When fire meets ice

by CruelTruths8

Summary:

After a failed assassination attempt, Gabriel Agreste is forced to seek protection. To ensure his safety, he hires a specialized team of professionals whose sole priority is to keep him alive.

Among them is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, she is professional, tough and seemingly immune to any emotion. He, on the other hand, does not make things easy. His arrogance and attitude constantly clash with her coldness, making coexistence anything but easy.

A secret romance blossoms where it shouldn't, further complicating an already life-and-death job.

Chapter 1: Attack.

The black car pulled up in front of the majestic corporate building, camera flashes flashed through the windows as the driver opened the back door.

Gabriel Agreste, the acclaimed fashion designer, emerged with his usual imposing bearing. At his side, his efficient assistant, Nathalie Sancoeur wasted no time in listing the day's busy schedule.  

"Meeting with investors at ten, interviews at twelve, and at three, the contract signing" She recited, holding her tablet with military precision.  

Gabriel nodded, barely listening, his mind already thinking about the ten o'clock meeting. It was then that a noise cut through the air, a dry, piercing crackle, as if a bubble burst.

A gunshot.  

For an instant, time seemed to stand still. The bustle of the street was stifled, as if someone had pressed a mute button. The man blinked, disoriented, as he felt something warm and wet splash against his face.  

He brought his hands to his cheek, and as he looked at them, the blood paralyzed him. His mind searched for answers, but the pain he expected did not come. It was not his.  

He turned, and there was his assistant, slumped beside him.  

"Nathalie!" he stammered, leaning toward her. But before he could react, she grabbed him tightly despite the stabbing pain in her body. 

"Get down!" She gasped, dragging him toward the protection of the car.  

Her movements were erratic; there was something clearly wrong. Gabriel saw the red stain spreading down her arm.  

"You're hurt" He pointed out in panic. 

"Never mind" She replied, her teeth clenched in pain "Wait here. Don't poke your head out."

"But..."

"Do as I say!" 

Fear and confusion clouded the man's thoughts as he clung to the ground beside her. Nathalie held a grimace of pain, she kept looking around, every muscle in her body alert. There was no way of knowing where the shot was coming from, or if there would be more.  

Those seconds felt extremely tense until the building's security team came out to assist them. There was great commotion in the area and it had all happened in mere seconds. 

People were running and screaming, but he heard absolutely nothing, everything was fading away and his only anchor was Nathalie's hand holding him.

 

---

 

The constant buzz of voices surrounded him, like a swarm of bees that he could not shoo away. Gabriel was sitting in one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped and his gaze fixed on the floor. 

He had taken off his own clothes, whose fucking clothes was he wearing? He didn't know, he had to take off his other clothes because Nathalie's blood was on the cloth. The police would use it as evidence, plus it helped to know in which direction the attacker was. 

The policemen were still talking to the side of him, hurried words mingling with the distant beeping of the medical monitors.  

He wasn't listening.  

He didn't want to listen.  

Every word seemed to bounce off an invisible barrier he had erected in his mind. The only person he cared about at that moment was in a room on the other side of the wall, injured. Her assistant. His friend.  

The man closed his eyes, but the image of Nathalie collapsing beside him was still there, sharp, like a photograph burning in his memory. 

The blood. 

There was too much blood. When the paramedics arrived, she was already unconscious, her face pale, her body frail on a stretcher. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her. First it was his wife, taken away by a disease he couldn't stop, and now.... Nathalie?  

Was it his fault?

A pang of fear ran through him, was he a magnet for disaster? A man who condemned the women around him?  

"Mr. Agreste" A male voice cut through his thoughts.  

Gabriel looked up, meeting the stern face of a policeman.  

"We need you to tell us if there's anyone who wants him dead."

He frowned, the question struck him as absurd as it was offensive "I don't know" He replied, irritated "The competition, some cheap copycat, my sister-in-law, what do I know."

The policeman watched him with forced patience "Please, sir, we need you to think. We didn't find the shooter, which means this could happen again. You are in danger."

He clenched his jaw, feeling anger building in his chest "I haven't the slightest idea" He blurted out, eyes fixed on the man in front of him "What the fuck do you want me to tell you?" 

The cop sighed, clearly used to dealing with hostile responses, but frustrated nonetheless.  

"Think about whether anyone has threatened you or if you've noticed anything unusual around you lately."

"I don't talk to anyone who isn't worth my time" He replied with cutting sarcasm "Unusual? No. Of course not" He laughed, but there was no humor in his tone. 

The policeman looked at him with an impassive expression, he closed his notebook and looked at Gabriel with something that looked like weariness.  

"We will investigate the case, Mr. Agreste. But without a suspect or any solid leads, it will be complicated. Most likely there will be a second attempt. My advice is to get good protection, at least until we find the person or persons responsible."

He raised his head, his eyes twinkling with irritation "I don't need protection" He sentenced curtly, like a sheet of paper "I'm not a child to be taken care of".

"It's just a piece of advice, Mr. Agreste, to avoid... some misfortune" The policeman held his gaze, unperturbed.  

Without adding more, the man nodded his head, turned and walked away with the rest of the officers.  

Gabriel followed them with his gaze, his jaw held tense, his thoughts filled with anger. Sure, the police were being useless as usual. Now he would have to spend time and resources to protect himself because they couldn't do their job.  

But those thoughts evaporated as soon as he saw the doctor cross the hallway toward him. The white coat billowed behind the man, and the expression on his face was neutral, yet professional. He jumped to his feet.

"How is he?" he asked before the doctor could say anything.  

The doctor looked at him, with the calm of someone used to dealing with other people's panic.  

"She's fine. Fortunately, the bullet only grazed her arm, but she lost a lot of blood. We've already administered a transfusion, and she will recover. However, her arm will take time to heal."

Gabriel let out a long sigh, as if all the air in his lungs had been holding back since they arrived at the hospital.  

"Thank you..." he murmured "May I see her?". 

"See to it that it's quick. She needs rest."  

He nodded, following the doctor down the hall. Hospitals had always made him uneasy, no matter how modern or spotless they were. There was something about the smell of disinfectant, the antiseptic glow of the lights, that gave him the creeps. Since his wife's death, every visit to one of these places filled him with a deep uneasiness that he could not explain.

The doctor opened a white door and motioned for him to enter. Gabriel thanked him with a slight nod and crossed the threshold.  

The room was small, tidy and almost sterile. The white walls seemed to glow in the cold light from the ceiling. The only sound was the steady beat of the machine monitoring the woman's pulse.  

She was lying down, her pale face was against the pillow, her bandaged arm resting on a white sheet. She seemed calm, despite everything, and for an instant, he felt the weight in his chest lighten a little.  

"Nathalie..." He whispered, moving toward the bed.

Gabriel approached cautiously, taking a seat in the chair next to Nathalie's bed. The woman, though pale and visibly tired, sketched a faint smile. Despite everything, she seemed relieved to see him safe and sound.  

"I know it's a silly question" He began rubbing his hands together nervously "But how are you feeling?". 

Nathalie let out a small laugh, though the gesture cost her some effort "Like I slept badly" She replied, with a light tone that tried to dispel the concern on her boss's face.  

He wanted to laugh too, but the tightness in his chest wouldn't let him "I was so distressed..." He muttered, lowering his gaze to the floor "When I saw you collapse...". 

"I'm fine, whoever tried to do it wasn't such a good shot, did they catch whoever tried to kill you?" 

Gabriel shook his head "No. By the time they figured out where they shot from, the shooter was gone."

"And what will happen if he tries again?" his concern was evident. 

"They say they'll investigate, but they're useless. So much so that they advised me to seek protection on my own" He snorted. 

"You should do that" She sentenced "We don't know who's behind this or why they're doing it. It would be for the best."

"It's silly. I don't want a bunch of guys following me around" The man crossed his arms. 

"I'm always behind you" Nathalie arched an eyebrow, though the move seemed to cost her effort. 

"It's different" He softened his tone "You're my friend. And, frankly, you'd be better than ten bodyguards."

Her smile widened, as much as her weak body would allow. There was something in her eyes that revealed her gratitude, though the concern didn't completely disappear.  

"And thanks to you I'm still alive" He added, leaning a little towards her "I didn't know what to do, and you do."

"You know I have training. It was nothing, but I'd be a lot calmer if you hired protection" She sighed. 

Gabriel let out a groan of resignation, dropping his head back "It'll be horrible for me."

"No more horrible than knowing someone is trying to kill you and I won't be there to stop it" She replied. 

The man understood what she was trying to tell him. That wasn't a simple recommendation; it was a veiled plea, a reflection of how much she cared about him.

"All right. I'll hire bodyguards."

Nathalie closed her eyes, her expression was relaxing more and more, for the first time since he had entered the room.  

"That gives me some peace" She whispered, before letting herself give in to exhaustion.  

Gabriel remained quietly beside her, watching her rest, while his mind was already beginning to work on the next step.

 

---

 

Gabriel was sitting in front of a desk, he rarely used the office he had at home, he spent a lot of time at his company outside and even he felt strange to be there. Although that detail was the least of his worries at that moment. 

His home, a refuge that had always been a symbol of his privacy and control, was invaded by a dozen strangers. Technicians with tools and boxes of wires came and went, placing cameras in strategic corners, installing motion sensors and checking monitors.  

The man ran a hand through his hair, trying to ignore the constant clatter of drills and the murmur of technical conversations, How the hell did Nathalie manage to organize things like this in a matter of seconds? He had spent hours looking for an agency that didn't look suspicious to him, and it had been a nightmare.  

Until his attention was drawn to Renaud, the head bodyguard, who was standing in front of him with a firm stance, hands behind his back. He was a man close to his age, with a lithe, toned physique and a voice that resonated with authority.  

"They are finishing installing the cameras to make the house completely secure" Renaud reported, his tone reminiscent of a military officer.    

"My house was already secure, will they also put cameras in the shower or how is this going?" his tone was infused with sarcasm. 

"Sir, not knowing the reason for the attack, we must cover any possible situation. For now, I advise you not to leave the house" Renaud seemed unfazed by the comment. 

"Stay locked in my own house? This is ridiculous" He crossed his arms in exasperation.

"We need the situation to calm down a bit. It's all been a media flap, and the attacker probably won't do anything while the scandal is still fresh" Renaud tilted his head slightly, keeping his tone professional

"You know I have a job, right?" his voice rose. 

"It's only temporary, sir" Renaud replied without losing his cool "Then you can leave freely, as long as you go with an escort." 

"This is precisely the reason I didn't want protection. I don't want a group of nannies following me around" He protested. 

"Sir, our only goal is to protect you. I know it may be uncomfortable, but it will only be necessary until the attacker is apprehended" Renaud maintained his professional stance.

"And should I ask your permission to leave now as well?" He blurted out through tight lips. 

Renaud let out a slight sigh, as if he was used to dealing with this kind of attitude.  

"More than permission, I'd say it's a recommendation, Mr. Agreste. We don't want your life to be endangered unnecessarily."

Gabriel got up from the seat, he walked to the window with his hands in his pockets. From there he could see more technicians installing electronic fencing around the perimeter of his property. The whole scene seemed surreal to him, as if suddenly his life had become a low-budget action movie.  

"I guess now they'll also want to check my mail or install a bomb detector in my car" He muttered, addressing no one in particular.  

Renaud didn't respond, he simply waited in silence, letting Gabriel process the situation. He had learned, over the years, that some clients needed time to accept the loss of control over their own environment.  

The designer turned to him, frowning "Okay, I'll do what you say, but don't ask me to thank you for this."

"We don't expect thanks, sir. We just want to keep you alive" Renaud replied, with a slight nod.  

His home, his privacy, his life... everything seemed to be under the control of others now. But he had to remind himself what he was doing to put Nathalie's mind at ease, she would be in recovery for a good while, and of course, also stay alive. 

"Good" Renaud continued, after a few seconds of awkward silence "Now I'll introduce you to the team. guys!". 

After the call, four people entered the office, as if they were waiting to be called. Gabriel watched them one by one, trying to assess them as Renaud began to introduce them.  

The first was a burly man, almost a human mountain. His arms looked like logs and his gaze was as hard as granite.  

"This is Leroy. Specialist in physical defense and handling high risk situations" Renaud pointed out. 

The second was a man with a toned physique, more agile than the first, with an energy that almost seemed electric.

"Fernand. Expert in tactics and hand-to-hand combat."

The third was noticeably younger than the others, tall, thin, with a serene expression that almost seemed out of place.  

"Bruno. Our technician and strategist in intelligence."

Finally, a young woman stepped forward. Her build was slender, her stature somewhat short, but her posture was firm, and there was a great bravery in her eyes that contrasted with her appearance.  

"Marinette. Infiltration and fast combat specialist" Renaud announced, with a slight gesture towards her.  

The designer couldn't help but frown. His gaze stopped on Marinette, and for an instant, he couldn't hold back his thoughts, was she part of the team? Compared to the other three, she seemed out of place. As if someone had taken a model out of a catalog and put her there by mistake.  

Renaud noticed his boss's expression, but it was Marinette who spoke first.  

"Do you have a problem with a woman working with you?" she asked full of hostility. 

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, surprised by the speed of her response. He folded his arms and looked at her calmly before answering.  

"You're half as tall as I am. That surprised me, nothing more."

Marinette kept her gaze fixed on him, not backing down a millimeter "And about my question?". 

"A woman saved my life. So no, I don't have a problem."

The young woman seemed to relax a little, though her eyes still analyzed the man with a mixture of distrust and obligation.  

"Then you have nothing to worry about" She blurted out with a slight tone of defiance. 

Renaud broke the silence with a faint smile that was barely visible.  

"Well, they will be looking out for you at all times, Mr. Agreste. Each has a specific role, and they are all the best at what they do."

He looked at the four of them again, allowing his eyes to linger on Marinette a little longer than necessary. Something about her still didn't click in his mind, but he decided not to question it further for now.  

"I hope it's true" He muttered, more to himself than to them.

His cell phone began to vibrate, interrupting the tense atmosphere that still hung in the room. He pulled out the device and looked at the screen. Seeing his son's name, his expression softened, though a trace of worry remained in his eyes.  

"Okay, I need to take this" He announced raising his gaze to Renaud.  

The man nodded with his customary formality "Call us if you need anything, sir."

Giving a slight wave of his hand, Gabriel signaled the bodyguards to stand down. The four of them, along with Renaud, left the room in silence, leaving him alone in the office.  

He walked back to the desk, he dropped into the chair and he accepted the call and he brought the phone to his ear quickly.  

"Father?" his son's voice rang immediately, anxious.  

"I'm here, son."

"Father, are you all right? I just woke up and saw the news..." The concern was evident in his tone.  

The man took a deep breath, seeking to sound calmer than he really felt "I'm fine. Nathalie saved me. But don't worry, she's fine too."

On the other end of the line there was a brief silence, followed by a firm reply.  

"I'm going to Paris right away."

"Don't do that" He replied quickly, his tone making it clear that it wasn't a suggestion "Listen, son, we didn't catch the guy responsible, and we don't know if he'll try again. You'd better stay in New York, where you're safe."

"You tell me that and expect me to be calm?" Adrien's voice rose slightly, evidencing his frustration "I want to see you, and I want to see Nathalie."

Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remain calm as he chose his words "I know, son, but we don't know what the attacker wants. I'd hate to imagine he could come after you too. I'll be much calmer if you stay in New York with Placide.”

His son was silent for a few seconds, processing his father's words "That's why I have to be there. To take care of you" He insisted.  

"I've already hired a bodyguard agency. Nathalie insisted as well. But we'll both be calmer if you stay out of this" He let out a sigh, forcing himself to sound more convincing. 

The silence on the other end of the line lengthened, before his son spoke again, this time as if someone had suggested it was for the best, perhaps Placide was there along with him.  

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself. And that you'll call me every day. I know the schedules are complicated, but I won't be calm if I don't hear your voice."

Gabriel sketched a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes "I promise. I'll call you every day. And don't worry so much, the police are on the case. We'll catch whoever's responsible before you know it."

"You'd better" He murmured, still sounding concerned "Take care of yourself, father."

"I will, son. Stay safe."

When the call ended, the man set the phone down on the desk and leaned back in his chair, letting out a long sigh.

First Nathalie, now his son. Everyone was worried about him, and it only added more weight to the burden he already felt on his shoulders. But he had to stay calm, for their sake.

Gabriel leaned his elbows on the desk and began massaging his temples, trying to relieve the pressure that seemed to tighten his head like a screw.

Everything was completely crazy. 

The day had started out like any other, with meetings on his schedule and projects on the go, but it had turned into a living hell.  

The assassination attempt. His injured assistant. The bodyguards who were now invading his space. All because someone wanted to kill him.  

The thought hit him harder than before. Someone, somewhere, had made the decision to end his life. The thought seemed almost unreal to him, but there it was, stuck like a thorn in his mind.  

Who could it be, and why?

He struggled to find answers, mentally reviewing his life and the people with whom he had had run-ins or conflicts. He didn't consider himself the nicest man in the world; his success and his character didn't always leave the best impression. But to upset someone to the point where they wanted to murder him? He couldn't imagine who could have that kind of hatred for him.  

The idea that someone, unknown and perhaps invisible, was plotting his death was suffocating. The man felt as if the air in the room grew heavier with every thought.  

Nathalie was in the hospital. His son was on another continent. He had no one else with whom to share the anguish that seemed to consume him from within.  

Gabriel looked toward the door through which the bodyguards had exited minutes before. Now, his life was in the hands of a group of strangers. A bunch of men and a young woman who didn't fit in.  

It wasn't that he underestimated Marinette, but there was something about her that puzzled him. Perhaps it was the same thing he had thought when he first saw her: she seemed so fragile, so out of place next to the others, as if she were a delicate work of art surrounded by crude tools.  

And yet she had been assured as fast, agile and lethal. Could he trust that description? Trust her as he trusted Nathalie, who had reacted with a bravery he could never have imagined? He let out a long sigh and leaned back in his chair.  

Everything was out of his control.

His life had changed radically in the blink of an eye. From being a man who enjoyed his solitude, he was now surrounded, almost invaded, by people who claimed to want to protect him. People who, for now, were nothing more than unfamiliar faces.  

The real problem was that he didn't know how to feel about it. His life was literally in their hands, and that made him feel uneasy.

One part of him wanted to resist, to reclaim back the privacy he valued so highly. But another, quieter and perhaps wiser, told him he had no choice if he wanted to stay alive.

 

---

 

The police report arrived late into the night, a document that promised answers but delivered little more than conjecture. Gabriel read it carefully, line by line, but the words there increased his frustration.  

The police had analyzed the scene where the shooter positioned himself, but they found nothing. Not even shell casings. That detail bothered him deeply, what kind of professional was so careful to pick up his shells, but so clumsy as to not calculate the wind?  

According to the report, there had been two shots. The first one wounded Nathalie. The second, due to the chaos and his own state of shock, he didn't even hear it. The only thing that seemed clear was that whoever had pulled the trigger was not a professional.  

Wind.

The man paused on that word, reading it twice more. That was what saved his life. The shooter had not calculated the wind speed and direction, a basic error for any trained sniper.  

There was also the reload time. According to experts, an experienced shooter can reload in fractions of a second. But in this case, the precious seconds the attacker took to set up the second shot were the same seconds Nathalie used to push him out of the line of fire. If not for those mistakes, the attack would have been a success.  

Gabriel dropped the report on the desk, running his hands over his face. Nothing made sense.

An inexperienced shooter wanting to kill him, why, what was motivating him? If he was a hired professional, his execution would have been flawless. But this... This looked like the work of someone desperate, someone driven more by emotion than calculation.  

The rest of the report didn't offer much either. No prints, no cartridges. There were only tire marks on the asphalt, probably from the vehicle in which the attacker fled. But even that was useless; the tires were of the most common type in the city. They could belong to any car.  

Gabriel exhaled, dropping his back against the back of his chair. The report was as unsatisfactory as a bad college essay, full of empty words that barely scratched the surface of the problem.  

The police claimed they would continue to investigate. But how could they if they had nothing? He didn't trust them. He didn't trust anyone, really.

The man looked out his office window. Outside, the world was still spinning, indifferent to his situation. But for him, everything had stopped from the moment he heard that first gunshot. 

And now with so few answers and an invisible threat hanging over his life, he didn't know how much longer he could hold on without losing his cool.   

Gabriel closed the report with a dry snap and set it down on his desk table. He massaged his neck and he stretched slowly, as if he could get rid of the weight of that day with a simple movement. He knew it wouldn't be that easy.  

The day had been a disaster from the first shot. He didn't even make it to the office, and everything turned into a whirlwind of chaos: the hospital, the endless calls, and the wait until his security team declared the house safe. 

But it was too late. Too late. He needed to rest, or at least try. Would he even be able to sleep? 

He had been warned about the possibility of developing psychosis. That he might start to imagine things, sense that the attacker was in every shadow, behind every door. But, for now, he didn't feel that way. That calm was as strange to him as it was unsettling. 

Perhaps the fear would catch up with him later, the moment he closed his eyes.  

Gabriel stood up with a slight groan. His legs were numb from hours of sitting. He walked to the door and opened it, expecting to meet the emptiness of the hallway.  

