Chapter 8 - NOAH ASKED THE MAFIA BOSS A QUESTION
Gabriel and Harper dated badly at first.
Very badly.
Their first dinner lasted twenty-eight minutes because Gabriel reserved an entire restaurant.
Harper walked in.
Looked around.
“Where is everyone?”
“I wanted privacy.”
“No.”
He blinked.
“No?”
“I’m not having dinner in an empty restaurant surrounded by your security.”
He considered.
Then:
“There’s a diner across the street.”
“Perfect.”
Gabriel Ashford ate meatloaf beneath fluorescent lights.
Noah found this hilarious.
Their second date went better.
Public museum.
No closed rooms.
No bodyguards inside.
Marco waited outside and complained later.
Gabriel ignored him.
Months passed.
Slow.
Harper kept her job at the hotel.
Gabriel never asked her to return as staff.
Good.
That chapter had ended.
One evening Gabriel came to Harper’s apartment for dinner.
Noah opened the door.
“You’re early.”
“I was instructed six-thirty.”
“It’s six-twenty-eight.”
Gabriel checked his watch.
“I can leave.”
Noah stared.
Then burst out laughing.
“Come in.”
After dinner, Harper went downstairs to collect laundry.
Noah and Gabriel remained alone.
Noah looked at him.
“Do you love her?”
Gabriel nearly choked on coffee.
“You’re fourteen.”
“Fifteen.”
“Worse.”
“Answer.”
Gabriel set down the cup.
“Yes.”
Noah’s expression hardened.
“Then what happens when she says no?”
Gabriel understood immediately.
“I stop.”
“What if you think she’s wrong?”
“I can tell her.”
“What if she still says no?”
“I stop.”
“What if she leaves you?”
That question was harder.
Gabriel looked toward the door.
“Then she leaves.”
Noah stared.
“Really?”
“Noah.”
Gabriel leaned forward.
“I have spent most of my adult life believing that losing control was the same thing as losing.”
“It isn’t.”
“What is?”
“Making someone stay because they’re afraid.”
Noah was quiet.
Then:
“If you hurt her…”
Gabriel almost smiled.
“You’ll what?”
“I’ll tell Mrs. Morrison.”
Gabriel’s face changed.
“That is a credible threat.”
Noah laughed.
When Harper returned, both men looked suspiciously innocent.
She knew better.
A year after Derek’s conviction, Gabriel asked Harper to move in.
She said no.
His face fell.
Then he nodded.
“Okay.”
Three months later, she asked him to help her find a larger apartment because Noah needed more space.
Gabriel sent three listings.
Not one belonged to him.
Good.
Six months after that, Harper changed her mind.
Not about his mansion.
She would never live in the house where she had once cleaned blood from marble.
Too much history.
Gabriel understood.
He sold Beacon Hill.
Not for her.
He had wanted less fortress anyway.
He bought a smaller brownstone under his own name.
Harper kept her apartment.
They spent nights together when they chose.
No merging by accident.
No dependency disguised as romance.
Eventually, Gabriel proposed.
Not in a restaurant.
Not surrounded by armed men.
In Harper’s kitchen while Noah complained about calculus upstairs.
Gabriel held out a ring.
Then said:
“You can say no.”
Harper stared.
“That is your proposal?”
“I had a speech.”
“Where?”
“In my pocket.”
“Keep it there.”
He laughed.
Then:
“Harper Reed, will you marry me?”
She looked at him.
The man who had once said nobody touched what belonged in his house.
Now asking.
Not claiming.
“Yes.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
Relief.
Then Noah shouted from upstairs:
“DID SHE SAY YES?”
Harper yelled:
“Mind your business!”
“THAT MEANS YES!”
May you like
Gabriel laughed.
Home had never sounded like that before.
