Culmination (Clandestine Affairs, #3) Page 2

  Vivid white and pink lilies on my mother’s grave catch my eye, and for a brief moment, I wonder who placed them there. The starbursts on the petals made the flowers Mom’s favorite, and they were mine, as well. Who else would’ve known that? I push the thought out of my mind for the moment, instead focusing on my parents—or what’s left of them on this Earth.

  “I wish you could have met him, Mom. I know you’d love him. He’s everything you ever wanted for me. Loving, protective, and he puts me above everything else. In his arms, I know I’m safe. Secure. Loved.”

  I take a deep breath, unsure of how to go on. It’s silly, my hesitation to announce the news. It’s not like I’m sixteen years old and admitting a mistake. Yet, still, it feels strange, telling my parents when I know they’ll never have the chance to meet their grandchild. I can barely suppress the sob that bubbles up at the reminder. At the utter travesty that my child will never know its grandparents.

  “God, I wish you both were here. I need you now more than ever. It was unexpected and definitely not planned, but I’m pregnant. We’re expecting, and the only way I could be happier is if the two of you were here to experience this with me.”

  The words catch in my throat, so I take a moment to compose myself, staring at the headstones, willing them to talk back—wishing I could hear their voices again. But that’s the thing about wishes, right?

  They very rarely come true.

  And that handsome knight in shining armor? He may just be hiding the devil under all that metal and chain.

  As if on cue, the sound of my cell phone ringing breaks me from my contemplation. It’s muffled from its place in the depths of my purse, but it’s unmistakable and does just the trick to keep my thoughts from sinking into an even darker place.

  I quickly wipe my eyes with the base of my thumb. Then I dig through the contents to grab my phone. Although I’m too late to answer, I’m relieved to see that it was Rafe whose called I missed.

  As much as I don’t want to leave this place, I know that Rafe and I have a long road ahead of us. A lot of work to do, and I’m anxious to return to him. To be back in his arms, where he can right all the wrongs. Where he can soothe my pain and breathe life back into me. If I can’t be with my parents, Rafe is the only one with whom I want to be. I vow, here and now, to do everything in my power to make our relationship work, because I’ll be damned if I should ever have to lose him, too.

  I lean forward and place my hands on the tombstones, closing my eyes and silently telling them goodbye. Then I promise that it won’t be so long between visits next time. At least, I hope it won’t.

  And when I turn around, I gasp in horror, quickly rising from the grass and searching for anything, anyone who can help me.

  But it’s no use. We’re entirely alone in this eerie place.

  Nothing and no one can save me now.

  Even though I set my jaw in defiance, terror flows through me, from head to toe, as I look into the narrowed eyes of the man who did this to me. Of the man who’d intended for me to join my parents on the other side. Of the man who now has the opportunity to finish what he started.

  Of the man I once loved and thought he felt the same of me.

  A sinister—albeit alarmingly charming—smile spreads across his face as he brings his hands together, steepling his index fingers, watching me with hawklike eyes.

  “Hello, Gabriella. I’ve been expecting you.”

  His emphasis on the second-to-last word doesn’t escape my attention.

  Without thinking, I move my hands to my belly, my fingers crossing protectively over my middle.

  His lips turn downward at my motion. “And I hear you’re expecting as well.”

  And just like before, my world goes black.

  “GABRIELLA.”

  The sound of my name echoes from somewhere in the recesses of my mind, slowly awakening me. Instead of the gray Chicago sky, when I open my eyes, I see that same blue-tinted world that surrounded my mom when I dreamt of her before. Only this time, it’s a different voice. It’s not my mom.

  It’s my dad.

  It has to be, even though I haven’t heard that voice in so long. I’m so desperate to believe it’s my father that I barely notice he’s calling me by my full name, not his usual sweet Brie nickname.

  “Daddy?”

  I can hardly believe my eyes when they lock in on him watching me from a mere ten feet away. The vision of him is my favorite, the one I always have when I’m thinking of him. He’s dressed in a dark-gray pinstripe suit with a handkerchief in the suit pocket. Pink, of course—courtesy of me. The hat adorning his head reminds me of a 1940s gangster, which was the exact look he was going for.