What he saw took him completely by surprise. Marinette was there.  

She was standing, as if standing guard, her posture relaxed but alert. Gabriel stared at her for a moment, puzzled.  

"Have you been there all this time?" He asked, unable to help the tone of disbelief in his voice.    

"The house is safe, but that doesn't guarantee anything" She replied nonchalantly.

The man didn't know what to say. His first thought was how ridiculous it would be if he had been talking to himself in his office, not realizing that someone was listening to him from the other side of the door. But he let it go.  

"Don't you have a break shift or something?" He asked, crossing his arms.  

"It's my shift" She replied simply "My job is to keep you alive, no matter what time it is." 

Gabriel watched her carefully. There was something disconcerting about her. Her fragile appearance contrasted with the toughness of her attitude.

"Well, I guess I should feel more at ease then" Her tone was more sarcastic than genuine.  

"You should" She assured. 

He shook his head, sighing. The man decided not to argue. He just wanted to get to his room and hopefully find some peace in sleep.    

Gabriel moved down the hallway on his way to his room, trying to ignore the footsteps sounding behind his own. It was unavoidable. Marinette was following him, like an eerie, silent shadow.

"Will you do that thing about following me wherever I go?" He asked without looking back, in a tone that tried to sound casual but showed his discomfort.  

"I must be on the lookout" She replied, without hesitation "Where you go, I'll go."

"Perfect. Now my footsteps will sound double because someone is behind me" He muttered sarcastically, more to himself than to her.  

The echo of footsteps in the hallway reminded him of something he had always thought: the ridiculousness of rich people surrounded by bodyguards. Six-foot mastodons walking around like guard dogs. He had always considered it an absurd display of ostentation, and now, fate was mocking him. 

Only, in his case, it was a young woman barely half his height who followed him like a magnet.

Arriving at her room, he stopped in front of the door. He didn't go in right away; instead, he turned to look at her.  

"You're not coming in, are you?" he asked with a hint of exasperation.  

Marinette ever impassive, shook her head "Only if you need me to or if I think your safety is at risk."

The clarity of her answer reassured him, although he didn't admit it out loud, he didn't want to imagine a scenario where she was at his bedside guarding him.

"Are you really going to stay here all night?" he questioned. 

"My shift ends in a couple of hours" She replied, looking him straight in the eye "Are you uncomfortable being watched by a woman?" 

"I feel uncomfortable with so many people in my house" He admitted "I've always been alone, and now this...". 

"It's only temporary" She assured.  

"What if they never catch the shooter?" He blurted out the question.  

"They will catch him. From the type of attack, we know this is not someone who will stand still" She asserted. 

Gabriel was silent. The young woman's coolness and assurance were disconcerting. To her, this seemed to be simply part of the routine, just another day at work. But to him, his life had been turned upside down.  

That certainty Marinette projected, far from reassuring him, sent a shiver down his spine. It wasn't psychosis, not yet, but terror began to infiltrate, slow and lingering, like a drop falling on stone.  

"I hope you're right" He blurted out as he opened the door to his room "Good night." 

Gabriel closed his bedroom door behind him, with a barely audible sigh. Marinette's comment was still hanging around in the back of his mind. That young woman was undeniably unsettling; her calm voice, stiff posture, and the assurance with which she spoke contrasted so much with her appearance as to be disturbing.  

Inside his room, the man tried to go about his nightly routine, but discomfort followed him like a shadow. He removed his clothes with meticulous movements, taking care not to make noise as he hung up his jacket or laid his shoes carefully by the closet. 

The thought that the young woman was just on the other side of the door paralyzed him. 

When he entered the bathroom, he gently closed the door, turning the knob slowly to avoid any sound. The water from the faucet flowed for just a few seconds as he washed his hands and then his face. Even as he brushed his teeth, he slowed his movements, as if afraid that every sound might pierce the walls and alert her.

Coming out of the bathroom, the man moved with the same stealth, almost as if he were hiding in his own home. Lifting the blankets off the bed, he did so in slow motion, careful not to let the fabric rub too hard. He placed his glasses on the nightstand as if they were pieces of fragile glass, and finally, he lay down.  

But he couldn't relax.  

Gabriel looked up at the ceiling, the darkness barely broken by the tiny light of the lamp in the hallway that filtered under the door. He thought about his life before all this. 

The man had learned to love solitude after becoming a widower. It was a safe space, no interruptions, no judgments, just him and the silence. 

Now, his house was full of strangers; technicians installing cameras, guards roaming hallways and, worst of all, Marinette, that young woman who seemed to have no limits to her professionalism.  

Gabriel sighed deeply, closing his eyes tightly.  

"This is temporary" He said to himself in a barely audible whisper "They'll find the shooter, and everything will go back to normal." 

But the words rang hollow in his mind. The fear of losing his privacy was mixed with the uncertainty of knowing that someone wanted him dead.

The man stirred in bed, settling under the covers. But even with the door closed, Gabriel could feel Marinette's presence on the other side, steady and attentive. 

It was as if his life no longer belonged to him at all, and that idea slowly gnawed at him as he tried to find the sleep that seemed to elude him.

Chapter 2: Neither fire nor ice yields first.

Summary:

Gabriel continues to experience his new life with a protection team, he does not make things easy, especially for Marinette who experiences for the first time, how complicated it is to take care of a man like Gabriel Agreste.

The next day, Gabriel woke up with a tiredness that seemed to have taken root in every fiber of his body. That day he could not go to the office, the investigations were still ongoing and the situation remained tense.  

Until they caught the person responsible, his life would be a disaster.  

The man sighed and got out of bed with somewhat awkward movements due to accumulated fatigue. He headed for the bathroom, where he turned on the faucet to wet his hands and face. The cold water helped to clear his mind a little, although it did not completely dispel his state of restlessness. Afterwards, he looked at his reflection in the mirror for a moment, as if hoping to find some answer.  

The question of what to wear struck him as odd. Usually he would have chosen something formal for work, but today there was no need to worry about that. Gabriel opted for something simple; a shirt and pants. He did everything with extreme care, in silence, conscious of every sound he made, as if the simple noise could alter the tense atmosphere of the house.  

When Gabriel was ready, he approached the door to his room and slowly opened it. As he did so, he found one of the bodyguards prostrate in the hallway. He was a large man, whose presence seemed to take up more space than he physically should. 

He watched him for a moment, trying to remember his name. What was his name? Shit, he couldn't remember.  

Leroy noticing that the man was looking at him, addressed him with a polite greeting "Good morning, sir."

"Good morning" He replied somewhat dryly. 

Without further words, Gabriel started walking towards the dining room. He barely took a few steps, when he noticed the bodyguard following him, keeping a calculated distance. But what irritated him the most was to see him talking on a device, reporting something. 

Is that how it's going to be? They're going to secrete about every place he goes to? How absurd.

The man continued walking, trying to ignore the sound of the man's footsteps following him. Arriving at the dining room, he found the table already set, as usual. 

However, that normality offered no comfort. The simple act of sitting down to breakfast felt different, filled with a sense of surveillance and confinement.

Leroy, still standing at a safe distance, watched him with the same professional expression as before. For a moment, the man wanted to say something, but opted to bite his tongue. Talking wouldn't change anything.

This was his life now, until they caught the damn attacker.

Breakfast was already served. It was one of the many routines of his house: he didn't live with the employees, and they made sure not to cross him. 

Everything was organized so that his meals, toiletries and any other necessities were ready when he required them, without direct contact. A configuration that, although practical, was especially comfortable on work days, where he preferred to maintain maximum concentration and privacy.  

Gabriel sat down at the table, ready for breakfast, when he noticed that Leroy remained beside him, standing motionless, like a statue. 

For a moment, he tried to ignore him, focusing on the food, but the feeling of being watched was inescapable. Leroy seemed ready to intervene at any moment, but for the man, he was just there watching him eat, and that was extremely uncomfortable.  

That was precisely why he preferred to eat alone.

The silence in the room, combined with the constant presence of the bodyguard, made him feel strange, almost guilty. Surely Leroy had spent the whole night guarding his door, and now he was there, probably without having tasted a bite.

But before he could delve into those thoughts, a voice interrupted the moment.  

"You can go get breakfast, I'll keep watch."

The voice belonged to Marinette, the young bodyguard she had met the day before. Marinette approached Leroy with a friendly tone, taking over without hesitation.

Leroy thanked her and turned to Gabriel "Excuse me, sir" He politely took his leave. 

Without further ado, he retreated toward the kitchen. For an instant, Gabriel found it curious to imagine the bodyguards eating breakfast in the kitchen, perfectly organized and synchronized, as if they were part of a well-calibrated clock.

When the man turned his gaze back to the young woman, she was already in position, standing with a professional but relaxed posture. It was strange; the same young woman who had seemed terrifying to him the night before, now had such a calm demeanor that she almost seemed affable.

That unexpected duality surprised him.  

Besides their dark clothing, why were they wearing black? It was a very bland color, that's why he didn't wear it, but they all wore that same black suit, as if they were in a school.

Now, though, he faced a new challenge: eating in front of the young woman. Although he was no longer concerned that she was hungry, it was unsettling to have her watching him while he ate breakfast. 

Still, he tried to ignore her presence, focusing on the food and mentally repeating to himself that he was alone, that there was no reason to feel uncomfortable.

The sound of silverware clattering against the plate was the only noise there, and though Marinette said nothing, her presence still punctuated the atmosphere. As much as he tried to convince himself, the truth was that things had changed, and the privacy he valued so much seemed to have vanished completely. 

Gabriel was almost finished eating with careful movements and impeccable manners, he wiped his lips with his napkin. Then he looked up at the young woman who remained at his side. 

"Who do I need to talk to about going out?" 

"You want to go out now?"

"After a good shower. I can't go out dressed like this" He pointed out.

"Outings have to be planned. You should have warned us earlier" She reproached. 

"I'm warning you now" He retorted. 

The young woman frowned, clearly irritated, and without another word, turned and walked out the door that connected to the kitchen, leaving him alone, Don't they have radios or something to coordinate?

A few seconds later, Marinette returned, this time accompanied by Renaud, who was walking calmly but with a serious expression. 

"Sir, if you wanted to leave, you should have let us know ahead of time. There are protocols to follow" Renaud announced. 

"I'm warning you now" He replied in a dry tone, clearly tired of being constantly reminded of the rules of his new situation.  

"And where do you want to go?" 

"To the hospital" He replied without hesitation.  

"I don't think that's a good idea" Renaud raised an eyebrow, visibly uncomfortable with the idea "If you go to the hospital often, you could be an easy target again".

"The person who saved my life is still there, so I don't care "Gabriel challenged him with a glare. 

At that comment, both Renaud and Marinette remained silent. There was nothing more to discuss. It was obvious that he was not going to change his mind.

"We'll get everything ready. Let us know when it's ready" Renaud blurted out resignedly. 

Then he turned and went back to the kitchen, probably to coordinate the rest of the team. 

Gabriel having already finished breakfast, got up from the table. As he did so, he noticed the young woman's gaze on him. Her blue eyes were watching him with a force that could almost be physically felt. It was as if she was trying to analyze his every move or even melt him with the force of her gaze.  

He averted his eyes, uncomfortably, and began to head to his room to get ready. As he walked, he could hear Marinette's footsteps behind him. 

They were heavy, as if each was laden with the weight of two huge boulders, an absolute contrast to the lightness his physique appeared. 

The constant presence of someone following him was beginning to be exhausting, but he knew he would have to get used to it... at least for now.  

"If you have something to say, say it" He blurted out suddenly, turning his head to the young woman walking behind him.  

"I think he's the first client we've had hire us to protect him and he wants to die" She hissed. 

He let out a short, almost mocking laugh as he kept walking "Do you think I want to die?" 

"He's trying hard to" She replied without hesitation. 

"The pinnacle of someone's fame is when they try to kill you, don't you think?" He commented with a hint of irony in his tone.  

"If he wants to die, why hire us?" She replied with great seriousness.

"To spend my money" He replied casually, turning his head slightly to look at her sideways "I have so much money I don't know what to do with it." 

Marinette remained silent, but the color began to rise in her face. It was evident that the comment had irritated her deeply. Her jaw tensed and she clenched her teeth tightly, as if she was repressing something she wanted to say.  

Gabriel noticing her reaction, let out a slight chuckle, but didn't press further. The young woman remained silent, clearly trying to maintain control, though she seemed about to explode like an erupting volcano.

When the man finally reached her room, he opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him with a soft click. As he crossed the threshold, the smile he had had on his face until then disappeared completely. 

Did she really think that? That he was waiting for death?

For a moment, he pondered the idea. Perhaps there was some truth in it. 

 

---

 

The ride to the hospital was insufferable. They didn't use his car, but theirs, one that he considered dreadful: unstylish, uncomfortable and too generic. Leroy drove, while Renaud was in the passenger seat. 

Gabriel was in the back seat, and next to him, Marinette, who still looked upset, although she tried to keep her composure.  

Arriving at the hospital, he tried to open the door to get out immediately, but Renaud stopped him, placing a firm hand on the back of the seat.  

"We came in this car to throw you off, but you have to be careful. Marinette will go with you and keep us informed. That way we'll know when to leave so we don't leave you exposed, understood?" 

Why was everyone talking to him like he was a child? Gabriel snorted in frustration but nodded, aware that he wasn't going to win that argument. He stepped out of the car without a word, followed closely by the young woman, who seemed to be his shadow. 

The hospital had that clean, heavy atmosphere that all hospitals seemed to share. It was one of the best in the city, though, with impeccable facilities. He had taken it upon himself to make sure Nathalie was there, receiving the best care available.  

The only thing he wasn't happy about was having Marinette so close. He was quick to express his displeasure as they moved toward the entrance.  

"Why did they send you? You told them I want to die and that's why they assigned you?" 

Marinette stopped for a second and turned her head towards him with a grimace of displeasure on her face.  

"No" She replied dryly "Since I keep a low profile, I'm ideal if the attacker tries anything melee. We already saw that he missed from a distance."

"And what will you do if they try something? The same pout you did earlier?" He asked sarcastically, as he pointed his eyes at the expression she had just made.  

"I'm a combat expert. I could take you down without any trouble at all" She pursed her lips again in a sort of involuntary pout.

"That's what you really want, isn't it?" He raised an eyebrow, surprised by the direct answer.

"Is it that obvious?" 

"Completely.” 

He let out a faint smirk "And why don't you?” 

Marinette shrugged slightly, displaying an unexpected calm "It would be unprofessional of me to hit a customer”.

For the first time, he found himself fighting back laughter. It was odd, almost surreal, to hear such a comment coming from her. Marinette seemed too serious, stiff, as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. But this little flash of irony made her, at least for a moment, almost interesting.

They arrived at Nathalie's room, but for obvious reasons, only he entered. Marinette stood outside, in a watchful position, while he carefully opened the door and entered.

Gabriel walked over to her bed and sat in the same spot as the day before. He didn't like the way she began to look at him; as if every time she saw him she sighed inwardly, thankful that he was still alive. He didn't want to say anything about it and opted to start with the obvious.

"How are you feeling today?”

"Better, although I think I'll finally take a vacation from work" She gave him a small smile. 

"No one else deserves a break like you do... although I would have preferred it to be on other terms"

"I think only then I would have accepted" She looked at him curiously "How's it going? And your security team? You did hire one, didn't you?" 

"Of course I did" He replied indignantly "The young lady is right outside and the others are waiting for us in a car. Relax, they're looking out for me."

"Everything all right between you?" 

"The young lady wants to tear my head off, and the boss is trying hard to put up with me."

"Is that all?" She asked in a sarcastic tone.  

"For the moment, yes."

"You fire so many people that I have to take care of, I'm worried that the security team will try to quit."

"I'm trying to be understanding, but they want to lock me in. I've barely been with them for a day, and I can't stand them following me around all the time or having them outside my dorm. It's maddening" He shrugged, like it was no big deal. 

"I feel calmer knowing that" She sighed. 

"Whatever" He leaned back against the armrest of the chair "Did the doctors tell you when you'll be out?" 

"I'll be discharged soon" She replied with a note of relief "I've already notified my family so they can help me".

"Wouldn't you like to stay at my house while you recover?". 

"It's better that way" She denied "If I stay at your house, I'm going to want to work, and I have to think about my recovery." 

Gabriel knew she was right. He knew her too well: even convalescing, she would find a way to involve herself in his routine. He nodded slowly, resigned but understanding.

"Is there any progress?" She asks him. 

He looks at her, trying to remain calm so as not to unsettle her further. He doesn't want her to keep looking at him with that mixture of grief and anxiety, so his response is measured.  

"The police are still investigating. They are certain that it is not someone professional, but everything is still ongoing."

Nathalie frowns, as if something doesn't add up "Do you have any idea who it could be?". 

"I have no idea. I swear I try, but you know how I am. I don't remember anyone who isn't worth it..." He sighs, dropping his back against the back of the chair "Maybe Amelie"

"Really?" 

Gabriel shrugs, raising his hands in a defensive gesture "You know how much she hates me. Felix included."  

"I think, if I were her, I'd hire someone who actually knew what they were doing" That comment sounds scary. 

The man knows she has a point. He can't point fingers at anyone without a solid reason. Yes, Amelie hates him, but they haven't spoken in a while. That leaves him with no suspects, again.  

"So how's Adrien?" She changes the subject. 

"Worried, but I asked him not to come back."  

"I think it was for the best" She nods, approving of his decision "We don't know what the attacker really wants, and him being away reassures us both."

"I have to call him every so often, to let him know I'm okay." 

"It's normal, he's worried" She offers him a small smile that seeks to comfort him "This is all temporary: my recovery, the security, the attack... It will all be over before you know it".

"So they all say" He forces a smile. 

The idea of everything being "temporary" has become a mantra repeated to him over and over again. But he wishes "temporary" meant immediate. For now, he's just thankful his friend is alive and his son is safe. 

"Will you be okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, I just have to get used to it."

"It's not as bad as you think. Just don't be so you."

He let out a small laugh, dry but sincere. It was easy for her to say. She'd known him for a long time and knew how to deal with him, but the others? That was why no one lasted long working with him.

"You can sleep easy." 

"You've already spent too much time here with me. You should go" She knows that if the attacker is still around, this is dangerous. 

"This is the most interesting thing I've done all day. I don't do anything" He complains. 

"Because you should be sheltered" He again feels scolded. 

"Okay. You win, I'll go." 

"Thank you sir."

"Rest up and call me if you need anything" He gets up from the chair, he felt like she was kicking him out. 

"I will. Take care of yourself Gabriel."  

He nods and watches as she looks at him for a moment longer, with an expression he's never seen before. It's almost as if it's the last time she'll ever see him. That look unsettles him, but he says nothing.  

After saying goodbye, Gabriel leaves the room and finds Marinette waiting for him just outside. She watches him with that serious expression that seems permanent on her face.  

They start walking down the hallway towards the hospital exit, while the young woman announces over her communicator. 

"We're heading for the exit. Keep everything ready."  

Gabriel says nothing more, but he can't help but feel that each step takes him further away from the calm he longs for.

The young woman walks beside him, something that surprises him, as she normally prefers to stay behind him, as if her presence will go unnoticed. 

"She's the woman who saved your life, isn't she?" Marinette suddenly asks.

"She is" He states "Do you think it bothers me that you're a woman."

"I didn't like the way she looked at me, all our other clients have looked at me like that." 

"I didn't look at you like that for the doubtful reasons you think." 

"Then why was he looking at me like that?" she asked intrigued. 

"Your partners are big, burly, and dress horrendously. But you... I could put you on to model my summer collection and no one would say no" He replied scathingly. 

The young woman frowns, clearly confused by the comment. She tries to decipher if it was a compliment, a criticism, or just another of his strange ways of expressing himself, is he saying she doesn't fit in with the team? Or that her teammates have bad taste and she doesn't?

As she continues to think about what he meant, they continue to walk towards the exit. She keeps reporting over her communicator how much further they have to go, remaining professional. 

"Why do you work in this? Why does a young woman, out of all possible jobs, choose this one?" he suddenly asks. 

"I like doing this" She answered right away.

"I was hoping for a better lie, but well..." He let out a derisive breath. 

Marinette stops abruptly, forcing him to slow down as well. She stares at him, some annoyance in her eyes.  

"Why do you think I'm lying?" 

"When someone is asked why they do something, they usually tell that they've dreamed of it since they were children, or that they had no other choice, or that they do it simply to make a living. You, on the other hand, chose to say that you like this, but you did it without an ounce of enthusiasm. That's very contradictory."

"That's complete nonsense" She crossed her arms, clearly annoyed. 

"Ever since I was five years old I knew what I wanted to do with my life. No one doubts that because I prove it on a daily basis. You, however, lack passion" He replied with an air of superiority. 

The comment silenced her for a moment. Her jaw tenses, but she doesn't immediately retort. He watches her out of the corner of his eye, satisfied that he has provoked some reaction, though he's not entirely sure what kind.

Marinette walks back with firm steps, and he follows her. Neither says anything, but it is clear that the young woman is very upset. Before, perhaps she was wondering who would want to kill him; now, she is probably thinking about who would not.

