Incriminated (2 page)

After a few hours of worrying, crying, screaming, and panicking I had finally fallen asleep. My dreams echoed my reality. I found myself running, screaming, begging for someone to help me—but no one ever came.  I woke up at 5 am, a light sheen of sweat sticking to my skin from the tossing and turning I had done all night.

I had no idea what on earth I could do about the situation. I had considered the idea that maybe it was just the bluff of an incredibly hurt woman, and for that I couldn't blame her. However, the more I turned the idea over in my head I decided "bluff" probably wasn't in her personal dictionary.

How could I have been the only one she ever found out about? Alec had been so familiar with Genovese's routine that he hadn't even questioned his motive when I went to his office that night. Clearly, I had come after a long line of conquests. But if that was the case—how had she never known before?

Was I the only one that ever said no? Perhaps, things had never gone this far before.  If there was no trouble with his conquest things went smoothly—no one ended up kidnapped, or dead.  She said the pictures were found after they searched his office—if he was alive she may have never had a reason to be in there before.

Sighing, I slipped on a pair of sweatpants and went to the kitchen, pulling a home-made cinnabon from a small container on the counter. I turned the Keurig on and loaded it with my most recent addiction, White Macadamia flavored coffee. Once the scent of brewing coffee filled the air I leaned back against the counter and considered my options, taking a generous bite from my pastry.

I could call Michael. He would know what to do, and would recognize the severity of the situation. Maybe he'd even be able to set the situation straight. But if I let him back into my life, was I opening doors I wasn't ready for?

I could call the police—but how would I explain my involvement in the situation? Would they really be satisfied with "the crazy wife of the late Mr. Genovese wants me dead for NOT sleeping with her husband BECAUSE he had a bunch of pictures of me?"

What if I went to her myself and tried to explain? The second the thought stewed in my brain I quickly dismissed it. She had no reason to believe me, and I didn't have any concrete proof. I couldn't show her any tangible evidence that I had never been with him and there was too much of a chance that it would implicate Michael and tie me to the scene of the crime. Even now I still didn't know how Michael staged the whole thing, but I was eternally grateful that enforcement seemingly had no idea I had been in that apartment.

I knew I couldn't do anything that would call legal attention to me. I didn't want the investigation reopened, with press screaming my name to anyone that would listen. My parents had just barely relaxed from my original disappearance; swallowing down my obvious lie of winning a trip to Hawaii from work. My getting a cellphone had helped the situation a lot, and now I didn't go a day without talking to one of them.

So what did that leave? Did I really have no other option but Michael? With realization setting in I sighed and pulled my phone out, pressing "Call" on his contact before I had time to talk myself down. The phone rang once before I heard his voice echo through the phone, hoarse and familiar all at once.

"Gabriella."

"Michael—I need you to come over, it's important—" I started to explain, before I was interrupted by a "be there in half an hour" followed by silence. I sighed and put my phone on the counter, finished my coffee then ran to the bathroom to shower.

After a 15 minute shower, I toyed with different items in my closet before I settled on a form fitting t-shirt and a pair of light denim shorts. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and after debating with myself decided not to put any make-up on. I didn't owe him anything and definitely had no desire to impress him.

Just as he had promised, there was a quiet knock at my door half an hour from when we spoke. I opened the door and stared at him for a moment, unable to stop the slideshow of memories from peeling through my brain. My eyes traced his perfect nose, his full lips, his sculpted arms that peeked out of his t-shirt, the hints of his beautifully toned stomach—It had been a long time since I looked at him this way. By the time I looked back to his face, a smirk was prominently placed, his eyebrow raised.

"See something you like?" he mumbled in a husky tone, causing my breath to hitch.

I took a deep breath and shook my head, stepping out of the doorway so he could close the door behind him. I motioned towards the breakfast bar and began to brew him coffee, realizing I still remembered exactly how he liked it.

"Your apartment looks really nice, Brie." I nodded a thank you before placing his coffee in front of him, taking a seat next to him after.

"Mrs. Genovese found me last night," I said abruptly, cutting the small chat out of the way.

"Excuse me?! What’d she say?!" His eyes were wide but he sat there in silence as I re-capped the whole conversation for him.

His face took on a grim expression once I finished, and I could see the gears turning. Finally, after minutes of me doing everything I could not to stare at him, he spoke.

