“Cool. Text me when you’re free.”
After we hang up, I grab my laptop and start chipping away at schoolwork, but my mind is elsewhere. The conversation with Adriana lingers in my head, as does the conversation I know I need to have with Gabriel.
Seriously, when is all of the drama in my life going to end?
My phone chirps and a text from Gabriel illuminates my screen, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Gabriel: I’m picking you up in 30. Dress comfortably.
A thrill of excitement shoots through me—followed by a twinge of guilt. It’s only been a couple of hours since I saw him this morning, but I already miss him. Still, the conversation I’m avoiding weighs heavy in the back of my mind. Whatever he’s planning, might as well enjoy it before dropping the bomb that’s bound to ruin everything.
Closing my laptop, I scramble to my feet and rush to the bathroom.
After the world’s fastest shower in the history of showers, I towel off my hair, finger-combing it into a messy braid. I throw on ripped jeans and an oversized t-shirt, slipping into my checkered Vans before pausing at my dresser. My fingers hover over my stack of bracelets, the ones I usually wear to cover my scars. But today ... I don’t feel the need to hide them.
The doorbell rings, and I rush downstairs, tugging the door open to find Gabriel standing there, looking effortlessly sexy in low-slung jeans and a fitted white t-shirt. My eyes can’t help butsweep over his broad shoulders, the way the fabric pulls tight across his chest.
No sexy thoughts, Cecilia. We’re taking things slow, not daydreaming about how to jump his bones.
“Hey,” I say, grinning despite my nerves.
His smile is just as big. “You ready?”
Before I can answer, the sound of a car door slamming pulls our attention. I turn just in time to see my attorney, Mr. Ayala, stepping out of his sedan, his expression grim. My stomach tightens. This can’t be good.
Gabriel’s brow furrows. “Were you expecting him today?”
“No.” My voice comes out more uncertain than I’d like.
I step aside, and Gabriel follows me into the house, his expression leery at the unexpected guest. The air feels suddenly too thick, the easy mood Gabriel and I had just moments ago shattered.
“Ms. Russo, Mr. Herrera,” Mr. Ayala greets us. “Do you have a moment?” The question is directed at me, but it feels like a dismissal for Gabriel.
“We were actually about to head out,” Gabriel interjects, his tone casual, but I don’t miss the edge to it. “But we’ve got a few minutes. Right?” He glances at me, his smile tight, as if asking for permission to stay.
“Yeah.” I manage. Whatever this is, I’m not ready. “What’s up?”
Mr. Ayala doesn’t seem happy about having an audience, which should’ve been my first warning.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” Mr. Ayala begins, his voice clipped. “I spoke with Mr. Holt’s counsel this morning, and there’s been talk of a plea agreement.”
My stomach drops. Already? Jaymin didn’t waste any time.
Gabriel shakes his head in disbelief. “No way,” he snaps, his voice rising. “Tell them to shove their deal where the sundoesn’t shine. Cecilia’s not about to accept whatever bullshit offer they’re making.”
“Actually …” Shit. I was not prepared for this.
Gabriel’s head snaps toward me, his golden brown eyes darkening. “Did you already know about this?”
I shift on my feet, my pulse quickening, avoiding his gaze. I do not want to have this conversation right now. “I ... Umm. Sort of. I spoke with Jaymin Holt last night and she offered five years for Austin, three for Gregory and Parker?—”
“Fucking hell!” Gabriel’s voice explodes, his hand flying to his hair in frustration. “You talked to her? That’s where you were?” His eyes bore into mine, and I flinch.
My pulse quickens. His anger is a palpable force, like a heat wave pressing down on me. “It’s not what you think?—”
“You can’t seriously be considering this!” His hands rake through his hair, his eyes blazing. “He’s facing fifteen years to life, Cecilia. You’re honestly considering letting that asshole get off with five? You can’t trust anything that comes out of that family’s mouth. You know that. I can’t believe you’d?—”
“Gabe—”