They both leave the hospital, where the car is already waiting for them. Without stopping any longer, they both get into the vehicle, and it starts up almost immediately.  

Renaud, from the passenger seat, breaks the silence "It took a while."

"My apologies, I lingered a few seconds in the aisle" Gabriel is the one who replies. 

The comment is enough to close the conversation. No one else says anything, although he knows well that it was the young woman who stopped him. He reminds himself of Nathalie's words. 

You have to be more flexible.

The rest of the way passes in absolute silence, uncomfortable, but at the same time necessary. Arriving at the property, it is Leroy who must go downstairs to confirm the entrance. Only when everything is secured, the large gates open slowly, allowing them to enter.  

Gabriel can't help but feel the irony of the situation: returning home, a place that should be a haven, feels like returning to a prison. It's as if he is serving time, and all because someone decided that his life was a target.  

Without saying a word, the man heads straight to his office. Although the place is not the same as his usual workspace, he will try to focus. He notices that it is Bruno who is now following him closely. Marinette seems to have vanished; she probably left to fulfill some other task.  

Bruno entered the office with him, standing in one of the corners like a statue, watchful and unobtrusive. Gabriel stood in front of the lectern and began to work. He sets an alarm to remind himself of something important: he has to call his son.  

The time difference makes it impossible for him to improvise, but he must find the right moment.

He has already reached that part of life when the children are on top of the parents, and it is so horrendous. 

 

---

 

Marinette stands in the vicinity of the garden with a lit cigarette between her fingers. She inhales deeply, letting the smoke ease the weight of the day. That man... 

How could anyone be so hopeless? She had barely been there a day and already she felt the urge to quit. She exhales slowly, watching the smoke drift off into the garden air.  

As she ponders her dilemma, Renaud suddenly appears, interrupting her little escape.  

"Marinette, there you are. I've noticed you tense, is something wrong?". 

"Mr. Agreste is somewhat... difficult to deal with" She looks at him, somewhat irritated, but tries to keep her composure. 

Renaud nods with a small smile that seems to understand too much "I know. It's biting, but remember what we do here." 

The young woman sighs, dropping the cigarette to the ground and stubbing it out with the toe of her boot.  

"Yes, protect him."

The words come out almost like a mantra, but the task feels overwhelming. How do you protect someone so insufferable without losing your patience or, worse, your life in the attempt?  

Renaud pats him on the shoulder before turning back inside "Don't get too lost. There are guards to be kept."

Marinette nods without saying more and watches him walk away. Once she's alone, she pulls out another cigarette, lighting it in one quick motion. She brings the filter to her lips and takes another long puff.  

In her mind, the man's words never stop echoing.

"You lack passion."

What does he know, what right does he have to talk like that? He thinks he knows everything, that he can read people like open books, but he's just another self-important idiot. 

A self-important idiot she has to look out for. 

Marinette watched the cigarette slowly burn away in her hand. She wished the police would suddenly appear with miraculous news: "We've caught the attacker. They don't have to protect him anymore."

But she knows that's about as likely as winning the lottery. She's seen this kind of situation before, and they always end the same way.  

The attacker will come back, she's sure. She'd bet her left hand on it. This time, though, he'll be more cautious and, perhaps, more daring. He missed from a distance, but he won't give up.  

And they will be there to stop him. Though, deep down, she fears that the real challenge is not the attacker, but her client. Will she be able to keep herself from going insane before this is over?  

Marinette takes a final puff on her cigarette, exhaling slowly as her eyes scan the surroundings. Turning her head, her eyes meet another, fixed on her from the office window. It's him.

Gabriel watches her as she holds her cell phone to her ear. His lips move, but she can't hear anything from that distance, what she can clearly see is the gesture he makes with his hand: a sudden movement, as if he were calling a dog to come into the house.

Really? Is he telling her to come in like that?

The young woman feels a wave of anger sweep through her body. He's a complete idiot, she thinks as she puts out her cigarette with a louder stomp than necessary. With no other choice, she heads inside, trying to contain the rage that already threatens to boil over.

As she crosses the lobby with quick steps, Fernand, who is nearby, notices her expression.

"Why are you so upset?" He asks with some curiosity.

"I can't stand him. He's a complete idiot" She barely slows her gait.

"Most of our clients are. That's why they want to kill them" He smiles slightly, as if that's not news. 

"He, anyway, wants to die. Why don't we just let him." 

Fernand shakes his head, amused by the answer "Because it wouldn't be professional. Besides, he's paying, isn't he?". 

The young woman snorts. She had forgotten that little detail: this was all about money. But ever since she had set foot in that house, money seemed to matter less and less, while her constant anger with that man grew exponentially.

Why, why does it affect her so much? But the answer unsettled her more than she would like to admit. Because, deep down, she knew there was some truth to what he had said. 

She wasn't there because this was her greatest ambition or passion. She was good at her job, yes, but it wasn't what got her up eagerly in the mornings.

"Do you want us to change guard?" Fernand breaks her train of thought. 

Marinette looks at him, considering for a moment, but then shakes her head "No, that's okay. I'll go get started." 

Fernand nods, dropping the subject. Marinette makes her way to her stall, jaw clenched. She felt more and more that this customer was going to be her biggest test of patience. But, as always, she forces herself to remember her goal: to keep him alive, no matter how desperate it was.

 

---

 

It was already late afternoon when he saw her come in. Marinette showed up at his office to do the changing of the guard, he still didn't understand how these things worked. 

She said nothing, Marinette stood behind him, near his wife's portrait as if she were a statue, rigid and motionless. He didn't say anything either. He was still apparently working, although in reality he wasn't doing anything that could be called work.  

Without his assistant, he felt lost. The absence of contracts, negotiations and paperwork left him without many options. Gabriel was trying to design, but even that wasn't working. The screen in front of him was filled with formless, directionless strokes and dreadful coloring.  

Suddenly, Gabriel felt a familiar discomfort, a kind of tingling in the back of his neck that made him stop. He turned his head slightly and saw her, the young woman was staring at him. But as soon as he caught her, she looked away abruptly, feigning interest in something else. 

Do they really have to watch him like this? It was irritating. The man turned his eyes back to the monitor in front of him, trying to focus on the design again, but he couldn't. He was not moving forward. The singularity in the environment, along with his lack of inspiration, were blocking him completely.  

Without a word, Gabriel left the lectern and headed for the door. He needed to get out of that office, out of that space that now felt suffocating.  

In the kitchen, the man could breathe a little. It was empty, with no sign of security or service personnel. He needed something to calm down. 

The cold liquid helped him clear his head a little, but not enough. Gabriel felt restless, trapped. Being locked in his own home was a bitter irony he couldn't ignore.

Is this what people call claustrophobia? Maybe it is. That must be it. But, the more he tried not to think about the feeling of confinement, the more that same feeling grew.

Gabriel leaned his elbows on the counter and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain some control. All of this, the security, the constant stares, the attack... it was all starting to wear on him. And it had barely been a day. 

And it was only so far that he noticed; the young woman hadn't followed him. She wasn't behind him like his shadow, as she usually did, had she stayed in his office? She was probably still upset, though he didn't understand why. It wasn't her fault she didn't like her job. He had even tried to greet her earlier, but she just looked at him with annoyance.  

On second thought, maybe it was because of the cigarette. He couldn't allow someone to bring that smell into his house, not just on a whim, but because it brought back memories he'd rather bury. But that didn't justify his attitude. At the end of the day, what did it matter? She didn't care about everyone liking her, much less her.  

Gabriel hurried back to his office. As he opened the door, the first thing he saw was the young woman in front of his monitor, peeking in. 

"What are you doing?" he inquired visibly annoyed "That's private."

Marinette abruptly turned away from the monitor, as if he had caught her doing something improper. 

"Sorry."

The man closed the door behind him and approached her "I understand you need to be here, but don't touch anything."

"I didn't touch anything" She replied, with the same annoyance in her voice.  

"Right..." He replied wryly "Look, I understand that you don't want to be here, but that doesn't mean you should make my life harder."

"I didn't do anything" She seemed offended at his words.  

"I don't want you to touch anything" He repeated making his position clear.  

"I didn't touch your hideous designs." 

He felt something inside him snap. Dreadful designs? What did he think she was talking about? He took a step closer, his gaze fixed on her.  

"Do you know who I am?" He asked laden with controlled anger.  

"No, I live in a cave" She replied sarcastically. 

That was enough to break his patience. Not only was she insulting him, she was taunting him as if this was all a game. He clenched his fists, but took a deep breath.  

"Listen to me well" He hissed 6 "I'm the one paying you. I'm here because they tried to kill me, and you're here because you're supposed to be good at what you do. So do your job and stop trying to sabotage me."

Marinette looked at him unblinkingly, her face still set in defiance, but he noticed something else. Perhaps, deep down, embarrassment. 

"I'm not doing anything!". 

"Then repent of what you said." 

"What I say is true!" She doesn't take it back "Who the fuck combines purple and yellow?". 

Gabriel was about to continue yelling but he stops suddenly. He looks at his drawing. Those two colors stand out the most. Intense, out of tune, violently clashing with each other and ruining the composition. He feels stupid. Sure, that's what wasn't working in his design. How had he not seen it before?  

"How do you know?"   

"Because I went to school" She folded her arms.  

"To art school?" He raised an eyebrow, somewhat incredulously.

"No" She replies sarcastically "I went to kindergarten Color theory? Does that sound familiar?”

Although her response is clearly a taunt, he remains thoughtful. There is something about what she says that doesn't fit. Knowing about basic color theory doesn't explain why she can accurately critique his design. This is something else.  

"What if I switch to brown and gray?" he's testing her. 

"Only if you want it to look somber and lifeless" She replied without hesitation. 

The man was speechless for a moment. Right. Her answer is accurate, and not just anyone would know that. So why is she hiding it? Marinette quickly tries to correct herself, as if realizing she has said too much.  

"But it's your job. Do what you want." 

But Gabriel sees through the lie. It doesn't make sense, and now his curiosity is more than piqued.  

"So, would you mind moving out of the way? You spoil my inspiration." 

The young woman snorts, clearly annoyed, and she moves to the other end of the room, as far away from him as possible without defaulting.  

"Happy now?" She questioned curtly.

He doesn't answer. He simply watches her for a moment before returning to his monitor. But he can no longer concentrate on his drawing. His mind is elsewhere. 

What is that young woman hiding? 

Gabriel really tried to concentrate on his drawing, but his mind wandered, and his eyes inevitably returned to the young woman in the corner of the room. 

There was something intriguing about her, something he couldn't quite figure out. The man didn't understand why she mattered so much to him; he had met many mediocre people who tried to appear more than they were. 

Marinette, however, did not fit into that category. She didn't seem to enjoy her work, but she was agile and precise, qualities he didn't expect in someone who, on the surface, had no passion for what she did.  

As he thought about that, his mind took him back to distant memories; to his wife, to her resistance to living surrounded by security, to her desire for freedom. He had always thought of the guards as an extreme measure, a symbol of a life he never wanted to have. And now, here he was, surrounded by them. 

Fate had a cruel way of playing with things.  

Resigned, Gabriel stopped pretending to work. He turned off the monitor and rose from the lectern. As he did so, Marinette, who was standing almost motionless in her corner, immediately started up behind him. This time, he didn't completely ignore her; he could feel her presence like a shadow.  

He reached the kitchen. His glass of water from earlier was still there. He took it, but this time he didn't pour any more water. Instead, he opened the small cabinet where he kept a selection of liquors. Gabriel chose a bottle of aged whiskey, one he rarely opened, and poured himself a generous amount.  

As he sipped the liquor, he felt a slight calmness, though also an emptiness. It was strange to be there, doing nothing productive. For him, that was unusual. He used to immerse himself in his work, in his designs, in everything that gave meaning to his day. 

Now he was stuck, literally, with no choice but to wait.  

Marinette remained at a safe distance, watching him without intervening. She probably thought it was unprofessional to opine about whiskey in the middle of the afternoon. But the young woman's discomfort did not go unnoticed. 

"Do you know anything about whiskey or do you hate this too?" He turned slightly toward her 

"I know enough not to drink it while I'm working."

"Well, at least you're a pro at it" He let out a dry laugh.  

The young woman didn't respond. She just averted her gaze, making it clear that she had no intention of continuing that conversation.  

He turned his focus back to his glass. 

How much longer would she be here, he wondered. Although, to be honest, he didn't know if he was talking about the whiskey or her. 

Gabriel slid the glass slowly across the marble surface, watching the amber reflection of the whiskey under the kitchen light. 

"What was that you were looking at?" He asked without looking away from his glass.  

"Nothing." 

"I noticed you didn't follow me when I left the office the first time" He turned his head slightly, watching her with a raised eyebrow "You stayed there, didn't you, you won't get scolded for that?" 

"Are you blackmailing me?" she snorted, crossing her arms.

"No. I just want to know what was so important as to leave me totally unprotected, in case someone decided to shoot me in the hallway, for example" He smirked.  

"The mess you were making" She pursed her lips, clearly irritated. 

"So you admit you looked." 

"So what if I did?" She replied in a defiant tone.  

Gabriel took another sip of whiskey, savoring it slowly before speaking "You know more than you're saying, don't you? About what you were seeing, I mean." 

"Is it bad that I know something?" She asked with a hint of defiance in her voice.  

"No, it's not bad. But curious" He rested the glass on the table, turning it slowly between his fingers. 

"Curious why?" She arched an eyebrow.  

"Because you don't seem like someone who knows about design. You're not here for that, and yet you hit the mark" He leaned forward slightly, drilling his eyes into her "You knew my combinations were a disaster. You knew they were wrong." 

"The basics. Colors don't mix well. It's common sense" She lifted her shoulders, as if it was a small thing. 

"No, it isn't. At least not to most. And certainly not to someone who claims to hate her job. So what are you really doing here, Marinette, what are you hiding?"  

"I'm here because it's my job. That's all you need to know." 

"Doesn't seem to be enough for you" He mentioned calmly, taking another sip of his whiskey. 

The conversation between them was interrupted when they heard what sounded like shouting coming from the doorway. He frowned, surprised by the unexpected noise. Before Marinette could ask over her communicator what was going on, Renaud burst into the kitchen with hurried steps.  

"Oh, here you are, sir" Renaud blurted out almost breathlessly.  

"What is it?" He stared at him, setting the glass down on the marble table.  

"There's a woman at the door. She says she wants to see you and she's getting very aggressive" Renaud replied.  

"Did she say who she is?" 

Renaud nodded slowly before replying "She says she's his sister-in-law."

A frustration filled sigh escaped her lips as he ran a hand over his face.  

"Aw, shit..." He muttered to himself "I'll get her."

"Is it safe?" Renaud looked at him doubtfully.  

"It is" He replied.  

Renaud nodded and left the kitchen to coordinate with the security team to let the woman in.  

"Isn't your sister-in-law one of the suspects?" She rambled. 

"She is, but that's why she's here, isn't it?" He turned to her with a wry half-smile. 

They were both silent after that. Marinette didn't know what to do, if she was one of the suspects, why let her in? She couldn't refuse because the kitchen door burst open. 

A woman with blonde hair, eyes reddened with anger and a defiant stance entered the place as if she had an absolute right to be there.  

"Why won't you answer my calls?" She demanded. 

"Why would I answer your calls?" He replied coolly.    

"The police came to my house and asked a lot of questions. They think I want to kill you!" She exclaimed.  

"And don't they?" her tone was full of sarcasm "Isn't that what you said at Colt's funeral?" he arched an eyebrow. 

"It's been two years since that! You think I'd act now? Don't be ridiculous."

"It's not my fault, I was asked who it might be and I remembered your friendly farewell.”

"They're watching me and my son, and I don't want that" She pointed a trembling finger at him. 

"Then don't threaten people next time" He shrugged, maintaining a calmness that made her despair even more.  

"You're obnoxious" She snorted, her face alight with anger "Tell them to leave us alone."

"Do you have something to hide?" 

"I don't know what my sister could see in you, but fortunately she didn't see what you've become!" she shouted.

Gabriel didn't even blink at the comment, he simply raised his hand towards the door "Next time you come, make an appointment with my assistant."

Amelie was clearly furious. Marinette, who had remained on the sidelines up to that point, watched silently, her eyes alternating between the woman and her client.  

"I don't need an appointment to talk to you" She spat "You're unbearable!". 

"And you're predictable, what do you want me to do, call the police and tell them they were wrong? It doesn't work like that." 

"What, you expect me to stand idly by while they investigate every nook and cranny of my life? I have nothing to do with this!". 

"Then there's nothing to worry about, is there?" He questioned full of sarcasm "If you're innocent, they won't find anything."

"This is hell" She put her hands to her head "I can't live like this! And all because of your damn paranoia." 

"Paranoia or not, someone tried to kill me, and your statement two years ago doesn't help much" He replied "If you're not involved, maybe you should focus on proving it instead of yelling at me in my kitchen."

Amelie looked at him as if she was about to pounce on him. Marinette decided to intervene, stepping forward.  

"If you have something to say, make it quick and leave, ma'am" She ordered "Being here only makes things worse for everyone." 

The woman turned to Marinette, studying her for a moment.  

"And who are you, another one of the people crawling after him to clean up his mess?" Marinette didn't flinch. 

"I'm the one who will make sure he doesn't touch a hair on your head while you're here. So I suggest you watch your words." 

Amelie snorted, looking away "This is absurd" She turned to him "Just do something to leave us alone."

"We'll see" He replied noncommittally "Now, if you're done, you can go. Like I said, schedule an appointment next time." 

The woman frowned, her gaze trying to pierce him with noticeable hatred, but she said no more. She turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving behind an awkward silence.  

Marinette stood still, watching him as he reached for his glass of whiskey again. Although she wouldn't admit it, she was beginning to understand why some people found him hard to stand. 

Gabriel seemed completely uninterested in what had just happened. He absently toyed with liquid inside the glass.

"That was dangerous!" She exclaimed, breaking the silence.  

He looked up slowly at her, as if her warning was nothing more than a trivial comment.  

"What good is security if you won't do anything?" he replied calmly. 

"Sir, our job is to protect you, but you must also do your part."

"Do you think she would be able to hurt me?". 

"That I don't know" She hesitated "But will you stop being so reckless?". 

The man looked down at her hand, slowly turning the wedding ring she was wearing. He pulled it off with a deliberate gesture and placed it on the marble table, setting it down in front of the young woman.  

"Did you hear me?" She insisted.  

He ignored her direct question, pointing to the ring with a slight shake of his head.  

"She wants this.”

"A ring?" She arched an eyebrow. 

"Her family's rings" He clarified "She always fought to get it back. If I disappear, the ring automatically goes back to her family, meaning her."

"She could have told us that! We let her in and it could have been serious."

"I wanted to see what it said" He replied taking another sip of whiskey.  

"Is this a game to you?" She pursed her lips, holding back her anger.  

"It would be the most boring game in the world" He replied without even looking at her, his attention was apparently on the glass in his hand.  

"Why didn't you tell that to the police?" 

"Because I don't suspect her" He looked up. 

"Then whose?" 

He took his time answering, as if the words weighed more than he was willing to admit.  

"Of my nephew. Felix." 

"You have a nice family, really" Her words were laced with irony. 

"They're not my family" Her voice was different, harsh and cutting. 

There was something in it that Marinette had not heard before, something deeper than the everyday anger she had witnessed. This time it wasn't surface anger; it was pure fury, something that seemed to burn from deep within him.  

Though he said nothing more, his look said it all; there was a story behind that anger, one she couldn't even imagine.  

"You didn't talk about your nephew to the police, why?". 

Gabriel remains silent for a moment, moving his fingers over the rim of his empty glass, as if sorting through his thoughts.

"There aren't many things I'm afraid of. Felix is an exception."

"You're afraid of a young man?" She frowns, incredulous.

"Do you know who Colt Fathom was?"

"He was a very wealthy American businessman. He died two years ago" She explained.

He looks up at her, the seriousness in his eyes lending weight to his words "Colt Fathom was a despicable person. If you want my opinion, he deserved death. I would have danced on his grave if my sister-in-law hadn't run me off."  

"You are despicable" She blurted out.

Gabriel doesn't seem bothered by the accusation; in fact, he seems almost amused "Maybe. But he was another level. Amelie was happy until he died.  

"It's not very nice what you're saying."

"Defending a dead man?" He looked at her with something of a sneer. 

"I'm not defending anyone. I just think it's unwise to speak ill of someone who's gone" She folded her arms, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

"You're very empathetic. Odd for someone who works protecting... and killing" A slight, almost condescending smile crosses the man's face.  

"I've never killed anyone."

The man raised an eyebrow, as if he didn't quite believe him "Wow. I'm disappointed." 

Marinette gritted her teeth and let out a frustrated growl, knowing he was doing it on purpose to irritate her.  

"Don't worry if you see Amelie around. But if you see Felix... I recommend you be as alert as possible" He warned. 

"What do you mean?" His tone left no room for jest or exaggeration. 

Gabriel stood up, leaving the glass on the table, and started walking toward the kitchen door. Before leaving, he stops and he glanced over his shoulder at her.  

"Felix is more dangerous than any hidden sniper."

She knows who her nephew is, at least by name and face, but she has never heard anything so alarming about him. If the man is so convinced his nephew is a threat, why not mention him to the authorities? 