"I'm going to take care of this for you. I would never let her hurt you. I'm so sorry," he tried to finish, but his voice broke at the end. I looked up to see his eyes were rimmed with red as if he were doing everything he could to keep the tears back.

"I think of you every day, you know. I wonder if you're happy, if you miss me, if you'll ever give me a chance. I thought I was dreaming when you called this morning. Even now—sitting across from you—" he reached up, sliding his fingers over my cheek before I could pull away. "I feel like I'm in a fantasy, instead of reality. You don't know how remorseful I am. How much I wish I could take back everything I did.”

I sighed and looked away, the full weight of being here with him finally becoming real. It had been easy to keep my feelings locked away when he wasn't around—I had constant distractions, and lots to focus on. But with him here, with me in such a vulnerable position once again, I felt myself swaying towards him, relishing in the scent of after-shave, coffee and Irish Springs soap.

"Michael. I don't know that I could ever fully get over what you did. I've often thought of you, thought of what we shared—the intensity to our relationship—sometimes I wonder if it was more fueled by the situation then by actual feelings that we had for each other. If you felt for me what you think you do, I doubt you could've let me walk into that trap," I mumbled sadly, turning away from him.

Surprise rippled through me when I felt the arms I had secretly longed for wrap around my small waist. I stiffened as he pulled me into his lap, his face warm against my neck.

"My feelings were fueled by you, cara mia- by your scent, your smile, your laugh, your intelligence, your attitude- all you. I was just too blind to realize what I was ruining. I would do anything just to see your face flush the way it did after I kissed you, to see your body swaying slowly to Sinatra or Dean Martin while you work away in the kitchen."

I pulled myself out of his lap and backed away, making sure I was out of arms-length.

"For now, can you just focus on getting rid of this psychotic woman? I've done so much to get my life back to normal, and here I find it spiraling down all over again. I don't want to live in fear—and I believe that's something you promised I would never have to experience." I crossed my arms over my chest and bravely stared into his eyes, trying not to get lost in the green hues that exuded passion for me.

"I already know what to do to take care of her. Just do me a favor and get her out of your head. I'll update you in a few days when the situation is taken care of."

"Just—don't kill her, please. No more bloodshed." I asked, frowning.

"I'm not going to kill her, Brie. I told you; I've changed. However, that doesn't mean I'm not going to let her pay for her own share of sins. She was involved in more of the business than anyone is aware of. I didn't find out until all of the surveillance I was doing—I had considered turning it in then, but at the time I figured the death of her husband was more than enough for her to deal with. But now—with her threatening you," his eyes grew dark, his fists bundling up quickly. "I won't let her get away with that."

I nodded weakly and looked at the floor, unsure of what to do at this point.

"Well, thank you. Please let me know when everything is safe," I said quietly. Before I could offer to walk him out his hand was on my jaw, lifting my head. My eyes searched his in an attempt to answer my confusion, but instead I was met with warm soft lips against mine. I didn't answer right away—his lips firmly pressed against mine as if he was trying to force me to feel what he was feeling. His free arm snaked around me and pulled me into his body, his tongue coaxing my lips to part.

The emotion hit me like a wrecking ball, pulling back all of our better memories in one huge crash. I let my eyes slide shut and told my brain to give it a rest. My lips pressed against his tentatively, and it was then that I felt a small drop of moisture against my skin. I opened my eyes and pulled away to see that tears were slipping out of his eyes.

"I'm going to make you safe," he said softly before turning and walking out of my apartment, the door closing quietly behind him.

I stood there, raising my hands to my lips to touch them softly. 
Could this work?

It wasn't lost on me how often I ended up in a situation that would have been aided by having a best friend. The fact that I never had anyone to give me a second opinion caused more problems than I'd like to admit.

It wasn't that I had 
no 
friends; it was just that I didn't have any close ones. I had gone out for drinks with girls from work, had even seen a movie with one of them! However, it didn't change that I didn't feel the usual drive that the average person felt to share all of their feelings and secrets with someone else. I suppose that made me a private person, or maybe just a closet introvert.

Hours had passed since Michael had been here this morning, but his kiss still remained firmly on my mind. I didn't have someone to tell me if I was being delightfully dense, or if I should be giving him another try. Heck, no one, aside from Michael himself even knew he existed in my life.

I sighed and finished applying my make-up, giving myself a once over in the mirror. Regardless of the continued ridiculousness that tinged my life I still had to go to work; hell I welcomed the idea of being in a public place, surrounded by lots of people.

