Chapter 129 - The Man who Darkens the Threshold

The trouble with things finally being out in the open is that you tend to think of the nastiest possibilities all the time. And tonight, as Claire put down the receiver, she realizes this might truly be a long night.

Gabriel paces the room, scratching his chin, staring at blank space.

"What do we do?" she says.

"Nothing," he says. "He will come to us. And that's when we'll try to sort things out."

"You're not thinking of resorting violence, aren't you?"

Gabriel laughs, despite the situation. "Of course, not! This is my brother we speak of." Then he stops mid-stride as a thought strikes him. "Although if push comes to shove, I'm afraid I have to do something utterly drastic…and embarrassing."

"How do you mean?"

"There's only one person in the world who can straighten him out. And I'm deathly afraid to let her come into the picture. So as much as possible, I would like to solve this between the two of us."

"Are you talking about an old girlfriend? His first love?"

"Oh, no," Gabriel says. "I speak of Matilde, our mother." Gabriel cringes at the mere mention of his mother. "I don't want her getting involved. As much as possible, I don't want her to come into the picture—our picture, with what he have now—and…should I say, sour the thing I have tried so hard to sweeten."

Claire slumps on the sofa. "But Miguel seems unstoppable."

"I believe he can still see reason," Gabriel says. "He's just…in love with the wrong person."

She says nothing. She wonders what she's supposed to do in the hours, days, weeks ahead, with Miguel's specter always in the periphery of her vision. Is he stalking her, watching her every move? She doesn't feel safe anymore, even in the confines of this swanky penthouse suite. Miguel seems to have become such a wild card, and she's not sure what he's going to do next—and next time she might not be so lucky, or feisty enough to repel him. Yet, somehow, in the depths of her heart, she's still hoping Miguel really would see reason.

Gabriel is on the phone speaking to people, and from what she hears, he's talking to some of his trusted bodyguards, whom she has never seen. Dale once said that Gabriel's bodyguards are instructed to be as invisible as possible. "He doesn't want a show of force," Dale said. "But he's not naïve, either—he knows the world can be a pretty fuċkėd up place. So he needs the help of certain individuals to ensure his safety. And you can be sure, Miss Claire, that his people are also ensuring your safety."

Claire remembers Dale's words now, and wonders what happened to those so-called bodyguards yesterday morning, when she was ȧssaulted? Where the heck were they when Miguel was grabbing her? When she had to resort to her own inner courage to repulse him? She fights the urge to be upfront to Gabriel about it, but maybe it's more appropriate to discuss some other time. Right now, their heads are full of toxic things, and they could really use some breathing space.

"I'll have to go back to my place," Gabriel says as soon as his chat on the phone's over. "I need to take care of some urgent business."

She gazes at him, into his eyes, trying to convey her growing fear. Yet, she says nothing. She smiles. She doesn't want to always be the damsel in distress; she's a grown woman who should be able to take care of herself. Or at least that's what she's trying to do, despite what she truly feels now.

Even so, Gabriel senses her anxiety. He gives her the tightest embrace, and it would have lasted a long time if not for Sam the puppy, who suddenly feels the urge to wedge herself in between their feet, pawing at them, asking for a piece of the action, too. That gives them a reason to laugh a little.

"Don't worry," Gab says. "I won't take chances this time. I'll increase security. I'll bring back the four bodyguards ȧssigned to you."

"I didn't know you removed them."

He shrugs. "I felt that I needed to give you some degree of privacy. After all, I didn't see the need to retain them. I only kept the services of a lone bodyguard, but he'd been instructed to keep a certain distance. Now I realize it was a bad decision. Yesterday's ȧssault would never have happened if I never relaxed security around you. I should have realized you're on a different stature now. And you're the most precious woman in the whole world to me. Anything happens to you, it would be worse than death for me."

Claire's jaw drops; so that explains the fruition of yesterday's ȧssault. To think somebody was being paid to protect her, and yet! "Are you sure about the capabilities of these bodyguards?"

He smiles. "As sure as I'm standing here. In fact, two are standing just outside the door right now. There's a new security team that is sweeping this entire building, identifying the weak spots. Now I'm not doing this because I consider Miguel to be such a bad-ass ninja warrior; I know him to be a lover, not a fighter. But these guards, they're here for our peace of mind. I don't want anything to happen to you or to my brother. I will save him from himself. I only need a good opportunity. I need him in a room with me."

Claire frowns. "I don't think that's possible. Miguel would avoid facing you like the plague."

"Let's see." Gabriel smiles, but she notices his tired, bloodshot eyes, like he has never had a good night's sleep for some time now. She decides not to mention it. "But for now, you need to relax. Let's see what happens tomorrow."

"Okay," Claire says, not feeling okay at all. But it has been a long day, and maybe at some point, it's only wise to end it. She suddenly feels deeply sentimental, throwing her arms around him. Gabriel is surprised, but he welcomes it, and returns the hug. He breathes in the scent of her hair, her skin, reminding her of freshly picked flowers, of summer mornings, of gentle perfumes—and if he's not careful, he might even forget himself. Sometimes, it's moments like this that's make everything worthwhile. Then an even bigger surprise: Claire touches his chin, tilts it toward her, then gives him a deep, wet kiss that quivers with insatiable longing. He could get lost in that kiss—in his head, galaxies are born, nebulae swirl around the vast blackness, new life sprouts from terra firma, yet none of that shit matters—only her lips, this kiss, and that unforgettable face whose half-closed eyes speak of a thousand untold stories, all of them of pure unbridled pŀėȧsurė.

"Take care," Claire whispers after the kiss has ended.

"I will," he says, "because I need to come back to get myself more of that kind of kiss."

She giggles. "There's a lot more where that came from." And much, much more—but this she doesn't say out loud. She only let her eyes speak it.

Gabriel was telling the truth, as it turns out—there are tall, burly guys in black suits standing by her door when she opens it to let him out. They seem like they're made of stone. Gabriel speaks to them in hushed tones. There's something military-like in the way they respond to Gab's instructions; they certainly look like they mean business. Ten Miguels could never take out any one of these guys.

The new guards and that kiss—those seem more than enough to ȧssuage her fear. She could sleep tonight, and she could sleep well. Tomorrow is another day, she tells herself. Although she wonders, in the depths of her heart, what Miguel might be doing now—is he well? Is he going to be fine? Little did Claire know that those questions are pointless—right now, guard or no guard, Miguel is standing right across the street, watching The Residence, looking up at the lighted window of the penthouse suite. Waiting for the right time.