"So I guess you don't want this?" He reached for his discarded jeans and tugged something from the back pocket.
"Ooh." I took the knife. It was about three inches long, black and stainless steel.
"Want?" he said.
"Want very much."
He pushed a button on top. An LED light turned on. "I'd get shit for adding that to mine, but I figured you could use it for those treks through moonlit alleys. Or for stabbing someone in the dark."
"It's perfect." I kissed him. "Thank you."
"Thank you, for making gift-giving very easy for me. I'm much better at choosing weapons than candy and flowers."
I flicked the blade out. "Sex, a switchblade, and motorcycle lessons. You really are making sure my night ends on a high note."
"I am. Now, let's get dressed and get you riding."
FORTRESS
Gabriel stared out across the night city, lights glinting off the river as a barge made its way toward the harbor. He'd bought the condo for this view. There were taller buildings, but none in his line of sight, and he could stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling window and imagine he was alone in the silence and the darkness. Alone and safe.
In college, a fellow student's father owned a condo three floors up in this building. They came by once, and Gabriel had stood in front of that window and thought, "This is what I want." A goal. One he'd realized sooner than expected, pouncing on a foreclosure in the real estate crash. So he got his condo and he got his view, and any other night he'd have stood here sipping a cup of Rose's tea and feeling very pleased with himself.
Tonight, he saw that glass barrier clearly, his reflection in it, standing here, the empty apartment behind him.
He'd started thinking about bringing Olivia here a few weeks ago, when they'd taken a skyscraper escalator and Olivia had practically pressed her nose against the glass to enjoy the view, clearly captivated. He'd imagined what she'd think of the one from his apartment. Not that he'd had any intention of showing it to her. No one came in his apartment. No one.
Olivia had said something about it being the cleaning lady's day off. In law school, his classmates said the first thing they'd do with a decent paycheck was hire a housekeeping service. Gabriel hadn't. He never would. He was accustomed to looking after himself. More important, he could not abide the thought of a stranger in his apartment every week. Service people were bad enough.
But as the weeks went by, he kept noticing Olivia admiring a view or standing near a window, and he'd started wanting to bring her here. He hadn't intended for that day to be tonight. He could blame the wine, but really, he'd been happy for the excuse. It would have been the perfect end to a very good day.
The day hadn't started so well, with the arrival of James's package. Yet what could have ruined it did exactly the opposite. He'd watched Olivia push the file aside, utterly uninterested. That's when he decided to take a step he would once have considered as implausible as asking someone up to his apartment. He'd sorted those piles and waited for a reaction that never came. She didn't care. He'd given her enough to ruin him, and she'd only processed the information and set it aside.
That was the point at which he realized he could invite her up to his apartment. On the drive, he'd imagined what it would be like. He'd pictured her at the window, drink in hand, then curled up on his sofa, talking with him into the night, forgetting that she'd had plans to see Ricky. She hadn't admitted she did, but he'd noticed her surreptitiously texting. Telling Ricky she wouldn't make it right after work. Then that she wouldn't make it for dinner. That she might not make it at all.
That had pleased him more than it should. Not for the obvious reasons. He was very good at distancing himself from those feelings, and having resolved to do so with Olivia, he dispelled any stray thoughts with the reminder that he'd lose her if he went there. So he wouldn't.
As for her relationship with Ricky . . . it felt like a betrayal. It wasn't, of course. But he'd spent so much time with Olivia, they'd shared so much, that the thought that she'd been involved with Ricky, and he'd never realized it, had been . . . unsettling.
At least Ricky had no problem with Gabriel's relationship with Olivia. Gabriel could be insulted that Ricky didn't see him as a threat, but Ricky was right--if Olivia wanted to be with someone else, she would be.
He liked Ricky. He trusted him to treat Olivia well. He trusted him to make her happy. Which made the whole situation very uncomfortable.
But tonight, it had been fine. Olivia had been coming back to his apartment, and then . . .
And then.
Again, he could blame the wine. It wore off, and he'd lost his nerve. Again, that was more excuse than truth. As they'd neared his apartment, he'd realized how big a chance he was taking. How he could ruin what they had. And for what? She'd been fine with not visiting his place.
If he couldn't leave well enough alone, why hadn't he just gone through with it?
He walked into the bathroom and looked around, seeing nothing that would pique Olivia's curiosity. Everything a guest could need was within sight: towels, soap, even extra toilet paper. She wouldn't have snooped. Even if she did . . . He opened the bathroom linen closet and saw towels and backup supplies. Nothing out of the ordinary--unless she pulled out the extra towels and looked behind them. And then . . .
Coke. Stacks of it.
Not cocaine, of course. Just cans of soda. If she did see that, she'd only tease that he must have found a really good sale or that it was his emergency caffeine for late nights.
And the rest?