“You know what I love the most about this?” Gabe asks quietly, forcing me to lean in closer. “You’re so damn enthusiastic. It’s honestly killing me.”
“Come on. You had the same reaction when you traveled for the first time, didn’t you?”
He cocks his head, considering. “Not exactly. My family’s an old New York family. I grew up hearing stories about how our city’s the best city in the world. Paris is a dump compared to where I’m from.”
“You said you liked Moscow though.”
“That’s true. And I’m starting to like Paris too.”
“Why’s that?"
He looks at me, and I know the answer already. He doesn’t say it though; instead, he lifts his coffee and turns away, and I study his profile for a long beat, marveling at his straight jaw, at the stubble on his chin. How we’ve survived this far, how we’re still going, I don’t even know. It’s because of him. And it’s because of him that I got dragged into this, but that was inevitable anyway. As soon as my cousin heard I was the one in control of my father’s money, he would’ve come calling, and I have a feeling he wouldn’t have been as willing to strike a deal as Gabe’s been.
We finish eating and start walking again. This time, we take it slow. He tells me about the few times he’s been here, about the streets and their rhythms, about the other places he’s been. London, Amsterdam, Warsaw. “You have to be all over the place in this line of business.”
“When you’re a Dragon, will you travel?”
He nods toward the street. “Most likely all the time. Though my brother-in-law stays hidden away on his island fortress, so maybe not.”
“But you could?”
“If you want to travel, we’ll travel.”
“No, I mean, I wasn’t?—“
“Where do you want to go? What do you want to see? When this is all over, that’s what we’ll do.”
I laugh and lean against him, lacing my fingers through his. It feels easy and natural, and I don’t even think about it. “God, I don’t know. I think if you had asked me that a week ago, I would’ve said Paris, but now…” I trail off, trying to think. My world’s been so tiny, I don’t even know where I want to go. “What about Rome?”
His eyebrows raise. “Rome? Huh. Yeah. That’s a good idea.”
“Really?”
“I’ve never been.”
I elbow him and laugh. “Come on. You’re so well-traveled.”
“And Italian, but no, I’ve never had a reason.” He stops walking in front of a small junk shop, old guitars and broken radios piled in the front window. He tugs me against him and kisses me, biting down. “When I’m Dragon and you’re my queen, we’ll go to Rome. That’ll be our honeymoon.”
“Sort of too late for one of those, right?”
“Dragons can honeymoon whenever they want.”
“Must be nice.”
“It will be.”
We walk for a while longer, but soon he flags down the car and we climb back in. The driver seems to know where he’s going and I sit back to enjoy the trip, not thinking about anything but being where we are, soaking in the sights, experiencing a new city for the first time.
Right up until the car parks in front of a quiet city block lined by simple row houses. Gabe leans over and kisses my cheek. “I’ll be back. Stay here and don’t move.”
He climbs out, but before he can walk off, the driver takes out a bottle from the glove compartment and a thin white rag. Gabe accepts them through the window, casually whistling as he stuffs the rag into the bottle.
I watch, not sure what’s happening. My husband walks off, strolls right up to the front door of a house, and kicks it hard.
“What the?—“
“Sorry, miss, he’ll be finished shortly.” The driver smiles at me calmly in the rearview mirror as Gabe smashes the door in. I watch in horror as he lights the rag, orange flames whooshing up its length and licking wildly at the air. He walks inside, arm cocked back and throws it into the gloom of the building.