What the fuck is wrong with this family?

Notes:

I didn't intend to make such a long chapter, but I wanted to leave the most key elements in this chapter, yes there are several things that require explanation, but you will find out.

I don't know if I should classify it as a police drama, mainly because there are no cops as central characters, but if you want, you can look at it that way.

Thanks for the support :)

Chapter 3: Between jokes and appearances.

Summary:

The mystery of the shooter continues, while Gabriel receives another unexpected, though less risky, visit.

Marinette apparently has another way out.

Gabriel was slumped on the couch in his living room, the remote control was in one of his hands and a glass of Whiskey in the other, though the liquor hadn't gone down a sip in the last half hour. His day was starting out so boring.

He was flipping channels without really paying attention. The television didn't help distract him. Reporters kept analyzing his case, presenting far-fetched theories and interviewing experts who seemed more interested in feeding the morbidity than getting closer to the truth.  

"Who would want to kill Gabriel Agreste?" an on-screen analyst kept repeating. He turned off the television with a jolt, frustrated.  

The day before Amelie had dared to go to his house and yell at him, why was she so upset? Surely that was Felix's plan. He had to stop thinking about such things, it only boggled his mind more. 

Fernand, his current bodyguard, stood in the corner of the room, impassive as a statue. Fernand didn't speak unless it was absolutely necessary, and his voice was like listening to a machine. 

Where would the young woman be? He hadn't seen her all morning, could it be that she was avoiding him? Or did he scare her with what he said yesterday? No, he didn't think so, if she was the kind of person that scares fast, she wouldn't work guarding people. 

He couldn't get an idea that was pounding in his head out of his head. She never directly answered his questions about the design, but she knew too much for someone who claimed to have no interest, why hide it, and why was he still making such a big deal out of it?  

As if something was calling her, Marinette entered through the door, checking to make sure they were both inside, she walked in and headed towards where Fernand was standing, they didn't give each other anything, he simply walked out of the place and Marinette stood in her place. 

"Wow, you finally decide to show up" He blurted out. 

"Did you need me, sir?" 

"No, but I'm curious, why didn't you answer my questions yesterday?". 

"Because I don't have to answer you" She rolled her eyes, obviously annoyed that he was back on the subject. 

"So you admit you know more than you're letting on?" He pressed, leaning toward her.  

Marinette snorted, but didn't respond, as if ignoring him would make him stop talking to her, or at least that was the idea. 

"You have talent" He continued "Even if you deny it, it's obvious, why are you here babysitting someone like me instead of doing something more interesting?" 

Marinette didn't answer, but her eyes showed a glint of annoyance, the clients she'd had before were heavy but never this nosy. 

"Why do you care so much?" She questioned in exasperation. 

Gabriel leaned over the table with his glass in his hand, he didn't look away from her as she turned her gaze away, pretending to ignore him.

"I'm trying to be nice, and you're so inattentive" He complained. 

"You're not trying to be nice, you're bored and annoying me as amusement" She replied with disdain. 

The man tilts his head, barely smiling, as if her words were a joke that only he understood.  

"Do you still believe that nonsense?" 

"Yes, like now" She crosses her arms, her frown marking a deep line on her face "I only came to look after you and you won't stop bothering, why?". 

Gabriel seemed to ignore the question, or perhaps he decided to deliberately deflect it. 

"Were you smoking out there?". 

Marinette looks at him, confused by that turn in the conversation. She purses her lips before thinking to answer. 

"And what do you have?" 

Gabriel leans back slightly in his seat, setting the glass on the table "You smoke too much. Do you know how harmful it is?". 

The young woman smiles sarcastically, shaking her head as if she's heard the most absurd thing in the world.  

"Wanna bet which one of us dies first?". 

He merely watches her with a resigned expression, he gives a slight shrug before replying "Kill yourself as slowly as possible, but don't bring that scent into my house. It's disgusting.”

The words have the effect of a thud. 

"It must get boring in here with no one to boss around" She spat.

Gabriel smiles slightly, as if he's just won something in an argument that has no clear rules "I hate this almost as much as you hate this job."

"Stop saying that already!" She raised her voice a little higher than necessary, fed up with the man's insistence.

The echo of her exclamation is muffled when the door bursts open. It is Renaud, who enters with confident steps, attracted by the shouts. His eyes wander between the two, cautiously assessing the situation.  

"What's wrong?" He asked with authority and concern.  

"Nothing serious, sir" Marinette answered as quickly as she could, before it becomes more complicated: 

Renaud doesn't seem entirely convinced. Her gaze rests on the man who has hired them, waiting for an explanation that will clarify what is going on.  

"I want only her to take care of me" He ordered.

The air in the room seems to suddenly become thick. The young woman feels a strange weight in her chest, as if time has stopped just for her. 

"What?" she is unable to hide her disbelief. 

The man takes one more sip of his whiskey before responding with that indifference that so infuriates her.  

"My sister-in-law got aggressive yesterday, and I liked the way the lady defended me. And since my sister-in-law already saw her, she'd better be near me."

Marinette held back the urge to yell at him. It's a strange feeling, a mixture of frustration and that feeling that the man enjoys seeing her like this. In her mind, she imagines herself throwing the glass of whiskey at him, but in reality she just clenches her fists to calm herself down.  

"We have specific guards, so everyone has a task. Moving her would definitely not be very productive" Renaud replied professionally. 

"I have no say in my care?". 

"It's not possible for her to be 24/7 with you, do you want her to be here all the time?" Renaud explained with the patience of someone used to dealing with difficult egos. 

"Don't exaggerate, Renaud. It's just that I've seen her capabilities, and I feel safer with her." 

The young woman raised an eyebrow, somewhere between surprised and offended, Safe? Now she's playing the helpless victim? Since they arrived, the man has made it clear he doesn't give a damn if someone tries to kill him, and now he's taking that vulnerable tone.  

"We'll just change the rotation a little, that's all. Is that what they were yelling about?" he asked. 

Gabriel leaned back in his seat, cocking his head to the side with a sarcastic smile "I don't think the lady likes me, and she doesn't think it's right to be with me anymore."

Renaud turns to Marinette, his gaze inquisitive but without judgment "Is that true?". 

Marinette is irritated by Gabriel's manipulation, she took a moment before she could answer. 

"I don't see why the guards need to be changed. If Monsieur had informed us that his sister-in-law was potentially dangerous, I would hardly have had to intervene."

"Did your sister-in-law actually try to hurt you?" Renaud frowned, turning his attention back to the man.  

"Not as such, she just yelled a little" Gabriel downplayed the matter with a wave of his hand.  

Now, they both look at each other like two small children accusing each other in front of a teacher, causing Renaud to let out a heavy sigh. 

"We won't make any big changes, sir. She too must have breaks, eat and sleep, but we'll see what can be done. And please, if anyone potentially dangerous enters the house, an alert wouldn't go amiss" Renaud requested.

"Okay, an apology" Gabriel nodded casually.  

"Stay with him. It will be a very quiet day" Renaud ordered Marinette.

Marinette nods as her entire body tenses. Her jaw muscles contract, and she can almost hear her own teeth grinding. The thought of spending more time with this man makes her seriously consider giving it all up, but she makes a monumental effort not to explode

"Okay."

Renaud approaches Gabriel, holding a notebook in his hand, ready to get things organized.  

"I want a list of people who might enter the house and their level of alertness."

As they take a few steps away to discuss the details, Marinette can't help but notice the smile on Gabriel's face. It's a mischievous grin, one that clearly, I won.  

The young woman clenches her fists, looking away, how was it possible that this man always managed to get his way and enjoy it so much?

Once he finishes giving Renaud the names, Renaud nods, confident, and leaves the room trusting that they will know how to behave. 

He doesn't seem to notice the heavy aura surrounding the young woman, who remains silent, clearly annoyed. As soon as the door closes behind Renaud and Gabriel returned to his seat, relaxed, as if all the previous exchange had not happened.  

Marinette, however, does not share his calm. She doesn't want Renaud to see her yelling at her client and jeopardize her reputation. So she approaches the man, crossing the room until she is close enough to speak without raising her voice, though her tone oozes irritation.  

"This has been low, even for you" Her tone is full of irritation

"What's that? It's true, I've never seen anyone talk to Amelie like that."  

"You don't give a shit if she attacks you. You said yourself she wouldn't dare anything"

His jaw tenses as he seeks to contain himself 

"We don't know" He shrugs, with a smirk.  

That teasing tone is the last straw. It's clear that he enjoys the situation, that he's having fun at her expense because, in the end, he got what he wanted. Renaud agreed to change the guards a bit, and she was dragged into the middle of his game. It's her punishment for speaking up on the first day, for not going unnoticed like the rest. If she had kept her mouth shut, he wouldn't have laid eyes on her.  

Suddenly, he leans forward a little, and bewildered Marinette instinctively recoils.  

"You do reek of cigarettes" He narrowed his eyes as if analyzing her presence "How much do you smoke?". 

"More than usual since I've been with you."  

"And why do you do it?" 

"Stress" Her answer is curt, as if she wants to close the conversation immediately.  

But he doesn't stop. 

"Do you want to go broke before you're 30?". 

"I crave that" She replies sarcastically. 

He smiles, aware of her sarcasm, but not quite understanding why she seems to have so little regard for herself. He decides to change tactics.  

"Is it because of your job?" 

"Why do you have an obsession with my work?" She becomes even more frustrated and confronts him directly.  

"It's because of your talent. I know you have more than you look. And if I'm right, why hide such an extraordinary gift?" he replies with unnerving calm, 

"You're not right."

Gabriel studies her for a moment, silently. He can see the pride in her words, the reluctance to accept any praise. But he can also sense something else. He is not an amateur who is easily impressed, and she, somehow, has been.  

As he watches her, the man wonders what someone like her is doing in a job like this. Perhaps she is a young woman stuck in the wrong place, as he once was. Or maybe he's just right and she's not ready to admit it.  

Gabriel reluctantly turns his attention back to the television, letting the visibly annoyed young woman linger by his side like a teapot about to go up in smoke. 

The thick atmosphere is broken when Leroy enters the room, interrupting the moment.

"Sir, there's someone at the entrance who wants to see you. He's not on the list, but he insists he can come in"

"Who is it?" He rolled his eyes, annoyed by the constant stream of unexpected visitors.  

"He says it's his friend. Harry Clown." 

"What the fuck is he doing here?" he sighed clearly exasperated "Well, tell him to come in."

Leroy nods and leaves the room without further words. Gabriel waits for his friend with feigned patience. He knows exactly who it is, and his presence is not something he is excited about.  

Moments later, a friendly-looking man with a carefree smile enters the room. His energy is in complete contrast to the energy of the place.  

"Gabi!" he shouted effusively "You're still alive!" Gabriel barely looked up "You have some very temperamental people working for you, they didn't want to let me in."

"I gave a list of people who could get in. I didn't know you were in town."

Harry smiles as if the reproach doesn't affect him in the least "I wasn't, but I came to see you. They tried to kill you, and you didn't even call me."

"There's a big fuss about that" He gestured vaguely towards the television. 

"They tried to kill you!" Harry replied emphatically, as if he couldn't believe Gabriel's indifference.

"Is that why you came? Why did they try to kill me?" He asked without bothering to hide his disdain.

"Could you be less harsh? I came to see my friend" Harry asked. 

"Should I feel good about that?" he let out a dry laugh "They try to kill me, and suddenly everyone is interested in me."

Harry laughs with him, though in a much more relaxed manner, clearly used to Gabriel's toughness. His humor seems bulletproof.  

But then his eyes fall on Marinette, who has been silent throughout the exchange, watching with a neutral expression.  

"Hi. I'm Harry, a pleasure" He greeted enthusiastically.  

"This is Marinette. She's part of the protection team."

"You look less wild than those guys outside" Harry added. 

"She's a hundred times tougher" Gabriel corrected him

Marinette frowned, visibly irritated. Would they realize they were talking about her as if she wasn't present? Their patience is about to wear thin.

 "It doesn't seem so," Harry pointed out.

"Maybe not in strength, but in character..." He throat cleared "I don't think it's very cordial to talk about her while she's watching us."

Marinette finds it hard to understand how it took them so long to figure that out. 

"I'm more at ease knowing you're being taken care of so well" Harry mentioned looking at the young bodyguard. 

"Don't tell me you're worried about me" Gabriel arched an eyebrow in disbelief.  

Harry laughs good-naturedly, as if Gabi had just told him a joke "Always, old friend." 

"I never thought I'd be so happy to see you" His gaze softens barely 

"Why did you almost die without telling me?" Harry adopted a mocking gesture.

"I want you to do me a huge favor" He uttered as if he was saying his last will "I need you to go to the hospital to see Nathalie and make sure she's okay."

"Would you stop being so harsh and do it yourself?" 

"I'd love to, but he security team thinks it's better if I stay here without leaving" He grunted at the memory. 

Harry let out a laugh so loud it reverberated through the room "They locked you in your own house?" 

"Will you do me the favor or not?" 

"Yes, yes, I will. It's the least I can do for you" He continued to laugh as he answered. 

Gabriel doesn't thank him, he simply nods, as Harry tries to regain his composure in laughter. Marinette, who has been watching the exchange can't help but think how unlikely this friendship is, how could someone so energetic be friends with someone so insufferable?

Gradually, Harry's laughter fades, though he still has a smile on his face. He pats Gabriel on the back, as if to shake off the discomfort.  

"So how are you feeling? I heard it was something horrible."

"Someone shooting in the middle of town, can you believe it?" he folded his arms 

"Who did you piss off this time?". 

Gabriel simply shrugged, not bothering to give a concrete answer or even a response. 

"Ay, Gabi..." He shook his head as if he was already used to this kind of situation.  

"Even Marinette wants to kill me."

Harry turned his attention to the young woman, now visibly uncomfortable with the bad accusation. 

"Is it true?" He asked in a theatrical tone.  

"It's not true" She replied irritably

However, Harry burst out laughing once again "Gabi can be a jerk sometimes...or always. You don't have to take it personally."  

Marinette frowned, not entirely sure if the comment was meant to be reassuring or insulting. Meanwhile, Harry sits next to him, with an obvious confidence that speaks of years of companionship.  

The young woman watches them, trying to understand the dynamic between them. It's clear that Gabriel's friend is one of the few people able to put up with his difficult character and even tease him without repercussions. But what puzzles Marinette the most is that Gabriel had never mentioned this man before. 

He didn't even include him on the list of allowed people.  

Marinette lets out an internal sigh as she watches the two men interact. Two days in this house and she already feels like she's working for the most psychotic and bizarre man in town.  

"You really don't know who it was?" Harry put aside all the antics and asked seriously. 

"I have a couple of suspects."

"Felix?" He asked straight to the point.  

Gabriel didn't nod, but he didn't deny it either. The silence of his response is enough to make the young woman, from her position in the room, sharpen her ears. Although she can't see his expressions, she senses how the moment takes another, more dramatic route.

And that is that Marinette knows Felix Fathom, at least in name, who wouldn't? He's young, a prodigy in his field and with a reputation most would envy. But Gabriel's words the night before echo in her mind. 

Everything he said about her nephew and the possibility that he might hurt him doesn't leave her at ease. Now, hearing how even her friend makes the same accusation only confirms that something is wrong.  

Gabriel interrupts her own thoughts, calling out to her as if she were just another servant "Marinette, would you be so kind as to leave us alone for a moment?" 

The young woman pauses, confused by the request "Are you sure?" She asked suspiciously.  

After what happened with Amelie, she is not convinced that Gabriel has the best judgment to handle this kind of situation.  

"I promise it will only take a moment." 

Marinette hesitated, but finally nodded. She had no choice but to obey that order. As she left the room, she decided to stay just outside the door, close enough to react if something happened. Despite his reluctance, she knows her job is to protect him, even if he himself seems to be her biggest threat.

Inside the room, both men watched the young woman leave, and they wait a few seconds, making sure Marinette isn't listening. 

"If Felix was behind this..." Gabriel began, glaring at Harry "He wouldn't have failed."

"Then why are you suspicious of him?"   

"Amelie came in yesterday. She was very upset. She doesn't like the police following her...nor Felix either" He explained. 

"That doesn't prove anything, Gabi."

"No, but I know what they want" Gabriel reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small ring, placing it carefully in a small velvet pouch in his hand. He then does the same with the ring on his hand.  

Harry watches him silently, without interrupting. His actions, until he hands her the bag. 

"I was thinking of doing it myself, but if my suspicions are true, you'd better do it."

Harry took the small bag, now clearly concerned "What is it you want me to do?". 

"Go to the hospital" He spoke slowly, as if he was trying to what his every word would stay in her friend's memory "Give these rings to Nathalie. Tell her to take care of them until this is all over."

Harry blinked, still trying to comprehend the magnitude of what Gabriel was asking of him.  

"Gabi... Are you sure about this?" 

He nodded slowly, as if the decision had cost him more than he admits "It's for the best. I can't trust anyone else to do it."

Harry put the small bag in his pocket, nodding "I'll do it. But this is getting too complicated. Take care of yourself, okay?"

"Don't worry about me" He replied with a barely perceptible smile "There's nothing that can kill me yet." 

Harry let out a soft laugh, bowing his head in agreement, though his eyes reflect a latent concern.

"Start by getting along better with those who are taking care of you, she really looked at you as if she wanted to kill you" He advised "Can't you tolerate those who are trying to take care of you?"

"No, I really can't."  

Harry watched him carefully for a moment. This man, sitting next to him, looks nothing like the man he used to know, at what point did he become so rough, so distant? Although he can't help but be disappointed, he also feels relief that his friend is still alive.  

"And Adrien?" 

"In New York, safe."

"You want me to go see him too?" he joked. 

Gabriel gave him a dirty look, clearly exasperated by the comment. Without another word, Harry stood up, ending the conversation. 

"I'll go see Nathalie and give her the rings" He blurted out "Let me know if you need anything else."

"You'll stay in town?"

"Just a bit" He hesitated

He doesn't mention if it's for Gabriel or some other reason, and neither of them seem willing to delve into it. Harry leaned over to him, patting him on the back by way of farewell.

"Take care of yourself, really."

"Don't I look like I take care of myself enough?" 

Harry flashed a faint smile that's more wistful than cheerful "You don't seem to care."

Gabriel didn't argue. 

"It stopped mattering a long time ago. Thank you." 

Those words are the last thing the two exchange. The sadness in Harry's eyes is evident as he leaves the room. Just outside, Marinette is at her post, as always, gazing intently and intently. Seeing him leave, she greets him with a slight nod.

Harry paused for a moment in front of her "I know you have problems with him."

"Problems? It would be little" She replied without losing her professional posture. 

"I don't know how to apologize for his behavior, but I would really appreciate it if you would take care of him" He asked. 

"It's my job" She replied without showing even a hint of emotion on her face while 

Although his answer doesn't assure her of anything, Gabriel's friend feels a little more at ease leaving him in their hands. Harry gave one last glance toward the closed door, and then he was gone.  

Marinette returned to her position, but she can't help thinking how strange this whole affair is; the seriousness of the encounter, and that shadow of sadness that seems to envelop the man hiding behind his impenetrable character.

 

---

 

Marinette can't believe she spent almost the whole morning with Gabriel, she can't believe that Renaud really listened to her. Yes, he's paying them, but he doesn't know anything about security, why the fuck do they listen to him? And he hasn't done anything interesting since his friend left. 

But suddenly Bruno walked into the room, first he peeked in to check that they were inside, and then he turned to him. 

"I came to fill in for you" She sighed, she really thought she would be left all day with Gabriel. 

"Good luck" She whispered to him and luckily, the man didn't mention anything about her leaving, it would be missing that he would start complaining. 

Leaving the room as if she was released from prison, Marinette runs to the room they use. That's where they have control of the cameras and monitoring, and where the others should be if they are not watching other areas of the house. 

Upon entering, she found Fernand watching the monitors intently, he was alone. 

Marinette looked for a free chair to plop down in. Her legs feeling the accumulated fatigue, and for the first time in hours, she seemed to be able to breathe easy.  

"Where's Renaud?" She asked letting out a long sigh.  

"He went with Leroy to supervise the garden" He answered without looking away from the cameras "It's the perfect spot for someone to try to break into the house."

"Fernand, this job is going to kill me" She leaned her head against the back of the chair.  

"It's a little difficult, just like any wealthy idiot" He mentioned with a mocking, but not malicious tone.  

"But this one takes the cake" She snorted. 

Fernand looks sideways at her, noticing the exhaustion on her face "You should pray the police find the moron who wants to kill him."  

"I don't think I'll wait too long" She shook her head, looking up at the ceiling as if she could find some answer there "I'll go for a smoke" She reached for her pack of cigarettes.  

"So early?" He arched an eyebrow. 

"I should take advantage of having a free moment" She explained as she walked towards the door.  

Fernand barely gives her a nod as she grabs her things and heads outside, wishing the cold air and the smoke from her cigarette would calm her down even a little.  

She starts walking towards the garden, hoping to calm down after all the hustle and bustle of the day. The fresh air seems like medicine for so much stress, but before she gets there she notices Bruno outside Gabriel's office, something that shouldn't be the case. She approached discreetly.  

