Gabriel’s place was just as grandiose as he was. We first took an elevator towards his penthouse on Fifth Avenue. The space was cultured with full grey & whitish veins Italian marble floors, a living room by the great floor-to-ceiling windows that peered across the beautiful view of Central Park.
His home was beautiful like the man himself. His private space was warm and extravagant, and walls were filled with gorgeous paintings of abstract and landscapes but were never exaggerated. I understood his fascination with the arts. The tension inside me had become palpable. We’ve been together alone for hours, but I was even more nervous now.
“Your house is amazing…” I praised softly, it’s as if being in his home was privileged. This was another glance of Gabriel’s private life.
He pulled me to him and sandwiched me against his arms. “I’ve imagined this moment, Audrey,” he said softly. “I’ve pictured you standing on my floor, and here you are. I can’t wait to have you tonight.”
Oh, how I needed to be held like this. Gabriel had become the man I didn’t expect him to be. He always seemed like a man that was hard to please and demanding, but I didn’t realize he could also be gentle.