“What are you going to America for?” The question was unexpected – and a relief. Though there were many things she wanted to ask him, she didn’t want to make him retrace a traumatic time in his life, nor did she want to dwell on grief. She suspected he’d done more than enough of that.
“Various things.” She cut into the croissant, spreading butter over the soft insides until it melted. “I’m meeting with my book publisher, and a TV producer about a network show.”
His face gave little away, but his eyes probed hers. She turned back to the croissant. “And on New Years Eve, I’m cooking dinner in Times Square for some Hollywood types.” Feeling like that made it sound inconsequential, she shook her head. “It’s a charity even, for a foodbank. I’m really passionate about food – it’s a way of connecting people, bringing them together, but for a lot of people, it’s a matter of survival. The stats on hunger poverty in wealthy countries are truly alarming. All the proceeds from ticket sales go to a foodbank in the area.”
“Impressive.”
She shrugged, self-conscious. “Thanks.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“Cooking?”
“Entertaining.”
Isabella contemplated that. “I guess so.”
She watched as Gabe lathered his croissant in condiments, then preceded him to the table. She sat opposite him, biting into the croissant.
“That’s not convincing,” he said, biting into his own pastry. “Delicious, grazie.” Crumbs fluffed down his front, sticking to his bare chest. She laughed, reaching across, wiping them off with her fingertips.
“Careful, bella,” his voice held a light-hearted warning. “I’m not done wanting you.”
Their eyes met and a silent promise passed between them.
“So what don’t you love about it?”
“Did I say that?”
“Not in so many words but I can tell.”
“Ah, now you’re a mind reader?”
“I’m observant.”
She sipped her coffee, silent while the balm worked its way through her.
“I love cooking,” she said thoughtfully, taking another sip of her coffee. “And I love the YouTube channel, I think.”
“You think?”
She nodded. “No, I definitely love it. It’s just…”
“Go on,” he prompted.
“It’s all the stuff that goes with it.”
“Such as?”
“Being,” she lifted her fingers into air quotes, “Famous,” then poked out her tongue. “I don’t like that. I find being recognised mortifying. And I don’t like being treated differently, like on the way over here I was upgraded to first class by the guy at the check in counter at the airport.”
“You didn’t like flying first class?”
She laughed. “Oh, the flying first class part was lovely, but knowing it’s just because I have a shedload of followers on YouTube less so. I always feel guilty, then a sense of obligation,” she shook her head. “I guess you wouldn’t understand.”
“On the contrary, I’ve never liked attention, and I’ve never liked having doors opened because of who I am. I believe I understand perfectly.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
He lifted his shoulders. “My family’s reputation is…inescapable.”
She considered that. “Why would you want to escape it?”
A look crossed his features then, one of surprise, then uncertainty. “For the same reasons you feel. Anonymity is something we all seek.”
“Not all of us. Have you watched a reality show lately?” She shuddered at the open-door nature of those programs, the way people let cameras into their lives, warts and all.
“You don’t like that kind of fame?”
“I guess I think ‘fame’, if necessary at all, should be merit-based.”
“Is there merit in sharing every detail of your lives with outsiders?”
“I suppose there’s savvy in it, if being rich and famous is a life goal.” She lifted her shoulders.
“And they’re not for you.”
“Being financially independent has always been very important to me. It’s basically why I studied law.”
He lifted a brow, silently prompting her to continue.
“I know that sounds mercenary and I wish I could say there was some greater, noble goal, like world peace or, I don’t know, something lofty like that. But ultimately, I was good at it, and I knew I could get a decent salary once I graduated.”
“That’s nothing to be ashamed of, cara.” He extended a finger, stroking it down one shoulder slowly, so warmth fired through her.
“No,” she agreed quietly, fixing him with a level stare. “When I was a teenager, there were three things I wanted more than anything in the world.”
“And money was one of them?”
“Financial independence,” she nodded. “It’s not as though I set out to make a fortune. I just wanted to know I could buy my own house, a place no one could ever take away from me. Anyone who’s been made to move around a lot knows what that’s like.”
Sympathy shaped his features. “And the second?” His voice was deep and husky, his accent like caramel.
“Family.” She flickered her eyes away from his, surprised to be revealing something she’d never told another soul. There was something about him, and this place high above the rest of the world, isolated by snow, that made this a safe space for secrets. “Most people are lucky enough to be able to take that for granted, but not me. I’ve always been on the outside, looking in. I’ve never had anyone who would – fight for me.” Her voice broke a little and she forced an over-bright smile to her lips. “God, sorry, this is all very maudlin for this time of day. Have some more croissant. I made heaps.”
His eyes narrowed; he continued to stare at her, so her smile dropped and her cheeks grew warm.
“It must have been hard, then, to walk away from your fiancé.”
“It was either that or my business.”
“Mmm, but if the aim of your business was financial independence and he could offer that –,”
She shuddered. “Relying on someone else isn’t true independence,” she pointed out.
“You could have picked up a legal job.”
“You think I made the wrong decision?”
“Hell, no. I think the guy sounds like a bastard and leaving him was very smart.”
She grimaced. “He was just selfish and immature.” She sighed softly. “You’re right though. It was hard to leave him. But the day