"Why are you out here?"

"He said he was going to work, but he said it's something private and he doesn't want anyone to see" He replied in a nonchalant tone. 

"That idiot" She mumbled barely audible. 

Marinette doesn't know if he's doing it with full intention, he wants to make sure she didn't have the slightest chance to catch a glimpse of what he was doing. 

"Don't stop keeping an eye out" She reminded Bruno earnestly.

"Sure, don't worry" He replied with a nod before turning his attention back to his surroundings.  

Amidst muttering and cursing, she resumed her walk towards the garden, pulling a cigarette from her pocket, as soon as she reached the outside. The young woman placed the cigar in her mouth, lit it, and the first puff of smoke began to slightly dissipate the tension built up in her body.  

It wasn't long before Renaud, who was not far from her position, approached her. Marinette notices him before he speaks, but doesn't change her posture, continuing her smoking ritual.  

"I lost count of the number of times I've seen you smoke today" He mentioned with disapproval in his voice.  

"It's only been twice." 

"More than twice" He shook his head, his expression making it clear that he doesn't believe her.   

Marinette has no way of denying it, but she doesn't care enough to argue either. 

"I've noticed you more stressed, and certainly, your run-ins with Mr. Agreste are frequent. We've barely been here two days" He pointed out. 

"That doesn't interfere with my work" He frowned but kept his cool.  

"That's not what I mean" He replied a softer, almost fatherly tone "He's a difficult man, and you're bearing the brunt of it."

She thinks about it for a moment before replying "It's not so much so...". 

But Renaud interrupts her, looking directly at her "I wanted to tell you that, if you want to get out of this job, you can. You don't have to be here if you don't want to."

"And what will you tell Monsieur?" She blinked in surprise. 

"Anything. He doesn't control everything."

For a moment, she is relieved. It's easy to forget that Renaud has the power to handle things, even in front of someone like Gabriel Agreste.  

"Would you let me out, sir?" She asked showing a mixture of disbelief and hope.  

"Of course, if that's what you want" He mentioned calmly "Think about it and report back to me. There's paperwork to do."

"I will, sir. Thank you" She smiled almost with relief.

Renaud nodded, giving her one last look before returning with Leroy to continue overseeing the garden. Marinette stood there, cigarette in hand, watching the smoke slowly ascend as her mind begins to turn over that questioning

Should she really leave?

 

---

 

Gabriel barely watches Bruno, who is the one looking after him at the moment. Of all of them, he seems the most bored. He kept him outside but then he told him he should be inside taking care of him, Gabriel hated the feeling of being watched, but he had to agree. 

In the meantime, he checked a few things at work. His offices continue to be on pause while the investigation continues, and he can't do too much.  

Suddenly, Renaud enters his office in the company of another man. He introduces himself as a member of the police who is in charge of the investigation of the case. He is a thin but tall man, light-colored hair and a topknot like a vine. 

"Bruno, would you be so kind as to leave us alone?" Renaud ordered. 

Without arguing, Bruno obeyed and left the office, closing the door behind him, leaving the men alone. 

"Nice to meet you, I'm Nooroo, the person in charge of the investigation" He introduced himself very politely.

"You came just to introduce yourself?" Gabriel blurted out.

"I came to inform you that we have checked and talked to almost all the staff of your company, and so far everyone is clean. Excessive screening on employee arrivals made the task easier, although we are not done yet" Nooroo explained. 

Gabriel listened to him to the end without much enthusiasm, his harsh punctuality policies making the police's job easier. 

"However, we need your authorization to review the files of terminated or resigned employees" Nooroo continued. 

"I don't have access to that. You will have to call Human Resources to get them everything they are requesting. They are already cleared, aren't they?" 

"They're already in the clear" Nooroo confirmed "Maybe a disgruntled employee wanted to settle a score with you. That's why the shooter really isn't an expert."

"You think he's a former employee?" The comment raises an eyebrow 

"It's a possibility" Nooroo neither affirmed nor denied "Killing your boss isn't that uncommon; we've seen cases like this before. But we won't know until we investigate everyone."

"Does that mean I won't be able to go back to work?" Gabriel exhales clearly exasperated. 

"We're not done with all the employees yet. We can't let any of them go. But you'll be able to come back soon enough" He assured.

The discontent is evident on his face. He has given the police a free hand to investigate and find the person responsible, but the lack of results irritates him.   

"Why don't you talk to her about her sister-in-law coming and getting aggressive?" Renaud interjected. 

"Aggressive? Did she try to hurt him?" Nooroo asked. 

"No, not really, she just yelled a little."

"And why didn't you inform us about that?" Nooroo observes him with interest. 

"Do I have to tell you everything that happens to me in one day?" Gabriel replied irritably. 

"Sir, you pointed her out as a possible suspect, so yes, it is necessary" He replied with a very professional tone. 

"She just came to complain to me. She doesn't like that she is being followed, nor her son" He replied resignedly. 

"That's too suspicious, don't you think?" Nooroo frowned. 

"I know I accused her, but I really don't think it was her." 

"Why not?" he insists. 

"She has money from my wife's family and besides her late husband, do you think she would hire any amateurs? If she was really involved, she would have hired the best of the best." 

"There's always a first time to be wrong, isn't there?" Nooroo mused. 

"They have a point, but I still can't see her as someone so careless." 

Despite this, Gabriel doesn't completely dismiss the possibility. Even if it's not her, he knows that Amelie or Felix might try to take advantage if something happens to her. Especially with the rings. He won't let them get that satisfaction.  

"I don't know exactly how the situation went "Renaud interjected "Our other partner, Marinette, was there and she intervened." 

"Would it be possible to talk to her? Perhaps she noticed something that Monsieur did not." 

"We removed her from the guards. She is indisposed, but we can go to her room and talk to her" Renaud confirmed. 

Nooroo stepped forward, ready to move "That would be helpful." 

Indisposed? Gabriel repeated mentally. The idea that Marinette might actually be ill didn't square with his impression of her.

Even an illness would seem to give way to her temper, or could it be that she is so upset that she is making excuses? As much as he would hate to admit it, he expected more professionalism from her.  

Before leaving, the policeman turned to Gabriel "Sir, keep us informed of any situation. And thank you for your time." 

Gabriel nodded slightly, watching as Renaud and Nooroo left the room to go find Marinette.  

He can't help but think that the young woman is avoiding him, and using a vile pretext. Yes, he is hugely disappointed. She was coming on strong, and for some nonsense, he used a pretext that a child would use for not going to school. 

Anyway, he's back to work as normal. 

Gabriel almost wanted to ask him again to stay outside but he didn't, he let him stay there. 

While he watches him, he considers making a comment, an ironic one like the ones he used to make to Marinette. But as soon as he thinks about it, Gabriel decides to keep quiet. 

He won't even try, it's the last thing he thinks before he concentrates on his work again.

 

---

 

Later, it's already evening. Gabriel had just finished dinner and was ready to go to his bedroom, but he makes a quick stop in the kitchen. Leroy, who is taking care of him, follows him closely, as usual. 

They both enter the kitchen, and to their surprise, Marinette is there eating dinner.  

Gabriel watches her carefully. The first thing he notices is that she is not wearing the full uniform they all wear. Instead, the top is a ridiculous pink t-shirt, something he didn't expect to see. But what really surprises him is the color: pink, pink? 

He would have bet she would be wearing dark clothes, leaning towards blue or black. 

And he almost wants to scoff, she looks ridiculous in the uniform and something that doesn't complement the uniform, almost makes him doubt the talent he thinks the young woman has. 

The second thing he notices is that Marinette doesn't look sick at all. Her posture is firm, her countenance calm. There is no trace of the "indisposition" Renaud mentioned. His suspicions are confirmed; she invented everything to avoid it.  

Gabriel walked over to the sink to pour himself a glass of water. Normally he wouldn't do something so simple, but since they watch his bedroom, he doesn't want to be constantly going out for something so trivial.   

"What are you doing here? They said you were very sick." 

Marinette looks up unhurriedly, took a sip of her drink before opening her mouth to answer. 

"Yes, but I was hungry, and I don't have anyone who can bring me food, do you want me to leave?". 

Gabriel tried to read between the lines of the answer, he got a bit of Marinette's humor but at the same time it was as if she was holding back. 

"No, it's fine" He doesn't even know what to say anymore "I just never thought you'd have to resort to those cheap tricks." 

The man blurted this out expecting a reaction from her, a sarcastic comment or some retort. But Marinette didn't respond. She continued to eat in silence, as if his words carried no weight.

Gabriel noticed it instantly. Leroy is present, silently observing, which completely changes the dynamic. Marinette, who is usually scathing and direct when they are alone, seems to be holding back. She is careful not to say anything that could be misinterpreted. 

Why, Gabriel wondered, is it because she gets scolded if she is too free with her comments, or is she simply trying to keep up an appearance in front of her peers? 

Meanwhile, the young woman continues to dine quietly, ignoring him. Leroy doesn't intervene either, remaining on the sidelines, as if he doesn't sense the tension. Gabriel takes a sip of water, still intrigued by the situation.

But he can't run to Leroy simply to have Marinette insult him. That would be childish even for him. 

However, now he is certain that she is lying, and he can't help but wonder why, is she still upset? Perhaps he went too far in specifically asking her to take care of him. But, being honest with himself, there's no turning back now.  

He took a long sip from the glass of water as his mind wanders, then set it down in the sink with a soft clink of glass against metal. He started to leave the kitchen. But before he was completely through the door, he turned slightly toward her.

"See you tomorrow." 

Gabriel braced himself for silence or perhaps a biting comment, but instead he heard an unexpected reply.  

"See you tomorrow, sir."

The phrase puzzles him slightly. It is simple, polite, but coming from Marinette, it is more than he expected. He left the kitchen and Leroy follows him like a faithful sentinel. As the latter closes the door, 

Gabriel, without turning around, managed to hear the faint whisper of the door mechanism closing, a sound that accompanies him as he climbs the stairs to his room.  

Leroy stayed until the door of his room, as Marinette explained to him the first night, none of them can enter with him, his room is still the only space in the whole house that still belongs to him. 

Once inside, he closed the door behind him. The room is lit by a warm yellowish light emanating from the lamp on the bedside table. Everything is exactly as he left it: the bed perfectly made, the place clean and tidy and filled with clean, breathable air. 

Gabriel takes off his jacket and puts it back in his closet, then he heads to the bathroom. He turns on the faucet, which emits a metallic sound as he turns it, letting cold water run and splash lightly into the porcelain sink. 

The cold water against his face wakes him up a little, but not enough to chase away the thoughts that haunt him.  

The man exits the bathroom and opens the closet with a slight sigh. He pulls out a white t-shirt and a pair of soft cloth pants, simple clothes that contrast with the formality he wears during the day. 

After changing, he sat on the edge of the bed. His gaze drifts to the bedside table, where he carefully sets down his glasses and his cell phone. Everything methodical, tidy, just the way he likes it.  

Before going to bed, Gabriel goes to the window and slightly draws the curtains. From there he has a partial view of the garden, dark and silent, interrupted only by the dim light of the street lamps outside.

All seems calm, but someone out there must be lurking, maybe he's out there planning his next move, maybe not. 

Gabriel moved away from the window, he walked over to the bed and lay down. The mattress yielded under his weight, the coolness of the sheets comforting. He looks up at the ceiling, allowing his mind to relax for a moment.

He instinctively moves his fingers to his hand, and runs over the empty space that is in one of them, same where he had his ring on until that morning, he doesn't feel comfortable without the ring, it's as if he is naked. 

But it is something Gabriel has had to do, Amelie and Felix may not have tried to kill him, but they will be the first to jump over his dead body and he must avoid it at all costs. 

Thinking about Felix's face when he realizes the rings mysteriously disappeared is priceless, it makes dying worth it. 

It is his last thought, Gabriel closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away by the accumulated tiredness of the day.

Notes:

I decided to add the slow build tag because it will be something like that at first, there are a lot of things I want to make clear, but there are a lot of tags of which you will see.

In fact, sooner than you think.

Thanks for giving it a try!

Chapter 4: Half-truths are always heavy.

Summary:

Gabriel gets another visit, only this time, the visit shakes the whole house.

Meanwhile, Marinette is sure that Gabriel has information that can help them solve this mystery.

Gabriel woke up outside of his regular schedule. There was no point in getting up so early if he still couldn't go to his office. He decided to stay in bed for a while longer, staring at the ceiling, doing nothing in particular. 

When he finally got up, he got up lazily, shuffling to the bathroom.  

In the bathroom, he used the toilet and then washed his face with cold water. Gabriel watched his reflection in the mirror for a few seconds, noting the dark circles that still marked his face. He didn't shower or bother to change his nightclothes; the day was just beginning, and his motivation to get ready was almost nil.  

When the man opened his bedroom door to head to the dining room, his surprise was immediate; Marinette was there, waiting. For an instant, he felt a twinge of discomfort. He didn't fully understand how the guards were organized, but he hadn't expected to find her at that hour.  

His first reaction was to feel that he looked ridiculous in front of her in his disheveled state, but Marinette made no comment on the matter. Despite that, her silence only increased the strange discomfort he felt.

He started walking toward the dining room, she followed in his footsteps with the same professionalism as always.  

"Feeling better?" He turned his head slightly towards her 

"Yes" She replied with a neutral tone.  

"And what was it that had you indisposed?" He insisted feeling some curiosity about the sudden change.  

"Stress" She answered bluntly.    

"I'm not the first rich idiot you take care of" He let out a slight sarcastic tone "Since your service is far from cheap, am I the only one who gives you stress attacks?" 

The young woman looked at him with an expression that seemed to be torn between patience and annoyance.  

"The other customers weren't that annoying. And if they were, it was in a different way."

"In what way?" he arched an interested eyebrow 

"They thought we were just another servant more than protective equipment, like bringing them food or nonsense." 

He didn't answer right away. For an instant, his mind went blank, processing what he had just heard. Sure, he wasn't used to having servants as a child like everyone else, Gabriel was quite independent, as at the time, he wasn't used to bodyguards.

However, the man didn't plan on making her uncomfortable with comments about his job, though it was hard for him not to think about it. Instead, he chose to remain silent, diverting his attention to the hallway that led them to the dining room.  

When they both arrived, their breakfast was already served on the table, though, as he had suspected, it was probably cold. He didn't care; hunger was not his priority at the moment. Gabriel sat in his usual place, settling in with an almost automatic routine, while Marinette stood off to the side, slightly behind him, in a watchful position.  

As Gabriel picked up the silverware and examined the plate in front of him, he couldn't help but cast one last fleeting glance toward the young woman, wondering what else he might discover if he could get her to lower her defenses a little more.

"If they treat you as an employee, why not work as one of their employees?". 

Marinette looks at him, visibly offended, with a flash of annoyance in her eyes.  

"Do you think I would like to be working for those people?" She replied, clearly indignant.  

Gabriel began to ramble as he chews on a piece of bread, his thoughts swirling around possible reasons.  

"You don't like this job, so I have to assume you're doing it for money, what difference does it make?" 

"I'm not interested in their money, or yours" She replied quickly, trying to remain calm. 

"Then why are you working from this? If money isn't what you're interested in" He decided to insist. 

"Starving to death isn't what I wish to do either." 

That point made him pause. But there was still something that didn't add up in his mind. Marinette was an enigma, one that intrigued him more and more.  

Gabriel continued to eat his breakfast in silence, but his mind was still working. Not on Marinette's monetary situation, but on something else, what makes such a talented young woman lock herself into a job she clearly doesn't like?

"You know, I also did the same thing you did" He blurted out.

"Beat up your boss?" She asked, with a slight sarcastic tone.

For a moment, he doesn't know whether to take that as a warning or a light-hearted comment, but he decides to respond with a slight smile.  

"Getting into a job that wasn't my thing, dedicating myself to that, and pretending I was fine there." 

Marinette watches him with renewed interest. As confusing as Gabriel's way of expressing himself is at times, what he says piques her curiosity.  

"Don't you like being a designer?" 

"I'm not talking about now" He clarifies, somewhat evasively.

The young woman frowns. This man was a challenge to decipher. He rambled, spoke in metaphors, and, at times, blurted out things only he understood.  

"Wasn't he a designer all his life?" She asked, wanting to understand more.

Gabriel denied again, not blurting out a word, focusing on his plate. Marinette, who had already learned to read between the lines with him, decides to press a little harder.  

"And what was that job?" 

The man pauses for a moment. He had talked too much, and now Marinette had asked the question he didn't want to answer. He put down his fork and stood silently, assessing whether he should say something or just change the subject.  

So he does the only thing he knows how to do.  

"You don't tell me why you work in something like this, I won't tell you what I did for a living before I became what I am." 

"I can look it up on Wikipedia" She countered sarcastically.  

Gabriel let out a laugh, but not the kind that's forced to keep up appearances. It's a genuine, deep laugh, the kind he hadn't had in a while.  

"That sure made me laugh, more than Harry's bad jokes" He picked up his cell phone and held it out to Marinette.  

The young woman looked at him in confusion as she takes the device in her hands. 

"Look it up" He challenged with a playful smile on his face.

"Sir..." She tried to protest, but he interrupted her, 

"Look it up. I want you to." 

Marinette hesitated. She had only meant to tease him a little, she hadn't expected him to be so direct and allow her to use his own cell phone to check. But now she couldn't back down. The girl entered the search engine, typed in Gabriel's full name and accessed his website.  

Meanwhile, Gabriel continued to eat his breakfast with a calmness that only increased the pressure on Marinette. 

She began to read. Date of birth, place of origin, weight, height, basic data... but, curiously, that was where the personal information stopped. There was nothing about her parents, a summary of her childhood, not even the schools where she studied. 

All there was was information about his professional career; his achievements, awards, marriage to his late wife, and the mention of his only son. Other than that, nothing else.  

She couldn't believe it. There weren't even any personal photos, something that always appeared in those digital biographies. Those sites are usually filled with images stolen from social networks or even private events, but here there was nothing. It was a surprisingly empty profile.  

The young woman tried to hide her frustration, but the man already knew she wouldn't find what she was looking for. It was a game he had won before he even started.  

Marinette quietly handed the cell phone back to him, trying to keep her composure. He took the phone calmly and set it down on the table without looking. The silence that followed was the best prize he could have received.

"There are no sweeter words than your silence" He commented with a half smile, as he took another sip of his coffee.

After that, Gabriel ate his breakfast with unusual peace, though he reminded himself not to let his guard down with the girl. She had let on too much, something she rarely did, and he couldn't afford any more carelessness. 

Perhaps it was because, in some way, he saw himself reflected in Marinette.

Marinette, for her part, remained silent for the rest of breakfast, something he was grateful for. When he finished, he calmly got up and returned to his room, aware that the young woman was following in his footsteps.  

"Will you still stay and look after me?" He asked as he arrived, without turning to look at her.  

"Unfortunately" She replied, scathing as always.  

Gabriel sketched a small smile before entering her room. He knew Marinette couldn't help but respond that way, but he didn't take it personally. The man closed the door and prepared to shower and change. Today he had something to show her, something he had worked on the day before.  

Marinette watched him disappear behind the door and exhaled deeply, feeling a small sense of relief at having a moment of respite. Although she had not yet made a decision about staying or quitting, the previous day had been spent reflecting. 

The job itself she didn't dislike, but Gabriel was a case apart. Sometimes she wondered if dealing with him was worth it.  

However, she admitted that something about him piqued her curiosity. The way he talked about his past, suggesting he had been someone completely different, the intrigue that aroused... and then there was the lack of information, something that had perplexed her. Gabriel wasn't just strange, he was an enigma, and that made it harder to ignore him.  

It was several minutes before he came out of the room again, this time looking like the Gabriel they all knew, impeccable, neat and with an aura of firmness that seemed impossible to break. His perfume, a distinguished and expensive scent, arrived before him, marking his presence.  

Without a word, the man began to walk toward his office, and Marinette, resigned, followed close behind. She knew exactly where he was going; Gabriel always dressed up for his office, even if no one else would be there. What made her uneasy was that, ever since he had caught her spying on his designs, he wasted no opportunity to tease her with hints.  

When they arrived, he entered first, but as he took a step forward, Marinette ended up bumping into his back.  

"What's wrong?" She asked stepping back a step.  

Before she could get an answer,she noticed someone else was in the office.  

It was Felix Fathom.

Marinette wondered why Bruno had not informed her that Gabriel's nephew was there. Bruno was the one who guarded the entrances to the house, and such a mistake was unacceptable, especially considering what Felix represented, a latent threat. 

But it didn't take her long to realize what was really going on, what if no one else knew Felix was there but them?

Moving quickly, the young woman positioned herself in front of Gabriel to protect him. And she spoke through her communicator, 

"There is an intruder." 

The atmosphere immediately became tense, but Gabriel was the first to speak after she sounded the alert. 

"Just like your mother" He turned to Felix "You don't know how to announce your visits."  

"Who was I supposed to announce myself to, those fools you have all over the house?" He replied with a lopsided grin.

Marinette felt a shiver run down her spine, how was it possible that someone had entered without being seen by the security team? It was the first time she felt real fear on this job. Gabriel didn't seem perturbed.  