  The memory hits me square in the chest, so hard that I feel as if the wind’s been knocked out of me. Dad wore that very suit the first time he took us to Philadelphia and to visit the prison. He didn’t wear the suit to the penitentiary; Mom put a nix on that. But when we went out that evening to my first Broadway show, The Newsies, he brought out his inner Capone. Well, at least he tried.

  In hindsight, I wonder if he knew exactly who he was working for at the time.

  A ringing sound from off in the distance jars me from my thoughts. I glance up and see my father watching me with panicked eyes. It’s a look I’ve never seen on him before, and it chills me to the bone.

  “You’re not safe,” he insists, his throaty whisper echoing all around us. “You must wake up.”

  Ignoring his warning, I shake my head and attempt to take a step closer to him, only to find some sort of invisible barrier keeping me from moving forward. Undeterred, I stretch my arms out towards him, begging for him to come closer. Though this may be just a dream, I want his arms around me. I want to feel the protective cocoon of my daddy’s arms, even for a stolen moment that isn’t real.

  Just as I think he’s going to reach me, his image flickers. His eyes widen and he furiously shakes his head as he begins to fade away.

  “No!” I shout. “Don’t leave me, Daddy. I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t understand any of it.”

  “I know, baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  His chant continues until he disappears completely from my sight. Tears spill over onto my cheeks and evaporate into plumes as soon as they hit my skin.

  I hate this place, whatever in-between my subconscious brings me to. I vow never to dream again.

  I vow…

  My eyes grow tired, and I can no longer keep them open. “Daddy…”

  “Gabriella.” There’s a short pause. Then the voice becomes more alarmed. The words, “I’m so sorry. So sorry,” resound over and over again.

  It’s the same chant from my dream, but it’s different somehow. This time, the voice is less ethereal. It’s deeper, gravelly, and I realize that someone is holding me. My dream father couldn’t reach me, but here, in the real world, someone has scooped me up and keeps me in his lap as if to take away all the pain.

  Rafe must’ve found me. I sigh, sinking into his tight embrace. As his hand comes to the side of my head, he tucks me close to his chest, rocking back and forth.

  “I’m so sorry, Gabriella.” His voice is a constant whisper with traces of agony, regret, and something else.

  Longing.

  Why would Rafe long for me?

  As I’m coming to, confusion settles over me. My stomach roils, twisting and turning, my sweet baby unhappy with my choice of breakfast just hours ago.

  My sweet baby.

  Just like that, everything clicks into place. Where I am. Who I’m with. The last voice I heard right before I fainted. The one I hadn’t thought I’d ever hear again.

  Slowly, I blink my eyes open and find myself staring up into the most beautiful pair of green eyes I’ve ever seen.

  No, my comfort in this time of need is most certainly not Rafe.

  It’s Adrian.

  And as I gaze into his longing expression, I’m reminded of how easy it was to be mesmerized by him
. Because the man holding me right now? He’s the man I fell in love with. The man that, if he would just remain so, I could easily fall in love with again.

  At the thought, my stomach protests and I have to break the hold he has on me. I push off of him and he lets me go without a fight, without protest—much to my surprise.

  I roll away from him and take a moment to catch my breath. As I place my hand on the cold ground, I gingerly rise into a sitting position. The motion sends shooting pains through my head, and when I lift my fingers to gently caress the area there, I feel wet stickiness in my hair. When I bring my fingers into my line of sight, my stomach decides it’s had enough and I barely have time to move away from my father’s grave before I’m heaving into the grass at the edge of the paved walkway.

  The sound of footsteps shuffling catches my attention, and I glance up in time to see Adrian stride towards me then bend down at my side. A steady hand sweeps my hair from over my shoulders and holds it together at the base of my neck. I’m already trembling when his other hand comes to rest on the small of my back, his thumb rubbing in soothing circles.

  Adrian? Soothing?

