Sugar, Spice & Secrets

62

I didn't dare go home.

The thought of facing my neighbors, of walking through those familiar streets with all the whispers and knowing glances, was too much to bear.

The rumors had spread like wildfire, and the last thing I needed was the suffocating pity or, worse, the smug satisfaction of those who thrived on gossip. Besides, it wasn't safe for me there, not now, with the swarm of reporters buzzing like angry bees, waiting to sting at the first sign of movement.

So instead, I called my parents, my voice shaky as I explained that they should stay away from the house for now. "I'll explain everything later," I promised, trying to keep the panic from my voice. They sensed the urgency and agreed without pressing for details, their concern palpable even over the phone.

But you know what I dared to do? I went to Gabriele's house.

It was a bold move, reckless even, but I needed to be with him. I needed the comfort of his presence, the reassurance he wasn't going to dip after giving me a false sense of assurance.

The drive there was a blur, my mind replaying the day's events in an endless loop. The confrontation with Avery, the onslaught of reporters, and the soul-crushing headlines.

When we arrived, the imposing gates of his estate swung open. The environment was different to that of mine—there were no reporters in sight, no cameras flashing incessantly. It was as if this place existed in a bubble, immune to the chaos back at my side of the city.

As Gabriele parked his car, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of my stomach. He stepped out and came around to open my door, his touch gentle and reassuring as he helped me out of the car.

Looking around, I realized that there wasn't a soul in sight. No staff bustling about, no servants waiting to greet us. It was eerily quiet, the only sound the distant hum of cicadas in the warm evening air.

"Where is everyone?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Gabriele's expression softened as he took my hand, leading me towards the front entrance of the house. "I asked them to stay away," he explained, his voice calm and steady. "I didn't want any distractions tonight. Just you and me."

Reaching the front door, he reached out to open it, ushering me inside with a gentle smile. We stepped inside, the door closing behind us with a soft click. He turned the lock, ensuring our privacy.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, his voice gentle as he looked at me with concern.

I shook my head. My stomach was twisted with so much fear and anxiety that the thought of eating seemed impossible. "Not really," I murmured.

"I can make you a sandwich," he offered, his tone light in an attempt to ease my tension.

I shook my head again. "I'm really not hungry," I repeated, managing a small smile.

He just nodded as continued to lead me towards the kitchen. He didn't hold my hand or put an arm around me, but I found myself following him mindlessly, my feet moving of their own accord.

We walked into his kitchen, and without giving me a heads up, hoisted me up onto the island table in the middle of the kitchen.

I yelped, grabbing onto his arms

We walked into his kitchen, and without giving me a heads-up, he hoisted me up onto the counter in the middle of the kitchen. I yelped, grabbing onto his arms for balance, my eyes wide with surprise.