Behind the young woman, the sound of hurried footsteps could be heard. It was clear that the other team members were coming to investigate the situation. Marinette did not turn her attention away from Felix, fearing that any movement of his might unleash something unexpected.  

Gabriel held up a hand, stopping the others before they crossed the door "No" He ordered "With me that's enough".

"Sir, I recommend..." Renaud from the hallway tried to intervene. 

"I will attend to my visitor" Gabriel replied "Stay outside" He ordered.

Marinette wondered if that instruction was for her as well, but she knew for sure when Gabriel closed the door, leaving the rest of the team outside.  

Felix was still standing by the lectern, as if he had been patiently waiting for it all this time, how long had he been there without anyone noticing? The girl stood close to the man, not letting the young man out of her sight.  

"To what do I owe your visit, Felix?". 

"I know my mother came and told you something? And you didn't follow through." 

"The police do their job, do you want me to stop the police?" Gabriel arched an eyebrow, his voice laden with irony, 

"You accused us, and that was enough. They won't leave us alone" Felix snorted. 

"And my accusations? Are they unfounded?" his tone was colder. 

"Of course they are. Why would I kill you uncle?" he looked him straight in the eyes, with a mixture of defiance and disdain 

"We both know why" Gabriel didn't blink.

Marinette unmoving, remained alert, making sure not to let her guard down. Every word the two men exchanged seemed to be a key piece in a game she was just beginning to understand.

Felix stepped down from the lectern, and that movement alerted the young woman. She tensed immediately, ready for any eventuality, as he spoke with a crooked smile. 

"Come on, man, we're two men, why don't we put the childishness aside." 

"Well, you should start by stopping barging into my house unannounced. You're not five years old anymore Felix."  

"I had to tell you face to face. Leave us alone, man" Felix's smile wasn't warm or nostalgic; there was something darker about it.  

"It's just an investigation, what are you terrified of, nephew?" Gabriel crossed his arms, giving no ground.  

Felix began to move closer, and Marinette kept her stance firm, ready for any sudden moves.  

"I'm not comfortable with idiots following me around" Felix's tone was laden with contempt "I'm not you."

"You know you only succeed in making yourself look more suspicious, right?" Gabriel didn't look away from his nephew. 

"Dude, you know I didn't do it" He stopped a few steps away from them.  

"So, breaking in and not using the door, what does that mean?" Gabriel didn't flinch, making it clear that he didn't believe his words.

Felix smiled again, this time with a tinge of defiance "I did it as a reminder. To make you think very carefully." 

The sentence hung in the air, full of implications that neither wanted to unpack at that moment. Felix looked at Gabriel and Marinette one last time, his gaze contemptuous, as if they were mere obstacles in his path, mere insects that he would eventually squash.  

Until Felix headed for the door, and before he left, he spoke again. 

"Tell your employees not to touch me. I want to leave quietly."

Gabriel turned his face toward the girl, keeping his composure "You heard him." 

Marinette, without losing control, spoke into her communicator "Mr. Agreste's nephew will stand down. Do not touch him.”

Upon receiving confirmation from the rest of the team, Felix pushed open the door and exited. The bodyguards watched him carefully, but none of them moved, strictly complying with the order. Felix passed between them with his typical air of superiority, as if he dominated the situation.  

As the young man walked down the corridor, a dark satisfaction crossed his face. He had noticed something important, the ring his uncle always wore was not on his hand.

Felix admits that sometimes his uncle uses his brain.

Inside the office everything was in chaos. Renaud was moving from one side to the other, demanding explanations. First he turned to Bruno, the one in charge of guarding the entrance.  

"How is it possible that someone got in without you noticing?" he asked with a frown.  

"Sir, no one came to the door. No one came through for me" Bruno replied noticeably flustered. 

Frustrated, Renaud turned to Fernand, who was in charge of the security cameras.  

"And you, you didn't see anything?". 

"I was watching the cameras the whole time. I didn't see anyone go in" Fernand denied firmly.  

Renaud clenched his fists, noting that even the gardens seemed to be clear on the searches. Leroy, who had just finished his night shift guarding Gabriel's room, had nothing to add.  

That someone managed to evade the entire security system of the house was a total humiliation. His agency was known for being the best, and any failure like this would be a devastating blow to his reputation. 

"We must call the officer to inform him of this" Renaud sentenced visibly annoyed. 

Before he could give any further instructions, Gabriel's voice boomed loudly in the room. 

"Don't you dare!" 

Gabriel's tone was so firm and authoritative that everyone froze. Even Marinette, accustomed to his attitude, couldn't help but be surprised.  

"Sir, Officer Nooroo asked us to report any situation to you. It is our duty to do so" Renaud replied. 

"I already told them no. No one will talk about this, much less with that officer" But Gabriel did not relent.

"Sir, that young man could have been the one who tried to kill you" Renaud tried to insist. 

"You will tell no one! This stays between us. And I warn you, if I find out that you comment on any of this, your agency will end today, understood?" Gabriel exploded. 

The threat left everyone silent. Renaud pursed his lips, clearly annoyed, but didn't dare respond. Fernand and Bruno exchanged uncomfortable glances, while Marinette remained in place, watching with a strange foreboding.

"Now go keep watch like you're supposed to be doing" Gabriel ordered. 

Without waiting for a response, Gabriel stormed out of the office, his usual morning calm was completely gone.  

Marinette watched him leave, and in that moment the words he had said that day took on new meaning. She had thought the man was exaggerating about his nephew, but now she understood that everything he mentioned was true. Nevertheless, she did not allow herself to worry too much about it.  

Without hesitation, she followed Gabriel without asking where he was going. Wherever he went, she would be nearby, ready for whatever might happen.

Gabriel was walking furiously, with footsteps so heavy they sounded all over the hallway. The young woman followed him without a word, keeping a safe distance. 

They reached the kitchen, where he began to search through the drawers, pulling out a bottle of alcohol with sudden movements. The man found a glass and carelessly poured himself awkwardly. The liquid spilled on the table and dripped on his hand, but he paid it no mind.  

Gabriel took a big gulp, and tried to calm himself, but the girl could tell that the alcohol did nothing to quench the fire that burned inside him. His gestures were stiff, tense, as if he was holding back something bigger than his anger. For Marinette, it was like watching a pot about to explode, and she knew that any intervention could make things worse.

Gabriel kept thinking about Felix. The image of his nephew in his office, taunting him, came back to his mind like a fresh wound. He had felt fear, a fear he could not completely hide, even though he tried to pretend otherwise. The young man had entered his house as if he owned the place, humiliating him on his own turf, and it ate him up inside.  

The anger was too much. Gabriel threw the glass full of alcohol into a corner of the kitchen with a violent movement. The glass smashed against the wall and shattered into a thousand pieces, leaving a trail of liquid that scattered across the floor. The young woman took a small step back, keeping her wits about her, but did nothing. She knew it was best to let him process his anger without intervening.  

The man whirled furiously, looking for something else to throw, but stopped short when he noticed the girl's presence. For an instant, his eyes seemed to falter, as if he hadn't seen her until that moment. His anger mingled with embarrassment; he had been exposed before her.  

Gabriel couldn't help thinking that, if Marinette hadn't been there, he wouldn't have had the courage to be alone with Felix. He didn't like to admit it, but the young woman's presence had made him feel a little less vulnerable, although now that feeling was turning into frustration.  

Gabriel went through his motions again. He picked up another glass and poured himself more alcohol, spilling it again on the table. This time, however, he didn't throw it. Instead, he sat down heavily in one of the kitchen chairs. He took a swig from the glass and rested his elbows on the table, rubbing his forehead with his free hand.  

Marinette watched him from her position, motionless, like a patient shadow. She didn't know if she should say something or just leave him alone, but something in her instinct told her that staying close was the right thing to do. The man was lost in thought, he said nothing more.  

But for the first time, Marinette agreed with Gabriel. Felix had not tried to kill him, and that certainty came from the fact that she had seen him in action. What the man had once assured her made sense now, if Felix had wanted to finish him off, he would not have failed. 

The young man had managed to infiltrate the house without a trace, an act that revealed not only skill, but precision and absolute control.  

The young woman could not deny it, she was terrified. She had never seen anyone like Felix. He was a young man who inspired fear not because of his brute strength, but because of his elegance and the air of calculated menace he exuded. That combination of subtlety and danger had chilled her to the bone, something that had never happened to her before. 

In her mind, she replayed the scene over and over again, criticizing herself for not reacting more quickly, but even that seemed futile.  

"Do you have a cigarette?" He asked in a deep voice, snapping Marinette out of her thoughts. 

"I'm not going to smoke" She answered immediately, somewhat confused. 

Gabriel looked at her with a raised eyebrow, his irritation evident "It's for me" He clarified, making it clear that he wasn't in the mood for arguments.  

"I don't think that's right, sir."

"Give me a damn cigarette or you'll have to come with me to get one" He let out an exasperated sigh. 

She knew the worst thing would be to allow him to leave the house in that state, so he reluctantly pulled out his pack and she held it out to him. Gabriel took one without hesitation, and she passed him her lighter. He lit the cigarette and brought it to his mouth. Marinette waited for him to go out into the garden, as he used to insist when she smoked, but he did not.  

The man remained there, in the middle of the kitchen, letting out puffs of smoke as if he didn't care about anything. The girl couldn't help but wonder what had happened to all those warnings and criticisms he used to give her about smoking inside the house. His behavior was not only contradictory, but deeply disturbing.  

"What's with the no smoking inside?" She asked, with genuine curiosity and some disbelief.

"To die by a bullet or by a cigar? What a choice...".

The answer left her speechless. There was something in the way he said it, a mixture of cynicism and resignation, that made her feel a knot in her stomach. Gabriel continued smoking, completely ignoring the disgust that was beginning to invade him. Between the smell of tobacco and the alcohol he continued to drink, Marinette felt nauseous, but did not move from her place.  

For the first time, she didn't have the slightest desire to light up a cigarette. Instead, she stood close to him, keeping a discreet eye on him. The young woman knew she could not prevent him from falling into this kind of self-destructive behavior, but at least she could make sure he did not do worse.

 

---

 

After smoking that one cigarette and finishing his glass of liquor, Gabriel retreated to his room, making it clear that he wanted nothing more to do with the world. His withdrawal marked a turning point in the atmosphere. For the first time, the entire security team gathered in the common room to discuss what had happened, aware that what had just happened was more than serious, it was a direct blow to their reputation as the best.  

Renaud, as head of security, was on the verge of despair. He checked the security cameras again and again, but there was absolutely nothing. No trace, no sign, as if Felix had materialized inside the house. Each time he ran out of answers, his frustration grew, and it came back to the point that seemed to haunt him.  

"It was him. That boy was responsible for the bombing" Renaud asserted. 

"But how, there's no proof. We don't even know how he got in here, much less how he could have prepared something as elaborate as an attack" Bruno raised his voice. 

"It's an act of intimidation, plain and simple. He did it to show us that he can come and go as he pleases" Renaud for his part, he wouldn't budge.

"He didn't do it" Marinette interjected. 

Silence fell over the group. Leroy looked at her, incredulous "How are you so sure?". 

"Because someone who can infiltrate like that doesn't fail an assassination attempt" She declared. 

Fernand, who was always more analytical, nodded "He has a point."

"You were in there, what did they talk about, what makes you think he's not guilty?" Renaud questioned her. 

"They understand each other. Felix asked Mr. Agreste to stop the police from following them, him and his mother" 

"And that doesn't strike you as suspicious?" Renaud asked with an incredulous gesture.  

"Naturally, but I still maintain my position. He didn't go" She didn't hesitate. 

Renaud ran a hand through his hair, clearly overcome by the situation. This kind of problem was far beyond anything he'd ever handled before. They knew how to deal with intruders, with external threats, but this? This was something else.  

Marinette remained silent, reflecting. She had never felt what she felt standing in front of Felix before, a genuine fear, a sense of vulnerability that she couldn't shake. He had not only evaded her security with ease, he had faced them with absolute confidence. Not once had he seemed concerned about the number of experienced people in the house.  

To the young man, they were nothing more than insignificant obstacles. That kind of confidence, that natural arrogance, was not something you saw every day, let alone in someone his age. The young woman shivered slightly at the memory of how she had looked down on them, with contempt, as if they were mere rats she could crush if she wanted to.  

It was frightening, yes, but also fascinating. And, above all, unnerving.

Gabriel's outburst of anger had made it clear that things were out of control. Everyone knew it, though no one was saying it out loud. Yes, Gabriel had his strong character, but that a single visit from her nephew would affect him in such a way was not something she could ignore. There was something deeper there, something they were all trying to decipher without much success.

Marinette thought about it as she watched the others trying to get back to their routine, although they were clearly still affected by what had happened. She told herself that maybe they were overreacting. If Felix had nothing to do with the bombing, then this was all a collective paranoia. If Gabriel complied with her nephew's request, Felix probably wouldn't come back, would he?  

Still, there was something strange about all this, something the girl couldn't ignore. From the moment she arrived at that house, she knew there was something strange about the family. She hadn't even been there a week, but everything seemed shrouded in secrecy.  

She knew Gabriel Agreste was a secretive man, that much was clear from the beginning, but the sudden death of his wife had exacerbated his hermeticism. She wondered if Gabriel was telling them the whole truth. 

Was there something else he hadn't told them? Something he could explain why someone would want to kill him? The man's decision to keep his son away for safety also fueled those doubts.  

But Marinette knew it wasn't their job to solve that mystery. They weren't detectives or cops, they were just there to protect him. Still, she couldn't help but tie up loose ends in her mind. She had been present when Gabriel's sister-in-law and nephew were in the house, and something about their interactions didn't add up. They spoke to each other with too much familiarity, as if they shared secrets that no one else was supposed to know.  

That nagging feeling that there was more than met the eye kept hitting her mind over and over again, even as she tried to concentrate on her work. So finally, she made a decision. She called Renaud, who picked up immediately.  

"Do you have anything else?" He asked, his tone still tense from the day's events.  

"About what you told me yesterday, about my being able to leave? I've decided to stay."

Renaud took a moment before answering "Are you sure? Because things have gotten out of control."

"I think I'm needed here now more than ever, and I want to be here to help" She stated very confidently. 

"That's fine. You'll be very helpful, Marinette."  

And she knew he was right.

 

---

 

Gabriel was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling as if the irregular pattern of shadows could offer him answers. The bitter taste of the cigarette he had smoked earlier still lingered in his mouth, giving him a slight repulsion towards himself. 

Despite that, he didn't have the strength to get up and remedy it. His anger had diminished in intensity, but the echo of humiliation still haunted him, like a thorn in his pride. 

How had Felix dared? How had he managed to reduce him to this feeling of impotence? He was his nephew, a brat he himself had watched grow up. And yet he had infiltrated his home and confronted him with a calmness that bordered on the inhuman. Gabriel felt he had lost a game before he had even played it, and he found that intolerable.

A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He barely moved his head, identifying the sound as that of one of his bodyguards. 

Surely he was there to insist on calling the authorities. He was in no mood for lectures or advice. He ignored the initial knock, hoping they would give up. But the knocking continued, this time more insistent. 

Is it an endurance contest?

If they wanted to test who had more patience, they didn't know who they were dealing with. But the third knock didn't come. Instead, he heard the door slowly open, and to his surprise, Marinette appeared in the doorway. 

The man arched an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. It had been the boldest action she had taken since working for him. 

"Are you here to check if I'm still alive?" 

"Unfortunately, yes" She replied coolly, moving towards the bed without hesitation. She stopped at the side and stared at him as he remained lying down.  

"What is it?" He asked, confused by her posture and inquisitive look.  

"Now you're talking in code" She replied with a hint of impatience.  

"What are you talking about?" He replied, unable to hide his bewilderment.  

"What aren't you telling us?" she crossed her arms. 

Gabriel let out a sigh and closed his eyes for a moment before replying "When I hired you, I don't remember promising you a detailed report on every aspect of my life." 

"This isn't about you, it's about them" She bellowed "There's something you're hiding, something your sister-in-law and nephew also know."

"A family secret? How dramatic. We're not that kind of family. They're not even my family." 

Marinette took a step closer, her stiff posture reflecting his insistence "You know something about them, and they know something about you, don't they?" 

He didn't answer right away. He watched her silently, gauging the intensity of her words and the seriousness on her face. Marinette was right about one thing; the women in his life had been particularly intuitive. His wife, Nathalie... and now Marinette joined that list. 

It was as if they shared a special ability to unearth things he preferred to keep buried.  

"Aren't you going to talk?" 

"If there were such a scenario" He mentioned slowly, cautiously "Why should I tell you, you've become a cop, Marinette?" 

"Nothing like this has ever happened to us before. We are all very upset, and I need to know if they will kill us just for their whims" She snorted, clearly irritated by the evasion.  

The man looked at her carefully, assessing whether or not to respond. The young woman's words did not surprise him; deep down, he knew this situation was untenable. But telling her more than necessary would only complicate things.

Gabriel did not look away from Marinette as he processed her words. The confidence with which she expressed herself unsettled him, but he would not let it show. He remained leaning back, arms crossed over his chest, as his mind debated between answering her or simply ignoring her. 

"My whims?" he repeated, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. His eyes locked on hers, challenging her "I don't think you or your companions are here because you care whether I live or die. This is a job for you guys, isn't it? A contract that someone has to fulfill."

"True. But when someone walks into a house full of armed personnel and humiliates us like we don't exist, that stops being just a job" She didn't back down an inch.  

"And what do you expect me to tell you? That this is all part of a family intrigue? That you're right and there are dark secrets between us?" He let out a dry, bitter laugh.

"I don't expect a full confession, but I do expect something that will allow us to do our job. If anyone else manages to get in like your nephew did, we're all in danger."

Gabriel slowly sat up, sitting on the edge of the bed. His eyes were now level with the girl's.  

"I'll tell you straight, Marinette. My nephew and sister-in-law are dangerous people, you know that. What you don't know is how far they can go. But it's not for me to give you details that even the police don't have." 

"So you admit you're hiding something?" She frowned.  

"What do you want me to do, Marinette?" Gabriel sighed, rubbing his temples as if exhausted "Pull out a list of secrets and read them to you? There are things you simply can't know, because if you did, not only would my life be in danger, but yours and the lives of everyone who works here."

Silence fell over the room. Marinette knew she had touched on a sensitive subject, but she also felt she couldn't leave it there.  

"So, tell me this, at least, will Felix be back?". 

The man looked up, and this time there was something else in his eyes, a mixture of weariness and a shadow of fear that made him seem less impenetrable. 

"If everything goes as it should... no. But I can't promise" He sentenced. 

The young woman nodded slowly, understanding that she would get no more out of him at that moment. But now she had more questions than answers, and the certainty that she was in the middle of something much bigger than she had imagined.

"Why so many questions, Marinette?" He asked in a light tone, as if the situation wasn't as dire as she felt it was.  

"I don't want to be in the crossfire of a family screwing each other."

Gabriel let out a short laugh, a dry chuckle that seemed to vibrate with superiority "Shit, I thought that's why I paid you."

"You're not interested in anyone else besides yourself, are you?" She pursed her lips, furious. 

The man didn't respond right away. He stood up with an irritating calmness and started walking toward the bathroom.  

"Do you want to hear a secret?" He asked as he walked forward.  

The girl did not answer. She watched him with intrigue and distrust.  

"Sometimes, I would have wanted that bullet to go through me."

The statement chilled her for a moment. She had noticed from the beginning that Gabriel had a strange attitude toward his own safety, as if he was being forced to worry about something he didn't really care about. He was like a child being forced to do something against his will.  

The man went into the bathroom without waiting for an answer, determined to wash his mouth and remove the taste of the cigarette he disliked so much. While he was out of sight, Marinette was left alone in the room. Her thoughts were racing as she surveyed the place.  

The room was spacious, elegant and decorated with impeccable taste, as one would expect from someone of Gabriel's wealth and status. But something particularly caught her eye; the portraits of his wife, carefully placed in various parts of the room. It was impossible not to notice them. The entire house was filled with them, like a constant reminder of the tragedy that had struck the family.  

The young woman approached one of the portraits and gently picked it up. The woman was incredibly beautiful, of that there was no doubt. She remembered watching the news when they announced her death; a tragedy that left a husband and son devastated, the headlines said. Thinking about it sent a shiver down her spine. Fate could be cruel.  

Gabriel came out of the bathroom at that moment, wiping his hands on a towel, and his gaze fixed on Marinette. 

"What's your mania for touching my things?" he demanded.

"Is that why you want to die?" She pointed to the portrait she held in her hands and she asked frankly, studying his reaction.  

Gabriel dropped the towel on the back of a nearby chair. His expression was inscrutable "Do you think I believe in that afterlife nonsense?" 

"No" She replied bluntly "But you seem to have given up." 

The man paused, his gaze was obscured by a flash of pain that he tried to hide behind a nonchalant gesture.

"Have you ever had the reason for which you live taken away from you?" 

"Yes."

For the first time, Gabriel looked puzzled. The intensity in Marinette's eyes was enough to let him know she was serious. For an instant, silence filled the space between them, but this time it was not awkward, but heavy, as if they both understood something about the other that could not be said in words. 

