He nods. “It would be an honour if you would let me share them with the world.”
Emotion rushes through me and I launch out of my stool and rush over to him, wrapping him in a hug.
“Paolo, the honour is mine. This is amazing!”
He laughs and spins me around as I giggle, but a knock at the studio door ends the happy moment. Paolo sets me down and we both look to the doorway where Gabriel stands, carefully watching us.
Giovanna steps out from behind him, grinning.
“I found this one waiting downstairs,” she says, nudging him. “I thought he should see what Paolo’s been creating with you.”
Gabriel’s gaze moves from me and Paolo to the paintings, and instead of shying away from Paolo, I hold out my hand to Gabriel. He doesn’t hesitate to walk over and take it.
“These are beautiful, aren’t they?” I say softly. “Paolo is submitting them to Giovanna’s upcoming gallery exhibition.
Gabriel studies each piece carefully. “Are they for sale?” he asks Paolo, and it’s the first time he’s spoken to him without any animosity or jealousy, making me blink several times in surprise.
Paolo nods. “I was thinking of listing them at three-thousand Euros each, if Zalea is okay with it.”
Gabriel nods before reaching into his wallet. He counts out three-thousand Euros for each painting, handing the wad of money to Paolo.
“I’ll take them all.” My stomach drops as silence fills the room.
“T-thank you,” Paolo says, stunned. “But then I won’t have anything to display at the exhibition.”
“Display them,” Gabriel says, evenly. “But I want them delivered to our apartment after. No one is hanging paintings of my girl in their house.”
My cheeks burn as Giovanna looks over at me with a devilish grin, her lips curling as she winks at me.
“Of course,” she says smoothly. “Paolo will take excellent care of them.”
Paolo nods, still in shock. “I’ll personally deliver them after the show.”
Gabriel nods, and takes my hand. “Let’s go.”
I wave goodbye to Paolo—who’s still holding the stack of money like it’s not real—and to Giovanna, who’s still grinning my way.
When the elevator doors slide shut, the world narrows to just the two of us. Gabriel drops my hand, and backs me into the mirrored corner. His palm braces beside me, the other sliding to my waist as his mouth finds mine.
The kiss isn’t casual or playful, it’s hungry and desperate. Like he’s been holding himself together all day and the second the doors closed, whatever restraint he had snapped.
His mouth moves against mine with urgency, like he needs to feel me breathing, needs proof that I’m still here and that I chose him. That I didn’t change my mind in that studio surrounded by painted versions of myself and Paolo’s admiration.
I gasp softly when his hand tightens at my waist, and he swallows the sound, deepening the kiss until it feels possessive.
Mine, the kiss says. But it also saysPlease don’t leave me.
He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his breath uneven.
“I hated that,” he murmurs.
I blink. “Hated what?”
“Seeing you like that with him.” His jaw ticks. “Laughing and letting him spin you around.”
I frown. “He’s my friend, Gabriel,” I say quietly.
“I know.” His thumb drags along my hip, grounding himself. “And I trust you.”
