Chapter 6 - An Unlikely Sanctuary
Back at the estate, the heavy oak doors of the study creaked open at 2:00 AM.
Gabriel walked in, his suit jacket removed, his tie loosened, and a faint smear of gunpowder smudge on his collar. He looked tired, the raw adrenaline of the night finally giving way to a heavy, crushing exhaustion.
He poured himself a glass of bourbon, but before he could take a sip, a soft knock came from the door.
"Enter," Gabriel commanded, his voice raspy.
The door pushed open to reveal Penelope. She had changed out of her apron into a borrowed oversized cotton sweater and leggings that Marcus’s logistic team had provided. Her curly hair was loose, tumbling in soft waves around her shoulders. She looked smaller, softer, and entirely out of place in the dark, intimidating office.
"I couldn't sleep," Penelope admitted softly, hugging her arms across her chest. "I saw the security helicopters landing. I wanted to make sure... well, that you didn't get yourself killed."
Gabriel stared at her, a slow, genuine smile breaking across his weary face—a rare, unguarded expression that made him look less like a mob boss and more like a man.
"You were worried about me, Miss Hayes?" Gabriel teased gently, leaning against his desk.
"Don't flatter yourself," Penelope retorted, though her cheeks flushed pink. "I was worried that if you died, nobody would sign my release papers, and I’d be trapped in this gilded cage forever with your stoic bodyguard."
Gabriel chuckled, setting his glass down. He gestured to the leather chair opposite him. "Come sit down, Penelope."
It was the first time he had used her first name. The sound of it sent a strange, warm flutter through her chest.
She walked over and hesitantly sat down in the chair. "Is it over? Is Sterling gone?"
"Sterling has retreated back to Europe with his tail tucked between his legs," Gabriel said, his voice reassuringly calm. "The city is secure. Your shop in Brooklyn is safe—my men checked on it two hours ago; not a single flower was disturbed."
Penelope let out a long, shuddering breath of pure relief, closing her eyes as the immense weight of the past forty-eight hours finally lifted from her shoulders. "Thank God. I thought I was going to lose everything."
Gabriel watched her closely, noticing the subtle grace in her movements, the raw, unfiltered honesty that radiated from her. In a world full of liars like Vivienne Laurent—people who wore designer masks and sold their souls for power—Penelope Hayes was entirely, beautifully real.
"You saved my life, Penelope," Gabriel said quietly, his voice dropping an octave, carrying a heavy sincerity that made her heart skip a beat. "And you didn't ask for a dime. In my world, that makes you the most dangerous, and the most valuable, person in the room."
Penelope looked up, meeting his intense slate-gray gaze. The air in the room suddenly felt very thick, charged with an undeniable, electric tension.
"What happens now, Mr. Santoro?" she whispered.
Gabriel walked slowly around the desk, stopping just inches from her chair. He reached out, his large, warm hand gently brushing a stray curl away from her cheek. His touch sent a shiver straight down her spine.
"Now," Gabriel murmured, a dark, playful glint in his eyes, "you let me take you out on a real date. No wedding chaos, no hidden cameras, and definitely no assassins."
May you like
Penelope’s breath caught. The plus-size Brooklyn florist and the most feared syndicate boss on the East Coast. It was the most absurd, impossible romance in the world.
And yet, looking into his eyes, she realized she didn't want to run away at all.