  He’s kept this part of himself shielded from me for so long. Why would he pretend to be comforting now? It’s precisely what I mean to ask when my stomach settles. I wipe my mouth and then slowly rise to my feet to look down at the man kneeling before me.

  A shockwave of pain bursts in my chest as I take in the scene playing out before me. Here is Adrian Morningstar, the man who was the love of my life not so long ago, on bended knee, his large, tan palm holding mine. When I rise, his hands slide from my hair and back down to one of my own, and even though I know I should withdraw from his touch, I allow the contact to remain, unable to tear my eyes from his.

  It’s almost cruel for us to find ourselves in this beautiful choreography that signifies when love is so strong between two hearts that it’s time to take the next step. It wasn’t all that long ago that I was dreaming of the moment Adrian would take my hand, go down to one knee, and profess his undying love for me. Tell me he couldn’t go another second without making me his. Ask me to be his wife, his only, for the rest of our lives.

  But then again, why would I have ever needed a ring? To Adrian, I was already his.

  Still, this reminder that that dream, that life, is over hits me with greater force than I could have expected.

  But I can’t let him know that. I can’t allow him to see the pain of his betrayal is still so fresh, so raw. Therefore, with a swift shake of my head, I forget who he once was and focus on the man he’s proven to be over the last year.

  The man who tried to kill me.

  The thought sends a chill down my spine, but I refuse to let him see me falter.

  Swallowing hard, I set my chin and glare down at him. “Is this it, Adrian? Have you come to finish what you started?”

  Even though I’m projecting courage, I’m trembling all the way down to my toes. Still, I glance around the cemetery, searching for anything, anyone that will aid in getting me away from him. We’re utterly alone.

  “Gabriella, we must get you to a doctor,” he gently commands, ignoring my question, which is both confusing and infuriating. It catches me off guard.

  “Wait. What?” I ask, stammering like an idiot.

  Did I hear him correctly? A doctor?

  His eyes soften. “I apologize for scaring you. It was not my intention to do so. When you turned and saw me, you fainted, hitting your head on the side of the headstone on your way down. I can see you’re bleeding. You need to be examined.”

  “How did you find me?” I ask, caring less about my supposed injury and more about my question.

  He sighs and runs a hand through his messed-up hair. That’s when I take a moment to study him. Since he’s been missing, his once glowing tan has faded. He’s lost weight—muscle mass—and the dark circles under his eyes dull his usually striking features. It’s as if these weeks have been as trying on him as they’ve been on me.

  Except I hadn’t tried drowning him in a sinking vehicle.

  “What is it you always told me, Adrian?” I tap my index finger on my chin, hoping I’m projecting a haughty, devil-may-care attitude I’m not actually feeling. “Ah, yes. Use your words. That was one of your favorite lines, so why don’t we reverse the roles here? Use. Yours. Words.”

  “You’ve changed.”

  “You’ve noticed.”

  Something unfathomable plays across his subdued features. Remorse? It can’t be.

  “You are no longer as you once were,” he says. “Though, I suppose, that does not mean you are not what you should be.”

  Ah, back to classic Adrian. Cryptic as ever.

  “Adrian, I’m not here to play word games. What do you want? How did you find me? I will not ask again. I will turn and leave, and it will be the last you ever see of me.”

  It’s as if Adrian’s noticing that I’m different has somehow given me confidence. It’s clear to me, possibly foolishly, that if he’s come here to hurt me, he’d already have done it. But I’m tired, I’m worn down, and I just want answers and for this to finally be over.

  Adrian moves to take a step forward, but then he stops himself. His usually chiseled jaw is now more angular, and I wonder he last ate. Hollow cheekbones are on display as he sucks in a deep breath before he finally breaks his silence.

  “Very well. When my sources informed me you were in Chicago, I knew you’d eventually visit this place. I just simply…waited you out. To be honest, it astonished me that this was not the first place you came.”

  “You’ve been staking out a cemetery? Isn’t that a bit morbid, even for you?” I scoff.

