“It isn’t,” he agreed, getting down too and taking my hand. I pulled away. He glanced over his shoulders. “You’re in unchartered territory, don’t fight me too much…”
“This is Chicago,” I stepped into his face. “It’s not unchartered. It’s my territory.”
“Yes, love, can we go now?” he asked, waving his hand towards the elevators.
I didn’t say anything, stepping into the elevator. He followed me inside. “Also, just because I’m not fighting you on that nickname doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”
“Tell me what you’d like me to call you and I’ll say that instead,” he said as he texted on his phone. “Love.”
“Dona,” The moment I said it and saw his grin, I regretted saying anything.
“Dona is something only family calls you, correct?”
I walked right into that one, I thought. Wow, I mused, stepping into the beautiful Egyptian lobby. The walls were covered with hieroglyphs all the way to the top. The ceiling was a point, where light came down right over the fountain which spurted water upward and back down like an umbrella.
“The final numbers, Sir,” a woman with tan skin, long brown hair, and big hazel puppy-dog eyes said as she handed Gabriel an envelope. When he took it and checked the contents, her eyes shifted to me. But when I looked back, she quickly looked away again.
“They’re wrong,” Gabriel said to her and she froze before leaning in.
“Everything looks fine to me—”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s just a mix up at the bank. We were planning on going later, but…”
“I can go. What’s the matter?”
“It’s fine.” He smiled at her and reached into his pocket, pulling out a list. “Can you help get all of these for me instead?”
“Of course,” she said, frowning as she read.
I couldn’t help but be curious. However, before I could see, Gabriel took my arm and linked it with his, walking me out the front doors.
“I have many questions,” I said as I noticed the staff and security nod to him as we exited onto the street.
“Then ask,” he said, putting his phone back in his pocket before looking over to me. He grabbed my hand as we started walking.
“Do you own this hotel?”
“No, but I know the person who does,” he replied.
“So, this person just trusts you to handle the management of it?”
He shook his head again. “They don’t trust me, but I don’t make it easy for them, either.”
His mouth was moving; I knew he was answering my questions but it didn’t feel like I was getting anywhere.
“Okay,” I paused right outside a bakery, the line of which was annoyingly long. “What’s your connection to the hotel? Why do you—”
He stuck a piece of cake he’d stolen from the vender outside between my lips, before licking his fingers. “On second thought, why don’t you just observe, and when it’s all over I’ll explain?”
Licking the frosting off my lips, I glared at him, but he didn’t even have the decency to look back. Instead he placed a hundred dollars into the tip jar of the vender before taking my hand again. When I tried to pull away, he held on even tighter.
“It’s a beautiful city,” he said, looking at the skyscrapers. “In an industrialist type of way.”
When I looked up at the buildings, I couldn’t help but think of my father. “Of course, it’s beautiful. It was built by us… From digging for potatoes to sitting on clouds. Under smoke, with dust in all our mouths, raging winds trying to lift us from the ground, and the terrible burden of destiny on our shoulders; we built this mighty, chaotic, passionate, vicious, and unforgiving wonder of the world. So, when we say I am from Chicago, the rest of the world knows you are a fighter.”
Blinking rapidly, I looked over to him to find him staring at me, but the look in his gray eyes was odd. He looked sad…and worried. “That’s what my father used to declare proudly until my mother let him know many Italian immigrants helped… Why am I telling you this?”
The question was more to myself than him, but he answered with a soft smile. “I’m not sure, but I’m enjoying it. Tell me more once we’re done here.”