The man asked nothing at the girl's cold response. Over time he had learned that he would get no more from her, no matter how hard he tried. For days he had tried to get some more information out of her, but she always refused, closing herself off like a wall. This time would be no different. So, instead of insisting, he preferred to pretend he hadn't heard that harsh statement.

Marinette placed the painting back where she had taken it "I don't think she would have wanted you to give up."

He let out a snort and replied almost without looking at her "Why do you think I'm still here?". 

The answer fell heavy in the air, direct and bitter. Marinette addressed it silently, feeling a twinge of discomfort. It was strange, disturbing even. She had never before had a client who had no will to live. 

Her job was precisely to keep them safe, to preserve lives. But with Gabriel, it seemed ironic. He had no motivation to go on, and yet there he was, asking them for protection from a danger he didn't even seem to care much about.  

The young woman decided enough was enough. She spun on her heel and headed for the door. Before leaving, she paused "I'm retiring, sir. I'll leave you to rest."

It wasn't that she really cared if he rested or not, but there was no point in prolonging that conversation any further. As she was about to leave, Gabriel spoke from the bed, where he was already settling back in.  

"Remind your companions of my warning."

"Don't worry. We won't talk" She replied without turning around. 

Marinette opened the door and stepped out, closing it softly behind her.  

The man leaned back again, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. His mood was still just as sour. Felix had managed to completely ruin his day, and the worst part was that the young man hadn't even tried. All Gabriel could think about was the humiliation he had felt and how little he could do about it.  

Marinette walked back down the hallway in the direction of the classroom where her classmates were surely still arguing. That conversation had been a strange one, like all the ones she'd had with her client since she'd met him. But this time something about it left her with a more bitter taste than usual.  

As she moved forward, a thought crossed her mind, one that had not stopped bothering her for days; she never imagined that the man she had admired so much as a child would turn out to be what she now saw. A hateful, suicidal, selfish and, without a doubt, the world's biggest jerk.  

Still, Marinette knew he would still be there, doing his job. After all, as she herself said, sometimes life was just too cruel.

Notes:

In this story I created a certain past for Gabriel, but now that Gabriel's parents will be introduced in the series, I think they will contradict what I will establish.

Anyway, I had already planned this, so it will be different from the series, thanks for understanding this.

But if there is something that pleases me, it will be added.

I can't wait for the premiere. Thank you!!!

Chapter 5: What the body insinuates, the mind denies.

Summary:

Gabriel discovers a new malaise that complicates his life even more. Marinette is determined to find out what Gabriel is hiding from them, but unwittingly, they both end up giving in.

The day passed with an almost torturous slowness, and the security team made the decision to stop worrying about what had happened to Felix.

They knew that dwelling on the matter would do them no good, and if the young man really had nothing to do with the attack, they were making unnecessary drama. However, the tension was still in the air, and everyone remained alert, even if they tried to hide it. 

What they had faced was not just any situation; it was unique, frightening even.

Marinette, for her part, seemed to push the subject from her mind the most, but not completely. She was still ruminating on the conversation she had had with Gabriel. There was something in his words, in his attitude, that didn't quite add up. Meanwhile, Gabriel remained secluded in his room for the rest of the day, avoiding any interaction.

As night fell, everyone resumed their positions and went back to their surveillance routines, trying to put Felix's unexpected visit behind them as if it had only been a passing nightmare.

When the sun rose the next morning, Gabriel awoke with a strange feeling. He had slept soundly, something that didn't usually happen, and he felt rested. There was no longer any trace of the alcohol in his body, nor the repugnant smell of cigarettes that he had hated the night before. But when he tried to get up, something stopped him.

A physical discomfort, something he hadn't felt in a long time, forced him to stop. He used his hands to support himself and lift himself slightly off the bed. As he did so, Gabriel noticed an unusual stiffness under the covers. He frowned and, with a quick gesture, he pushed them away. What he saw puzzled him even more.

Through the thin fabric of his sleeping pants, it was obvious; he had an erection.

For any other man, this would have been nothing out of the ordinary, but for Gabriel, it was strange, almost disconcerting. He couldn't remember the last time something like this had happened to him. 

Since he became a widower, he had lost all interest in those aspects of life. He didn't look at women with desire, he didn't seek physical pleasure, he didn't even consider it. It was as if that part of his humanity had completely shut down after the death of his wife.

And now, suddenly, there it was.

The man stood still, almost paralyzed, as if he didn't know how to react. At the slightest movement, the rubbing of the tissue against his erection gave him a strange mixture of pleasure and discomfort, something he wasn't prepared to handle.

"What the hell is wrong with me lately?" he muttered under his breath, almost as if he were talking to himself.

It had been a strange couple of days, full of emotions he'd rather not explore, and now this.

An emotional crisis followed by a physical awakening that was taking him completely by surprise. He ran a hand over his face, trying to clear his thoughts, but all he was succeeding in doing was feeling more bewildered.

Gabriel slowly stood up, the discomfort of his erection still present. He felt a mixture of irritation and bewilderment. Wasting no time, he walked to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, hoping the cold water would help him calm down. He tried not to think too much about the situation, but his mind kept spinning.  

What the hell had brought this on?

The man decided not to give those thoughts any space. He turned on the shower, letting the cold water fall hard on his body. He tried to ignore the erection, avoiding even brushing against it. His penis was so tense that he feared any contact might make the situation worse.

As the water ran over his body, little by little he felt the stiffness begin to subside. It was as if the strange sensation was slowly dissipating, leaving only a vague discomfort in its place. 

After a while, his body returned to normal. Gabriel let out a sigh of relief, almost as if he had been holding his breath all that time.  

He stepped out of the shower determined to forget that episode. There was no point in analyzing it.

Gabriel dressed with his usual elegance, selecting each garment with precision; a perfectly pressed shirt, a matching pair of pants, and a pair of shoes that shone with neatness. Next, he carefully combed his hair, making sure that not a single hair was out of place. As a final touch, he applied his favorite lotion and some of the creams he always used to keep his appearance impeccable.  

The man was ready to face the day, although his mind was still burdened with the strangeness of what had happened. He opened the door to his room with the intention of heading to the dining room, but stopped short.  

Marinette was there.

She looked at him with a neutral expression, though there was something in her gaze that made him uncomfortable. Neither of them greeted each other, and the tension between them was normal.

Gabriel couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness. Although he knew the young woman had no way of guessing what had happened minutes before, just seeing her there made him feel vulnerable.  

Why on earth did he have an erection? To think that something in the recent situation could have altered him in that way made him even more uneasy, could it be stress? Fear? But no, that didn't make sense.   

"Sir?" 

Gabriel blinked, snapping back to reality "I'm going out, can you give me a heads up?". 

Marinette arched an eyebrow, clearly disgruntled "Sir, we talked about this...".

"I know, and I apologize" His tone was strained, almost as if he was pleading for patience "It's not intentional, but I need to see a doctor."

"Are you hurt?" She looked at him with surprise, though she kept her expression professional.  

"Are you a doctor too, Marinette?"   

"All right, I'll let you know. But are you feeling all right?" 

Gabriel didn't answer right away. The question left him thinking. The truth was, he didn't know if he was okay. What had happened that morning didn't seem normal to him.  

As Marinette walked away to warn him, Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled deeply. He needed answers. 

Something was going on with his body, something he didn't understand, and he needed to understand it.

 

---

 

Marinette kept watching Gabriel during the drive. When he finished breakfast and everyone was ready, they went to the doctor. He didn't want to tell them what hurt or why he suddenly felt the need to see a doctor. 

The young woman thought of all kinds of answers as she sat next to him in the back of the car. Leroy was driving, and Renaud was in the passenger seat. The place they were going to for the consultation was not too far away. As far as they understood, it was Gabriel's private doctor, which made it the best choice since it was apparently not a medical emergency.  

The girl could notice the man's strange behavior, more reserved than usual, and she couldn't help but wonder what had him so restless.  

When they arrived, Marinette unbuckled her seatbelt to climb down next to him, but then Gabriel spoke up.  

"Could I go by myself?" All three looked at him immediately. 

"It's not possible. We don't know the place, and with everything that happened it would be a very dangerous thing to do" Renaud answered. 

"It's just a consultation" Gabriel sighed, clearly irritated, 

"That's why only Marinette will go with you" Renaud looked at him seriously.

Gabriel looked like he wanted to debate, but in the end he gave in. He unbuckled his seatbelt and he got out of the car, followed by the young woman, who looked at him intently.  

For as long as she had known him, he had always had an attitude of superiority and control, but today he was more subdued, almost vulnerable, which puzzled her. He knew exactly where to go. It was evident that he knew the place well.  

The private clinic was everything one would expect from someone like Gabriel; luxurious, impeccable and modern in design. The walls were a pristine white that reflected the light from the sleek LED panels on the ceiling. Even the floor looked like luxury, with polished marble tiles that echoed with every step they took.  

When they arrived at the reception desk, a neat, professional-looking woman greeted them behind a minimalist glass desk. 

"Gabriel Agreste, I have an appointment" He announced their arrival.

The receptionist nodded with a formal smile and disappeared through a side door. Gabriel remained silent while Marinette, at his side, observed every detail of the place, analyzing every movement, as was usual for her.  

A few minutes later, the office door opened, and a man came out. It was evident that he was the man's doctor, but his appearance was far from what the young woman expected.  

The doctor was tall and thin, with black hair combed back. He wore thin-rimmed glasses that accentuated his piercing eyes, and his smile was friendly, but denoted an almost intimidating confidence. His spotless white coat and the expensive watch on his wrist spoke of his success.  

"Mr. Agreste!" exclaimed the doctor in an animated tone as he reached out to shake his patient's hand "It's been years since you've been here, even for checkups."

Gabriel squeezed the doctor's hand briefly, keeping his expression neutral "Yes, Plagg, well...you know how I am."

Doctor Plagg laughed softly as he gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder "Now that's true" Then his gaze drifted to Marinette, assessing her briefly before returning his focus to Gabriel "Well, what brings you here? Something urgent or did you finally decide to take care of yourself for a bit?" 

Gabriel averted his gaze for a moment, as if he didn't want to answer in front of Marinette. 

"It's just a consultation. Nothing serious."

Plagg arched an eyebrow, evidently skeptical, but decided not to press further "Perfect. Come into the office, and we'll discuss it." 

Gabriel gestured toward Marinette for her to stay in the waiting room "You don't need to come in." 

"My job is not to leave him alone."

"I'm not negotiating" Gabriel's tone was firm but not hostile.  

Before the situation could escalate, Plagg interjected with a diplomatic smile "Don't worry, miss. This will be quick and completely private."

Marinette looked at Gabriel with some distrust before nodding "I'll be out here."

Gabriel nodded, grateful that he didn't have to argue anymore. He entered the office along with Plagg, leaving the young woman watching the door with her arms crossed. Something about his demeanor didn't fit, and she knew he was hiding something. 

Meanwhile, in the office, Plagg closed the door and turned to Gabriel, leaning lightly on his desk.  

"Well, Mr. Agreste. Now that we're alone, will you tell me what's going on? Because it doesn't look like you've come just to chat."

"This is... awkward to explain" He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Please, you know I've seen it all.  

Gabriel hesitated for a moment, yes, he'd been her doctor for years and he's a man, that doesn't make it any less embarrassing. 

"I had an erection this morning."

Plagg stared at him for a few seconds before chuckling softly "Gabriel, that's not out of the ordinary, why are you so worried?". 

"You don't understand. I haven't had one in years. Ever since..." He paused, unable to finish the sentence "I don't know what the hell is going on with me."

"I understand" Plagg stopped laughing and adopted a more serious expression "We're going to do some questions and possibly some analysis. This could be due to many things; stress, hormonal changes or even something psychological. But don't be alarmed just yet."

Gabriel nodded, though he didn't look relieved. He knew Plagg could help him, but he hated feeling so out of control.

"I heard they tried to kill you. That's pretty shocking news, are you feeling stressed? Anxious about that?" 

"No, about the assassination attempt, no. Yesterday... I had a very stressful situation. I felt like I was exploding and I was very upset.”

Plagg nodded, crossing his arms as he analyzed the confession "I think we found the cause. You had a stressful episode, and your body knows it. Somehow, it seeks to release it." 

"Yes, but... An erection? That's silly" He frowned, obviously uncomfortable. 

"Managing stress isn't just anything. There are many methods to release pent-up tension: relaxation, yoga, exercise, and certainly sexual activity. All of those help get the stress out of your body. But, if you don't do any of those activities, your body still feels the stress. And, well, it looks for...alternative ways to process it."

"And what can I do? I can't be getting erections, let alone because I'm not alone" Gabriel snorted, clearly frustrated. 

"Yeah, I noticed" Plagg sketched a faint smile, amused. 

"Noticed what?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow.   

"The young lady who escorted you here. I assumed she was part of the team that's guarding you" He took a pause, looking at him curiously.  

"She's part of the damn team that follows me around, how am I supposed to deal with this surrounded by them?" 

"Try some activity to relax."

"I was doing it working, but I'm forbidden to go out. I look like a kid who got scolded by his parents. And now I get this" Gabriel threw up his hands, exasperated.  

"I can hear the stress in your voice. Get some exercise. Distract yourself. Relax. Your body is on edge, about to explode. Or do you want it to explode in front of that young woman?" 

"Of course not" he pursed his lips uncomfortably "It's a harassment claim for sure." 

"Then you need to find a solution" He sentenced "Erections are the least of it. If you don't handle it, you could develop insomnia, stomach problems, or something more serious. This is surprising, yes, but not scary."

"I don't know if I should be cool with that. Who would be?" Gabriel looked down at the floor, thoughtfully "I'd rather have insomnia than wake up with a big, painful erection." 

"That's up to you. But I'd advise you to do something before this escalates. Believe me, stress doesn't magically disappear."

Gabriel nodded reluctantly, knowing the doctor was right. However, the idea of changing his routine was irritating him. For now, he just wanted to get out of there before Marinette started asking questions he wasn't prepared to answer.

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice" He rose from his office seat.  

"You didn't come in for any routine consultation, Gabriel. What if this was something serious?" Plagg crossed his arms and looked at him disapprovingly.  

"This is serious."

"I think you're the only man in the world who's bothered by an erection. But try to relax."

The two shook hands, ending the visit. As they left the office, Marinette was standing waiting near the door. She immediately approached as soon as she saw them. 

"Are you finished?" 

"Yes, I'd just like to see Mr. Agreste more often." 

"We'll see" She replied without hesitation. 

"I appreciate your time, doctor. Goodbye." 

Calling the consultation over, Gabriel began to walk toward the exit. The young woman let out a brief farewell to the doctor before hurrying to follow the man. She quickly fell into step beside him as they moved through the halls of the clinic.  

"I don't see the prescription" She commented watching him out of the corner of her eye.  

"Prescription for what?" he asked. 

"For whatever he had. Don't tell me you made us leave on a whim of yours."

"I don't lie about feeling bad. I'm not you" He paused for a moment to look directly at her. 

"You make me sick."

"You think I lie?" He arched an eyebrow, as if enjoying the confrontation.  

"I know" She replied, crossing her arms as they continued walking towards the exit.

"I had a stress crisis this morning, what did you prescribe? Exercise or relaxation." 

Marinette looked at him, surprised. Not so much because of the content of his answer, but because he didn't beat around the bush, as he usually did. Usually, getting answers from Gabriel was a tedious and frustrating process. However, something in his tone and words struck her as sincere. 

The girl thought about what she had seen the day before; his confusion, his blank stare. The possibility that it was true didn't surprise her, but Gabriel's attitude did.  

Why didn't he say so from the beginning?  

They both left the hospital, where the car was already waiting for them. Without asking questions or commenting, Leroy and Renaud remained silent as Gabriel and Marinette got into the car. 

On the way back, the silence was absolute. The young woman kept looking at Gabriel, searching for something in his expression.  

There was something different about him. He didn't seem confused as in the morning, but that fear in his eyes was still present, as if he was facing something bigger than them.  

Marinette began to wonder if the man they were protecting was not only hiding an intense family drama from them, but also something deeper. Was he hiding some disease from them?

 

---

 

Arriving at the house, the team went through a brief but meticulous security routine. They still could not explain how Felix had managed to get in, which led them to reinforce the measures. Once finished, everyone dispersed to resume their respective tasks.  

It was still Marinette's turn to look after Gabriel, so she followed him directly. Thank you went to her office with the intention of working. Work had always been his way of distracting himself, and this time would be no different. He was determined to concentrate on his responsibilities and put the strange episode of the morning behind him. He didn't want it to happen again, let alone be resorting to cold showers every time he woke up with a problem.  

M with her usual neutral but alert expression, settled into one of the corners of the office. But she was quick to break the silence.  

"Shouldn't you be doing something more relaxing, sir?" She asked.  

"You want me to work out here?" he replied sarcastically.  

"Managing stress isn't easy."

"Says someone who uses a cigar to relax" He let out a snort.  

"It's what helps me the most" She replied calmly, shrugging her shoulders.  

"Don't you work out or do other nonsense?" He asked as if he was joking.  

"I do, sir. We need physical strength for this job."

Gabriel stopped what he was doing and turned to her curiously "I've never seen you exercise."

"I won't do it in front of you" She looked at him as if the answer was obvious. 

"You don't want me to see your huge muscles?" he sketched an amused smile.  

"You guys are disgusting."

Her response was immediate, dry and blunt. 

Gabriel was silent for a moment, taken aback by the harshness of her tone. Then he reflected on what she had said and realized how it might have been interpreted. Of course, she misunderstood. His intention had been nothing more than to joke about how strange it was for him to imagine her muscular, considering her small, slender figure.  

"That's not what I meant. Sorry if I didn't explain myself well.”

The young woman was becoming more and more convinced that there was more to him than stress. His behavior was inconsistent and, now, even quick to correct mistakes and apologize, something that did not go with the image she had formed of him. She spent a lot of time with him, and one thing she always noticed was that he would look straight into her eyes, as if searching for something there that even she couldn't define.

"Don't worry, sir" She blurted out finally, wanting to close the awkward exchange.  

"But tell me something... Can you break boards and stuff?" 

"No, but I can break down doors and deliver accurate blows."

"Can you break me down?" He tilted his head, intrigued. 

The question left him thinking for a moment. It was a ridiculous idea; he was a tall, burly man, while Marinette, with her short stature and slender build, seemed too small to do such a thing. The image that formed in his mind of a mouse knocking down a giraffe was almost comical.  

"I could knock him down and have him against the ground in less than a second" She replied with a confidence that took him by surprise. 

She said it with pride, highlighting her strength and skills. But Gabriel only heard the last, and it was as if the words activated in his mind in a completely unexpected way. Suddenly, his imagination betrayed him. He visualized the scene: him, lying on the floor of that very office, subdued by the young woman with force and precision.  

Was that... exciting?  

The thought hit him like a wave of heat, unexpected and disturbing. A shock of pleasure coursed through his body, rising from the base of his back to his neck. His hand with which he was working, began to visibly tremble.  

"Shit!" he exclaimed. 

The man abruptly stepped down from the lectern and began walking toward the door with quick, almost clumsy steps.  

Marinette surprised by his sudden outburst, put aside any thoughts she had and followed him. Her own steps were quick, trying to catch up with him.  

"Sir, are you all right?" She asked, concerned.  

Gabriel didn't answer, his mind was in chaos. He couldn't let her know what had happened, or even suspect. But the girl could not ignore that something very strange was going on. This behavior was not only out of character for him, but for anyone.  

She followed closely behind him as he sped towards his room, leaving a very strange moment. 

"Sir, what's going on!". 

But he didn't answer. He came up to the door of her room with the young woman almost at his heels. The man stopped, turned to her with a face marked by frustration. 

"I'm not feeling well" He stated in a strained voice "Please don't come into my room without my permission."

Without giving her time to respond, Gabriel closed the door right in front of her, leaving Marinette completely shocked.  

She stood there, motionless, trying to process what had just happened.What had that been? Everything was seemingly calm, and suddenly he was running away as if something had attacked him. The girl took a deep breath and folded her arms. This job already seemed like a monumental challenge to her, and they hadn't even completed a week.

Inside the room, Gabriel paced back and forth, unable to find a moment of calm. His mind kept replaying the scene of what had just happened in his office, and what disturbed him the most was that he didn't understand why his body and mind were reacting the way they were.  

"What the fuck is happening to me?" he muttered, clenching his fists.

He was not a man who allowed himself to lose control, and yet in a matter of seconds it had all fallen apart. The way his imagination had betrayed his logic, the uncomfortable warmth he had felt coursing through his body.... It all made him feel like a stranger in his own skin.  

"I'm not a fucking animal" He gently slapped the wall with the palm of his hand.  

Gabriel tried to remember what Plagg had told him. To clear the stress, to relax, to find activities that would help him release that pent-up tension. But how was he going to do that if he couldn't even be around people without his mind playing tricks on him? Was he going to start meditating? The idea seemed ridiculous to him, but he was so lost that he couldn't even rule it out completely.  

For now, all he could do was stay locked in his room. He needed time to gather his thoughts, find a solution, or at least determine what the next step would be. The man pressed his lips tightly together and flopped down on the bed, running both hands through his hair in frustration. He felt trapped in a mental storm with no escape.

