I shrugged. “A wealthy widow for a daughter, who could move back home.”
Gabriella shuddered. “I’m never going back there.”
I stilled.
At the same time, she seemed to catch herself, opening and closing her mouth, horror washing over her face.
My voice dropped to a scary volume. “And why’s that, little bird?”
She was a quick thinker, I’d give her that.
“Too many sisters.” She laughed. It was a hollow, broken sound. “They steal my clothes, use all the hot water, and there’s never enough space to do my hair in the mirror.”
That stank of bull shite. Gabriella wore her hair down or in a simple ponytail, like right now. Her face had minimal paint, which meant she wasn’t fussy enough to spend hours in front of the mirror.
There’s something else.
I was missing something. Whatever it was, the puzzle piece was huge.
“Come on, I’ll take you home.” I rose and held out my hand.
Gabriella looked at it, then lifted her gaze to mine. My heart did a clumsy, tiny flip.
“Are you sticking around?” she asked.
“You want me to?” I held my breath.
She shrugged. “It just seems that they could use you here. I’m just going to be sitting and reading all afternoon.”
The exhale was laced with pain. Little shards cut my throat. “Then I’ll be home for supper.”
She didn’t brighten. She didn’t fucking smile.
“Okay, I’ll fix us something.” She pushed to her feet, avoiding my touch.
I had to dig my blunt nails into my palm to keep from punching the wall as we exited the portable.
In less than a month, Gabriella had turned my house into a home. Her hands served by cooking meals. She made the rooms feel cozy. There was always something to munch on. Tonight, she’d even asked if I had taken lunch to work. When I said no, she seemed sad. I pressed the issue, and she admitted she would have made me a lunch box.
That was now the plan.
My lunch waited for me in the fridge.
More than that, she gave me her body. The little villain was hungry for me, eagerly taking my cock however I gave it to her.
But she wasn’t mine. Not in her mind. It didn’t matter how many times I said it. If it was while I washed the dishes, if it was while I pounded into her from behind.
Gabriella was keeping secrets.
She thought that she could bewitch me. That I would lower my guard. But I knew better. While she offered me her body, shewouldn’t trust me with her mind. I wanted that. Fuckingcravedit. More than my next breath.
Turning on the light in the library, I sat on the sofa. Before I opened the journal, I leaned over. A deep gulp of air filled my lungs. I swore I could smell her on the pillow. Maybe I was daft.
Or maybe the scent of peaches lingered.
There was a new journal entry. They were much better than the bleeding garbage I’d scoured before we were married. Gabriella poured herself into the pages. She used prompts she found on the internet, but she expanded on them in a way that only she could.
Today, she’d recounted the attack.