I smoothed my hand over my casual spring dress, enjoying the way it firmly hugged by upper curves then sprawled out and hung around me. It was a soft shade of red, close to coral, and flattered my skin tone. My hair hung around me in waves, framing my face and dropping to the seam beneath my breast.

I took a deep breath and put on my best smile, leaving the apartment moments after. Today would be my first full day as a hostess and I was excited. I was ready to feel normal, and accomplished.

The first few hours of work went by in a blur of smiling, pulling chairs out, and friendly waves as patrons left. I took my break at the bar, enjoying an iced tea and an amazing Asian-inspired chicken salad. Once I finished I made my way back to my post, a little less surprised to see Michael there for a second time this week.

"Table for one I'm guessing?" I said sternly, though I let a hint of a smile slip out after.

He nodded, offering me a small grin himself. I led him to a high-top near the bar and set his menu down.

"Yuengling?" I asked, remembering his beer of choice from before.

"Actually, how about a Dr.Pepper?" His grin grew, earning him an eye roll from me. I went to the bar and fetched his drink, bringing it back shortly.

"I just wanted to let you know; things are going well. I turned in some evidence to a… friend of mine. You shouldn't have to worry about her any longer. But more importantly I was wondering if maybe we could start over. Nothing crazy, I'll take what I can get at this point, Brie. How about coffee tomorrow morning?" He stared up at me hopefully, his eyes locking on mine as I internally debated.

What was the worst that could happen over coffee? I wasn't promising him anything, we'd be in public, and then I wouldn't feel guilty for everything he's doing for me. Not that I should feel guilty, since it was all his fault anyway.

"Alright, coffee. Want to meet me at the bakery next door tomorrow at 10? They have good coffee and everything they bake is excellent," I said quickly, irritated at the eagerness I could pick up in my own voice.

"It's a date." He winked and began to talk about specials, effectively cutting me off from correcting him.

Once he was gone my head swam with possibilities, the rest of the night coming and going quickly.

I closed my apartment door behind me and began to peel my dress off as I made my way towards the bedroom, eager to change into anything else. Once I was comfortably dressed in my sweats I parked myself in front of the TV, determined to think about anything other than Michael.

To my delight, National Treasure 2 was just starting, and Nicholas Cage was front and center in all of his adventurous glory. I tried to ignore the nagging in the back of my brain that Michael had played this movie for me, after stalking me for a month.

Just as I began to really get into it, my butt started vibrating, making me yelp loudly. I pulled the phone from my pocket and arched a brow. 
1 new text message from Michael.

Is it tomorrow morning yet? –M

I laughed, shaking my head a little.

Not even close. –G

Sure you didn't mean you wanted to have coffee at midnight? –M

Yes I'm positive, Romeo. I'm very happily watching TV in my sweatpants. –G

I miss watching TV with you. –M

I sighed a little and put my phone down, leaning back and closing my eyes for a second. The more I tried to evade the thought, the more I realized I missed it too. I missed his sense of humor, his subtle touches, and if I was being honest I missed the not-so-subtle touches as well. I wished things could be different; I wish we didn't meet the way we did. Taking a deep breath I quickly typed out my message and hit sent before I could stop myself.

I miss it too. –G

You don't know how happy that just made me. –M

I think I do. Don't look too much into it. I'm going to sleep. See you tomorrow. –G

Sweet dreams, cara mia. –M

I shook my head and sprawled out on the couch, focusing on the television, hoping I wasn't going to regret this later on.

My eyes fluttered open and darted around the room, fully aware of the amount of light pouring in through the windows. 
You really slept on the couch. You have your own, beautiful bedroom—and you slept on the couch. 
I sighed and rubbed my eyes, sitting up slowly. Looking around I caught sight of the clock on the cable box, gasping. It was already 9:15.

"SHIT!" I gasped and shot up, running for the bathroom. After fifteen minutes of abrasive scrubbing to my scalp and skin I got out and wrapped a towel around myself. I made my way to the bedroom and dried off quickly, throwing my towel on the floor after. I pulled on a heather gray pair of boy-shorts and matching bra, and padded over to my closet. After a little consideration I pulled out a black tank top dress that hugged me in all the right places. The material had a soft cotton feel to it and ended at mid-thigh. It was simple, but I knew I looked good in it.

