’s reschedule the painting session for tomorrow afternoon. I think I should stay and take care of him.”
Disappointment flashes across Paolo’s face, but he nods as he backs out of the apartment. “Call me if you need anything,” he says before stepping into the elevator.
The doors slide shut and silence settles over the apartment. Gabriel stares at the doorway like Paolo might reappear, but when his eyes finally meet mine, something inside him breaks.
“I’m really sorry,” he slurs, swaying slightly.
“No,” I say gently. “You’re really drunk.”
I turn him toward the bedroom, guiding him carefully. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He stops in the bathroom doorway, gripping the frame for balance.
