We get the first rental car available, and nearly thirty minutes later, we arrive at a gate where Gabriel scans a card that opens the gate.
“Gabriel, where are we?” I ask, eyes wide as I take in the surroundings.
He smiles. “Welcome to my family’s compound, Bumper. Don’t worry, you won’t have to see my overbearing family any more than you feel comfortable. We’re staying at my house.”
We drive past several large homes and gardens before pulling up to one in particular—massive, sprawling, and impossibly beautiful. Its everything I could have imagined and more. Right in the heart of Lake Como.
“Gabriel, you never told me you are rich.”
He chuckles loudly, and I jump, startled by the sound. “Mills, I am hardly rich. My family. They own one of the biggest vineyards in Lake Como. They are the ones who are rich.”
I blink at him in awe. “Well, this is a real treat.”
As we step out of the car, I breathe in the warm Italian air and feel something shift inside me.
Maybe this trip isn’t going to be about fear. Maybe it’s going to be about falling—into a new place, into this new chapter, maybe even… into something more with Gabriel.
A Towel and a Trembling Heart
MILLIE
We’ve beenin Italy for three days now, and it’s without a doubt the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. The family estate sits tucked into a hillside overlooking Lake Como, its shimmering waters below and misty mountains rising into a sky so blue it hardly seems real. Every inch of this place is like something you’d see on a Pinterest board, and it still doesn’t feel real.
There’s no way I’m here—no way I’m in the same town where George Clooney owns a house, where the sun sets in pinks and oranges over endless waters. It’s a place that lives in postcards and daydreams. Never somewhere you imagine actually standing.
Each morning, the estate wakes slowly, wrapped in a gentle hush broken only by the distant calls of swallows darting above the olive groves and the soft rustle of leaves stirred by the light breeze. The air tastes faintly of citrus and freshly cut grass, a mix of scents that somehow makes the mornings feel like a fresh start, no matter what’s lingering in my mind.
But as breathtaking as the view from the family compound is, I’ve hardly seen much of Gabriel. He’s been catching up with family, while I’ve been doing everything I can to explore this city.
And a little bit of avoidance, too.
Since that kiss in his kitchen and the near-disaster on theplane, I haven’t been able to face him—not like this. Not with the strange tension hanging between us. Not when I can still feel the heat of his body against mine, his breath in my ear, and his gaze lingering a moment too long.
That kiss felt like a crack in the wall I’d been carefully building around my heart. It was sweet and electric, but also terrifying. It’s one of those moments that teases a future, even if it never comes. And now, with every glance in his direction, my chest tightens like I’m carrying a secret too heavy to share.
I have spent my days walking along the cobbled streets of Bellagio, exploring the charming village that’s built between lush mountains. It’s quaint, alive with the smile of fresh basil, wood-fired pizza, and garlic.
Everywhere you look, there’s a trattoria offering the most mouthwatering traditional Italian dishes and small shops selling everything from hand-painted ceramics to delicate jewelry.
I buy trinkets for my family and friends back home and even track down Villa Oleandra, the infamous George Clooney residence. I’d heard stories, of course, but seeing it in person was surreal. It’s a monument of old-world luxury, and I can’t help but wonder how Gabriel fits into this world.
At night, I sit on the terrace outside my room, a glass of local red wine warming my hands, and watch the stars blink awake above the lake. The air is cooler now, carrying the scent of jasmine and pine, and I think about how this place is a dream—and maybe, somehow, I’m part of it. But the thought of Gabriel brings a flutter of nerves, and I quickly push it aside.
On the fourth morning, I wake up early, determined to make the most of the day. The kitchen is quiet, and there’s a sense of peace hanging in the air as I grind the fresh coffee beans that appeared in the kitchen the other day—Italian beans, of course. I smile to myself as I make a second cup.
I know Gabriel must have a hand in getting them here. He’s thoughtful in that way.
I knock on his door before opening it. “Gabriel, I made you a cup of coffee. Can I come in?”
“Come in, Bumper!” he calls out, and I walk in with the two steaming mugs in hand.
His room is as grand as everything else here—a massive four-poster bed takes center stage, draped with sheer curtains. Sunlight streams through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. On the far side of the room, Aura is lying in her crib, her tiny eyes wide as she watches her mobile spin slowly above her.
I set the cups of coffee down on the table. My heart flutters at the sight of the baby I’ve grown to love as I make my way to her crib. “Hey there, sweets. Are you enjoying being here as much as I am?” I lean in, brushing a lock of hair from her tiny face. “I know you’re just a baby, but I like to think you can feel the love of everyone here.”
Before I can say more, the bathroom door opens, and I freeze. Gabriel steps out, wearing nothing but a towel, his broad shoulders gleaming with water droplets, the sunlight casting a golden glow over his bare chest.
Holy mother.