  His thumb and his forefinger pinch the bridge of his nose as if I’m trying his patience. Which I know I probably am. “Gabriella, I was desperate to find you. After…after everything. But you haven’t been alone for a single second.” He growls his frustration. “You’ve been with that man every waking moment, and I couldn’t get close. I knew this place was my only chance.”

  “After?” I screech. “After what? After you tried to kill me?”

  And there’s my friendly reminder that I’m likely dealing with a madman. I glance around, realizing there’s not another soul in sight. Even though I should feel apprehensive, something deep down tells me all will be well.

  Adrian tsks, and God, if he doesn’t sound like his old self all over again. “This is neither the time nor the place to have this discussion.” His chest heaves as he releases a heavy sigh and then disrespects the dead by leaning back against a decrepit tombstone. His green eyes narrow, his mouth forming a tight line in an expression that lets me know he’s unhappy. He switches tactics, his voice soft when he calls, “Darling, you’re pregnant. If you’re going to be stubborn, at least think about the baby.”

  “It’s not yours,” I blurt out, my cheeks instantly flaming at the cruelty in my tone.

  I have no idea how he knows. Oh wait, he’s the tremendous all-knowing Adrian Morningstar. He probably has resources at the hospital.

  I watch in morbid fascination as his nostrils flare. Once remarkably brilliant emerald eyes are alarmingly dull and vacant. Then I lose them entirely while his head falls to rest on his crossed forearms perched on his bent knees. He doesn’t speak a word.

  There’s a piece of me that wants to reach out to him. To tell him I’m sorry. The truth is, though, if I’ve hurt Adrian for falling in love with Rafe, I am sorry. I’m just not sorry I’ve found family, found love, with someone else.

  Finally, he inhales deeply, his broad shoulders lifting and then subsequently falling when he exhales a long, audible breath. When he looks up at me, his stoic mask returns.

  “I am aware the child who grows inside you is not mine. That does not mean I couldn’t love it as such.”

  The words shock me. Is Adrian saying what I think he’s saying? This man, who values ownership above all else, would love something that belongs to someone else? It’s imp
ossible to even fathom.

  Before I can seek clarification, he pushes up to kneel directly in front of me. He takes the handkerchief from his suit pocket. When he dabs the edge of my hairline, I flinch and suck in deep breath,. It’s strange, his being here, his taking care of me.

  My letting him.

  “I know you’re angry with me. You have every right to be. But please, if you’ll let me explain—”

  I jerk back from him and glare. “Explain? No, Adrian.” I shake my head profusely. “The time for explanation is long gone. You had ample opportunity to tell me the truth. All the trips, the late nights, the aloofness. The coldness.”

  He simply listens to my tirade without so much as an eye twitch. As if everything I’m saying is insignificant.

  My eyes narrow. “The panties,” I remind him through clenched teeth.

  The mask of indifference on his face contorts into an expression of pain. It’s too much for me to bear. I dart across the grass to scoop up my purse, and then I turn on my heel, hightailing out of the cemetery, hoping the cab driver is still there. Adrian’s quick to catch up, but he remains a beat or two behind me. Relief swells when I see the familiar yellow car and middle-aged driver waiting patiently, no doubt engrossed in some app on his phone.

  “Gabriella.”

  The softness in Adrian’s voice stops me in my tracks.

  “I know this is shocking. My being here, showing up like this, but I would appreciate the opportunity to explain myself. I need for you to understand. All is not what it seems. I promise you. Your safety and that of your unborn child are of utmost importance to me.”

  Once again, he’s mentioned my child. The one that he knows isn’t his.

  The concern laced in his voice is enough for my curiosity to wins out. I force myself to turn, and when I see concern also evident in his expression, I nod. “Okay, Adrian. You win. I will listen—only because I want answers.”

  His face lights up until I shake my head.

  “But not here. Not today.”

  “Tomorrow?” he asks, sounding hopeful.

  “I can’t make you any promises, Adrian. I need to talk to…” I pause as his smile falters. For some reason, I find it hard to discuss my current love with my past one. Then again, Adrian’s only brought this upon himself. I clear my throat. “Rafe. He’ll want to know you’re here. That I’m with you.”