Her brows met with concern as she returned to me and held my arm. “Gabi, are you okay?”
I just stared at her, another set of hands finding mine. They were familiar by now. The only male hands after Jack’s that took the liberty of holding mine without permission and yet found a way to calm my bundle of wound up nerves. The hands of the beautiful stranger I was fake dating to please insensitive people like Alberta and Fletcher. People who didn’t understand the true meaning of loss.
“Hey, look at me,” Fabio said. “Gabriella?”
“Gabi, I’m so sorry,” Alberta apologized. “That was a joke.”
That wasn’t funny. That wasn’t funny at all.
Fabio started his finger massage. “Maybe we should go sit down.”
“Your table is next to ours. Let me show you,” she told him.
“Thanks, but I’ll take it from here.” He gently took my hand and ushered us away, looking for my name on the tables. When he found it, he pulled a chair and helped me sit. Then he took his seat next to me, holding both my hands again. “Breathe.”
I inhaled and then let my breath out as slowly as I could.
“Better?”
With a nod, I breathed out again, noticing the guests who were to be seated at our table hadn’t arrived yet, and we were alone. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For”—everything—“being a professional.” I should have thanked him for his concern when he didn’t even know me. For how he handled Alberta even though he didn’t have to. But my pride got in the way. My pride and my suspicion. There was still a very good chance he was Fletcher’s spy.
He blinked for a second, and then he grunted, leaving my hands. “Anytime.”
Was he mad? I couldn’t allow myself to care. He worked for a person who was on a mission to destroy me. I fiddled with my purse, reminding myself of the task ahead of me.
“Is there anybody you know that’s not an asshole?”
“Excuse me?”
“La faccia da culo, and now that lady… Thatjokewas horrible. Anybody who knew what it meant to lose someone they loved would never say that.”
“You’re right. It’s a feeling I won’t wish upon anyone. Not all can understand, though.” My eyes narrowed at him. “I hope you’re not speaking from experience.”
His eyes dimmed for a second. Then he feigned a smile. “We aren’t here to talk about me, Lady Brighton. Would you like something to drink?”
I didn’t push it because that was my opportunity to get the bug ready. “Yes. That would be nice.”
He slapped his thighs and stood. “What’s your poison?”
“Just water.”
“You sure?” He buttoned his jacket and pointed ahead. “There’s an open bar.”
“I…I don’t drink.” Not after Jack. The why stung like a slap on the face. I wondered if Fletcher hadn’t filled him in on that detail either.
He grinned. “Are you for real or are you afraid of getting drunk around me?”
Again, he sounded genuine, as if he really didn’t know. “I just don’t drink, Fabio. You shouldn’t either if you’re going to drive.”
“One drink won’t do anything.”
“That was what my husband said the night of the accident.” There. I dropped the fucking bomb.
He blinked, and his lips parted, and then he swallowed, rubbing a finger over his eyebrow. “Hewasdrivingthat night?”