High heels seemed like too much, so I settled for a pair of small black sandals. I didn't have time to do anything with my hair except press as much water out of it as possible. I let it hang down my back, wincing a little when the cold water dripped onto my skin. I applied a quick swipe of lip gloss and mascara and made my way out the door by 9:40.

By the time that I parked in the back of the bakery the clock was just hitting 9:50, causing a little smile to highlight my features. 
Not bad
.

I took a deep breath and did my best to calm myself before stepping out of the car and walking to the front of the bakery. The second I could see the front door I could see him. He was standing there, his eyes scanning every direction while he clung to a beautiful bouquet of yellow and pink roses. My heart fluttered a little, before my brain stomped it back into place.

I let my eyes slide over him from head to toe—taking in his black Onitsuka tiger sneakers with the white stripe on each, his dark denim jeans, and the black t-shirt that formed to his upper body. His hair was in its usual style, perfect placed and unbelievably attractive. But the second his eyes found mine, his face was all I could focus on. A breath-taking smile appeared on his face, and those alluring green hues trailed up and down my body.

"Hi," he said quietly, holding the flowers out to me.

"They're beautiful, Michael. Thank you," I mumbled shyly, not sure what the hell was happening to me. Is this what we would've been like if nothing ever happened? Tongue-tied and shy?

"They couldn't hold a candle to you." He smiled thoughtfully, motioning towards the door. "Shall we?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to talk anymore. He held the door open and I walked in, heading towards the counter. The bakery was small and quaint, but always smelled delicious. Everything was made fresh every morning, and I had found out that everything left over at night was donated to a homeless shelter down the street. The owners were an older couple, Mr. and Mrs. Aldono, and their younger daughters worked there as well. I had been in there three times a week since my new residency and I was always greeted with a smile.

"Bellissima!" Mrs. Aldono grinned, moving up to the counter.

"Good morning Mrs. Aldono, this is my friend Michael." I gestured towards him.

"How handsome, Gabriella. Is this your boyfriend?" She smiled and winked at me, causing a quiet groan from me.

"I hope to be," Michael supplied quickly, making my eyes widen.

"Ah, well you better be good to this sweet bambina," she scolded him playfully, before moving towards the display case that held all of the baked goods for the morning.

"Can we get two of the cinnamon rolls and two cappuccinos?" I said quietly, hopefully steering the conversation away from its current topic. She nodded and hummed to herself as she began to prepare the order, placing the two rolls on separate plates. As she buzzed around the small kitchen area, preparing the cappuccinos I turned towards Michael, glaring a bit.

"You better watch it," I warned him, crossing my arms over my chest, my hand still clinging to the stems of the roses.

He winked at me and moved up to the counter once Mrs. Aldono came back, thanking her as he handed her a twenty dollar bill. She went to hand him the change after but he simply shook his head and pointed towards the tip jar. She grinned and tossed it in, handing him the cappuccinos.

"I like this one," she smiled at me and disappeared to the back room. I shook my head and took the two rolls, heading towards a cozy table near the windows. I set his down opposite mine and sat across from him, placing my roses down carefully in the window sill.

"Tell me about everything." He smiled and sipped at his drink, watching me intently.

I filled him in on my job, my employer, I talked about my landlord, and finding the loft. He smiled eagerly, asking questions where appropriate. Once I ran out of things to tell him, I took a bite of my roll, eyeing him curiously.

"What about you? What have you been doing?" The question came out more cautiously then I intended but for some reason I secretly hoped he hadn't been doing anything unsavory.

"I've been working on the restaurant. That's actually the other reason I wanted to see you. I wanted to let you know you inspired and motivated me to make that dream come true. I found a beautiful building by the water, and it's going to be opening at the end of the month. I've been teaching the new chefs my parent's recipes, and working on getting a liquor license. But—I was hoping you'd attend the grand opening." He watched me carefully, his hands folded on the table.

"Michael that's... god that's wonderful. I'm so happy for you," I gushed, wondering why I suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to hug him. Is this what I had been waiting for? For him to seem a little more—normal? I reached across the table and grabbed his hand, my thumb sliding over his skin affectionately.

"I wouldn't miss it." I smiled, delighting in the way his eyes lit up.

"But that doesn't mean I'm your date," I reminded him, knowing I wasn't ready for that step yet. He nodded and turned his hand in mine, sliding his fingers through mine.

"I know, but it's a step in the right direction."

And for once, I agreed.