Made For You

Ch. 31: The Sweetest Threat

Sofia

The shower water eases the tension that bit me. The welcoming coolness of it, after the trauma at the horror house, has my nerves feeling lighter. Behind my shut eyelids, I keep picturing the silhouette that reached for me with greedy fingers, Dante's voice chilling against my skin.

Gabriel might have warned me about not letting me breathe once we came home but he didn't follow up with his sexy threat.

He carried me into our room, and then when I thought he was ready to make a move, he set me down gently and told me to catch a shower. I lamented, thinking he had lost interest on our way here. It wasn't until I was inside the bathroom, stripped off my clothes, and under the shower that I felt what he saw in me.

The trauma was all over my face. I wasn't over it.

I am now.

Fighting these battles with my brain has been a thing for years, with Dante being added to the picture after that night. It feels strange at times, knowing how easily my sanity can slip through the cracks, spill like blood on cold white floors—a crimson painting against stark white.

He knows.

Gabriel knows what I need when I don't know myself. How can he read me so easily when I cannot even peel one layer off his tenacious personality?

The thought unnerves me as I step out of the shower cubicle after drying myself, padding my way naked to grab my clothes. I change into my pair of white sleep shorts and a comfortable crop top before heading out, my hair not blow-dried but dry enough that the ends won't stain my clothes.

Stepping outside, my attention immediately veers to Gabriel who is sitting on the couch, his laptop, placed on the coffee table across, playing a footage. He is so entranced with what he is seeing, with the thumb of his right hand brushing over his chin, that he doesn't notice my arrival.

He hasn't changed and is still dressed in his white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark dress pants. They are wrinkled from when I climbed him to escape my ghosts. No one would guess that he has just been home from an amusement park.

The laptop is showing footage of the night of our engagement—particularly the moment he was shot. My heart leaps when the scene repeats itself over and over again, the short video playing in a loop. The angle shows us the masked attacker hiding behind a pillar and the moment Gabriel shoved me behind him.

I sit beside him, the soft couch cold with the air conditioner high, causing me to shiver when my bare thighs greet the fabric.

"Did you find anything?" I ask Gabriel, capturing his attention from the screen.

Eyes the color of burnt coffee turn to me, their gaze confused for a second before it dips lower down my body where my nipples are sharp as nails with the chilly air of the room. I seek his warmth, shifting slightly closer to him but pretending it is done unintentionally.

"Hmm...yeah..." he mutters quietly, his eyebrows crossing. "We think the attack was orchestrated by this new family that recently shifted here. Something Giovanni something. He used to be big in Florence. He has been trying to get my attention."

"So, it was him?"

"Isiah thinks so. He's trying to find out more but...this footage..." He pauses, staring at the screen again before continuing, "I don't understand something about this. This man isn't like the other soldiers. His movements are haphazard."

"What gives?"

Gabriel cuts a vague glance at me. "He missed the shot. The soldati never misses the shot. They are trained better than that."