 

---

 

Marinette was in the operating room, watching Leroy and Fernand rehearse possible answers to the biggest unknown of the moment: how the hell had Felix managed to get into the house? 

The property was almost a fortress. The high stone walls impossible to scale, the main entrance guarded with precision, and the security camera system covering every critical point. Even the air was out of the question; any attempt to enter by parachute or helicopter would have been detected. But Felix had made it, and that question was still echoing in everyone's mind.  

While the others remained focused on the technical, the young woman couldn't get another unknown out of her mind; the secrets Gabriel and his family were hiding. Something about it all didn't add up. 

Suddenly, something caught her attention. In the entrance chamber, Bruno was checking on someone. Marinette approached the monitor and recognized the visitor, it was Harry. 

If anyone knew anything, it was him. She picked up the communicator and spoke directly to Bruno.  

"I'll take it. Thank you."

Without waiting any longer, she quickly left the room and she headed for the main entrance. The girl barely made it and was met by the man, who smiled at her as soon as he saw her.  

"Hi. Marinette, isn't it?". 

"That's right. This way, please" She replied, pointing the way.  

"Aren't you supposed to be following Gabriel?" 

"Sir hasn't left his room since we got back from the doctor."

Harry paused for a moment and looked at her curiously, "Did something happen?" 

"We don't know. That's why I wanted to ask you something. Does he have any chronic illnesses? Any frequent ailments?" 

"No, nothing like that" He raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question "Gabriel is the healthiest person I know".

"He wouldn't tell us anything, I thought you might know."

"You don't have to worry about him."

Marinette frowned, dissatisfied with the answer. She wasn't worried about Gabriel; she was worried about what all this mystery might mean for the team.

Her teammates were in danger, her job hung in the balance, and the young woman's patience was wearing thin, was that all because of some idiot pretending to be interesting?  

"And how is your relationship with your family? Can you tell us anything that might help us?" She asked him. 

"What family are you referring to exactly?" He arched an eyebrow, clearly confused.

Marinette didn't have time to press him further. They had reached Gabriel's room. She knew she should take every opportunity to resolve his doubts, but she also had no authority to stop the man. Just before Harry opened the door, she raised her hand to stop him.  

"Wait."

She knocked on the door without being abrupt. She remembered the last words he had said to her before locking himself in. Receiving no response, she knocked again, this time accompanying the gesture with words.  

"Sir, your friend is here, shall I send him in?". 

"Send him in" Gabriel's voice answered from the other side. 

Marinette stepped back, letting Harry enter. Although she didn't have permission to enter, she stood near the door, waiting. It wasn't her turn to watch, but she couldn't help but feel alert. There was something that didn't add up for her about the whole thing. Besides, she wanted more answers from the visitor, so she would wait as long as it took.  

Inside the room, Harry paused for a moment as he entered, looking around. The atmosphere in the house was different since his arrival, more tense. He had noticed that, at the entrance, they had searched him thoroughly, noting who he was, why he was there, and whether he came alone. It all seemed a bit over the top to him.  

Gabriel was sitting in one of the bedroom chairs, he had loosened the garment around his neck and had a few buttons of his shirt undone, as if he was having trouble breathing normally.  

"Did they try to kill you right after I left?" Harry asked jokingly.  

"No, not quite," Gabriel looked at him with obvious weariness.  

"It's just that your bodyguards are rougher now."

"Felix was here" He let out a sigh "No one saw him come in, so they're like cats about to attack each other."

"Wow, your nephew is scary." 

"Whatever, and did you do what I asked?". 

"Sure, that's what I was coming to tell you. Nathalie was discharged today. She said not to worry, she'll guard those rings with her life." 

For the first time all day, a small calm smile crept across Gabriel's face. 

"At least some good news."

"And what did Felix want?" 

"That worries me... I don't know."

"Did he say anything to you?" 

"Yes, he wanted me to get the police off his back.  

"Then why do you say you don't know?" Harry arched an eyebrow.  

"It's silly that he came all this way just for that. Felix isn't like that. He came for something else" He sighed, visibly frustrated.  

"Why, what do you think he was after?" 

"That's what I don't know. But now that I know the rings are safe, they'll be the least of my worries."

Harry watched him silently for a moment. He understood the weight he had to carry. Being part of a family that only awaited your death couldn't be easy. But he preferred to avoid that topic. 

"Hey, they said you went to the doctor-nothing serious?" 

"Do my bodyguards tell you everything?" 

"They're more cautious about visitors, I guess."

"No, it was just a routine consultation" Gabriel waved his hand nonchalantly.  

"Then why are you locked in here?" He looked at him suspiciously. 

"I'm locked in my own house, do you want me to have a picnic outside?" He let out a dry laugh. 

Gabriel's tone was so sharp that Harry held up his hands in peace.  

"You sound so stressed...".

Gabriel then looked at him with such a dark expression that his friend felt a shiver. It was a look that could crush anyone.  

"Did you go to the doctor for stress?" Harry asked, a little more cautiously.  

Gabriel nodded with a clenched jaw.  

"You know what I do when I'm stressed?" 

"You scrunch up your nose like an idiot."

"Exactly, but I also breathe. I calm down and think in a quiet, peace-filled place."

Harry moved behind Gabriel, who was still sitting in the chair, and he placed his hands on Gabriel's shoulders in an attempt to relax him. But he reacted immediately, jumping up as if the contact had burned him, moving quickly away.  

The silence that followed was heavy and strange. They both looked at each other without saying anything, until after a few seconds. 

"I'm very touchy... Excuse me."

"Have you tried meditating?" 

"It's the shit I'm trying to avoid" Gabriel rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed.  

"I'm trying to help. It's what friends do, remember?" he bellowed "You don't deserve Marinette's concern." 

"Marinette worrying about me? That doesn't make any sense." 

"It would seem so. She was out there insisting on knowing if you had any illness or anything serious. I'll tell you, I've never seen anyone so insistent about something like that."

"It's not concern. It's just that it complicates your job" He let out a short laugh, no trace of humor "Do you have any idea what it's been like to have them hanging around all the time? They're not here because they care."

"Mmm... I don't know" Her eyes scrutinized him intently "It seemed genuine."

Gabriel ignored him. He spun on his heels, heading for the bay window, where the afternoon light streamed into his room. He stared out, his thoughts a chaotic mess.  

"So?" Harry asked "You're not going to tell me why you're suddenly running around locked up like a prisoner?" 

Gabriel tensed his jaw. He couldn't talk about what was really going on, about that constant feeling of losing control. He also couldn't explain to her why every interaction with Marinette lately left him on the edge of something he didn't want to explore.  

"Nothing important" He replied curtly "I just needed some space."

"You know what I think? I think you should breathe, Gabi. Relax. Learn to count to ten, or try one of those meditation things."

"Please spare me your self-help advice," Gabriel spun on his heels to look at him. 

"I'm just saying..." He continued, raising his hands in a sign of peace, "That you're not going to survive long if you keep this up. Even Marinette is worried."

Gabriel didn't respond. He wasn't going to argue something so absurd. Instead, he decided to cut the conversation short.  

"Are you finished telling me what you came to say?". 

"Yes, I'm done. But think about it, Gabi. You can't keep carrying everything by yourself" But Gabriel kept looking at him as if he was the weird one there "I'll give your regards to Nathalie." 

"Don't tell her anything. About Felix, the doctor, or about how you found me. Nothing, got it?" 

"Okay, but make sure you're better the next time she comes."

"I will be" He nods with a slight nod "Thanks for coming".  

"Just stay alive." 

Gabriel says nothing. His mind gets caught up in those two words; stay alive, was that so hard? Maybe it was. What should be simple seemed like an impossible feat lately.

It is amazing how the attack he suffered had triggered so many things in his life. Everything felt out of control, as if every decision was dragging him further away from stability.  

Harry said goodbye, and Gabriel barely gave it a thought. He didn't even walk him to the door. His attention was divided between their conversation and the growing sense that life was getting harder by the second, as if the universe was testing him.  

Harry stepped out into the hallway and, as he closed the door, found Marinette, who still stood there like a motionless statue. The young woman was looking at him with a neutral expression, but her posture conveyed unease. 

"I know you're very worried, but give him space, okay?" Harry advised with a calm smile.  

"I get paid to keep him alive. If he dies, the business is over" She gave him a cold look. 

The man laughed lightly, as if the seriousness of her words didn't affect him in the least.  

"He's just irritated and stressed" He shrugged "He's always had trouble with stress, it runs in the family."  

"Runs in the family?" She asked cautiously, trying to figure out what he meant.  

"Oh, no, don't get me wrong" He laughed again, this time more softly "There's no bad" in her family, but you know, bad habits run in families."

Marinette watched him carefully as he continued walking toward the exit. His answers were deliberately vague, as if he was saying a lot but not revealing anything really important.  

"You two seem to have known each other for a long time" She tries to fish for something more substantial amidst his evasions.    

"Since we were very young. That's why I charge you so much. I don't know what I'd do if he was gone."

"Yeah, sure" She mumbled, not very convinced.  

As he walked away, the girl couldn't help but think how ironic it all was. A person as insufferable as Gabriel had others so sincerely concerned about him, what kind of magic or hypocrisy kept someone like that surrounded by people willing to defend him?  

Uncertainty gnawed at her. Try as she might, she could not unravel the secrets that seemed to envelop Gabriel and those around him. But one thing was clear; her instinct told her that what they were hiding was far from simple, and sooner or later, she would find out. 

They reached the front door. Harry waved goodbye to Marinette with a smile. 

"Good luck." 

The young woman barely mumbled a farewell without much encouragement, watching as he walked through the door and the security personnel checked him once more. The new measures were strict, almost over the top, but necessary.

Still, something continued to bother her.  

Marinette decided not to go back to Gabriel's room; he had been locked up since they returned from the doctor. Her team was more concerned with solving the mystery of Felix and how he had managed to infiltrate the house. 

The young woman felt she should return with them, but a sense of futility washed over her. She hadn't gotten any clear answers from Harry, and it was spinning in her head.

Fortunately she's not a cop, because she'd be lousy. 

 

---

 

The day progressed slowly. It was past afternoon, and boredom now reigned. The house was silent, Gabriel had not left his room, and nothing relevant had happened. Not that they were slacking, but it was a particularly monotonous day.  

Bruno walked into the safe room and plopped down in a chair, stretching his arms as if he didn't know what else to do.  

"Did you notice anything unusual?" She asked, still not taking her eyes off the cameras.  

"No" He answered reluctantly "Sir hasn't come out. His plate is still in the dining room. Now he's going to starve himself to death?”

Marinette thought about it, frowning. She thought her friend's visit would calm him down, but it seemed to have locked him even more into his world. Without further ado, she rose from her seat, as if she couldn't stand the uncertainty any longer.  

"Where are you going?" Bruno asked with a raised eyebrow.  

"To make sure he's alive" She replied in a dry tone, though some trepidation peeked through her words.  

"He must be resting. For him this must be like a vacation" Bruno let out a small laugh.  

Marinette was in disbelief. Nothing about Gabriel's behavior since the morning had been normal, and his prolonged confinement was more disturbing than relaxing. She left the safe room and headed for the man's room with quick steps.  

When she arrived, she knocked softly on the door "Sir, it's time to eat." 

The young woman waited a moment and she knocked again, this time more insistently.  

"Sir?" 

Nothing.  

Marinette felt an uneasiness growing in her chest. Something was not right. She hesitated for a moment, remembering how Gabriel had made it clear that he didn't want anyone to enter without his permission, but she decided to open the door slightly, just enough to take a peek.  

The room was quiet. Everything seemed in order... but empty. She looked all around, scanning the room with her eyes from top to bottom, left to right. She didn't see Gabriel.  

The girl frowned. It couldn't be possible. She had been monitoring the cameras all day, and she hadn't seen him leave. Where was Gabriel?

Marinette entered the room and her eyes kept searching for the man.  

"Sir?" She called again, this time more forcefully.  

A noise from the bathroom broke the silence, followed by Gabriel's voice, muffled by the closed door.  

"Marinette?" 

"Yes, it's me" She answered, crossing her arms impatiently.  

"What are you doing in here?" Gabriel shouted at her from the bathroom "Is it that hard to follow an order?" 

"I knocked on the door and he never answered" She sighed, exasperated "I had to make sure he was still breathing."

Gabriel opened the bathroom door in obvious annoyance and stepped out. He looked almost normal, but his shirt was unbuttoned just enough to expose his stomach. The young woman raised an eyebrow, but said nothing about it.  

"Killing me in my room? How melodramatic do you think I am" He spat sarcastically, trying to hide his irritation.  

"You are" She replied fearlessly "And your food has been ready for a while now."

"I thought Harry was exaggerating? Are you really worried about me?" He looked at her with a hint of amusement.  

"How will it look if we let him starve to death?" 

"You're like a rabbit, fluffy and cuddly, why are you trying so hard to be so rude?" He let out a short, somewhat tired laugh.  

"Why are you always reading to me?" she narrowed her eyes, clearly annoyed. 

"You want me to read to your boring classmates?" He replied with a half-smirk "They were useless for major assignments and stagnate here."

"Stop doing that" She pointed an accusing finger at him.  

 "Why?" 

"It's rude" She replied offended "I don't do that. For example... What were you doing in the bathroom that you wouldn't listen to me?”

The question took him by surprise, and for a moment, Gabriel kept silent. He didn't want to talk about it, or he simply didn't feel like answering.  

Marinette took the opportunity to continue, "You see? It's extremely intrusive. Now, are you going to go eat or do I ask for your plate to be removed?" 

"I'm coming" He replied visibly irritated at feeling cornered in conversation.  

While the man buttoned the last buttons of his shirt and arranged his messy hair, the girl remained standing vigilantly, as if she had won a small battle.

Gabriel left his room, and Marinette, as expected, followed him. She could not afford to let him wander about the house alone.

They made their way to the dining room, where the food was already served, though clearly cold. But he didn't seem to pay attention to this detail; she simply moved the chair, he sat down, and began to eat with apparent indifference. 

Marinette faithful to her position, stood behind him, watching him with the same neutrality as always.  

Gabriel noticed her presence and, after a couple of mouthfuls, looked up at her "Sit down" He ordered in a voice that left no room for discussion.  

"I already ate."

"I'm not asking you to eat, just to sit down."

"Why?" she looked at him suspiciously. 

He set his fork down on his plate and leaned back slightly in his chair "It's awkward eating while you're standing back there, looking at me as if you're evaluating every bite. Stop arguing already."

Marinette snorted, but decided not to fight. She moved to one of the nearby chairs, scooted it back, and sat down, crossing her legs, with the nonchalant air she usually maintained. The man resumed his meal, calm, while she watched him without much interest... at first.  

Suddenly, her gaze focused on the plate in front of him. What Gabriel was eating piqued her curiosity; she had no idea what the extravagant mixture was. Before she could disguise her intrigue, he caught her looking at her food.  

"Are you sure you ate already?" He asked with a half smile. 

"Yes, but... What are you eating?" She averted her gaze, uncomfortable.  

Gabriel answered, listing the ingredients of a dish that looked more like a work of art than a meal. It was something only someone with high purchasing power could afford; a combination of caviar, organic quinoa, wild asparagus and an exotic imported fish, prepared gourmet style.  

"I've never heard that in my life" She frowned, evidently surprised.  

"And what do you guys eat?" He asked in confusion.  

"Regular food." 

 "Why?" 

"We're not going to grab from your food" She stated.  

"That's strange. I've never seen them eat. Do they photosynthesize or what?" He let out a short laugh.  

"We're living with you, but we don't mingle" She shook her head, keeping her expression serious. 

Gabriel leaned an elbow on the table, looking at her with amusement "Being rude again." 

"It's a rule" She clarified "We don't touch your food, your privacy, much less your things."

"You touched my stuff" He pointed out.

"I didn't, I just looked" She was quick to retort.  

"What's the difference?" 

"That I didn't touch anything." 

"You touched my things, invaded my privacy, and now you're worrying about food" He began to list with his fingers, as if keeping a mental record.  

"No, but I doubt I could eat that" She pointed to the plate with a skeptical expression.  

"Fine palate?" He let out a laugh. 

"Not really. Growing up in a bakery shapes your appetite."

"You grew up in a bakery?" He looked up, genuinely curious. 

"Yes."

"It must be hard, growing up surrounded by food."

"Not really" She shook her head "Serving customers is the hard part."

Gabriel nodded, agreeing for the first time in what seemed like forever "That I can understand." 

He agreed with her. Customers are always the hardest thing in a food business, especially those who feel they have the right to walk all over you. 

The man leans back slightly against the back of his chair, fingers drumming gently on the arm of his chair. He swallows a bitter memory that rises from his stomach, a feeling that doesn't quite go away. 

"Customers are the worst. Especially the ones who think they can buy you with a smile or their money."

The girl nods, recognizing the truth in his words. 

"Did you hate growing up there?" He asked suddenly.

"No, not at all. It was the best I could have" She looks at him, somewhat confused by the change of subject.

Her answer throws him off. Gabriel watches her in disbelief, how can anyone love the place where he grew up? He hates with every fiber of his being the place that saw him born, the one that left him with scars that have never finished healing. For him, his past is a curse he carries on his back.  

"You grew up in a sweet place" His voice is low, almost as a thought aloud "Why are you so bitter?". 

"You make me bitter."

"You blame me? You've been like this for as long as I've known you" He lets out a short laugh, though mirthless 

"Why so much interest in the place I grew up in?". 

"Why not, you go bother me in my room and then complain that I'm interested."

"See? Stop meddling in my life."

"I'm not meddling. You're telling me" He raised an eyebrow, as if the comment amused him.  

Marinette tries to retort, but finds no argument. He's right, and it irritates her. She doesn't know why he told her so much, or why he allowed her that little intrusion. Maybe for a moment she thought they could talk like two normal people.

"That's what I get for talking" She mumbled, letting her body fall a little more towards the back of the chair, crossing her arms as if protecting herself from him.  

The young woman chided herself, she should have let him starve herself to death, but she had to go to her room and now she had to live with that decision.

"I abhor the place I grew up in." 

The young woman watches him, waiting for him to continue, but he does not. He gives no further details, offers no more information. It's a door that opens and closes in a second. She restrains herself from asking; she feels that to do so would be to open a wound she doesn't want to explore. With him, everything always seems to be an exchange: you give something to get something. And Marinette doesn't want to get into that game.  

"Feel lucky for that." 

Marinette blinks, confused at first. Lucky for what, the place where she grew up? She's never been ashamed of her past, nor has she ever denied her roots. She is proud of where she came from. But as she looks at Gabriel now, she notices something different about him. 

An emotion she hadn't seen before; envy.  

For the first time, the young woman understands that although the man appears strong and aloof, there is something about him that consumes him. Perhaps it is not hatred that drives him. Perhaps it is something much deeper.

Something she cannot erase or control.

Notes:

I was too tempted to change Gabriel's past, I adore his parents in the series, but if I do, the fic won't make much sense.

I hope you understand.

I know we're just getting started, but I hope you've figured out where this is all going.

Thanks.

Chapter 6: One step into confidence, two steps into the abyss.

Summary:

Marinette and Gabriel have a long-standing dispute over trust - should it be earned or should it be given? As they find out more about the mysterious attacker, who may already have a name.

Gabriel awoke feeling crushed, as if a steamroller had passed over him and he was still there. He stirred between the blankets slowly, his body protesting every movement. 

His gaze dropped almost immediately, and he let out a sigh of relief at not finding a morning erection waiting for him. For a moment, he had feared that this inconvenience would become a constant, as if he were trapped in late adolescence.  

Still, the memory of what he had done to relieve himself embarrassed him deeply, had he preferred masturbating to meditating? Yes, he had, and the man felt like a sick man. 

Of course, meditating would have been wiser, but doing so while surrounded by people watching him was impossible. Gabriel had tried to practice in his room, but that space brought back too many disturbing memories that overwhelmed him every time he closed his eyes.  

Besides, practically the entire house was under surveillance; rooms, hallways, and any corner where someone could hide. His office, which used to be a private sanctuary, was also under observation after Felix's intrusion. 

The only room free of cameras was still his bedroom, and that only because of a minimal privacy issue.  

Gabriel got out of bed, walked to the bathroom, did his business and he washed his hands. Not caring about his appearance, rumpled sleepwear, disheveled hair, with no intention of grooming himself, he went out into the hallway. 

There was Marinette, as always, waiting.    

The man began to walk toward the dining room, and as was customary, the young woman followed him. As she did so, his mind wandered to a question he had not considered until that moment, Marinette never called him by name. 

For as long as he had known her, he had always called her by her name, since that was how she was introduced to him. But she had never called him. Gabriel, why?  

They both arrived at the dining room, where their breakfast was already served, steaming and perfectly arranged on the table. Without a second thought, Gabriel took a seat. Marinette looked ready to place herself behind him, but he looked up and stopped her movement.  

"Sit down. We've discussed this."

"We didn't discuss it. You just ordered sir" She arched an eyebrow, but didn't stop in her usual defiance. 

However, she didn't want to drag out the exchange and, somewhat reluctantly, she sat down in the same place as the day before.

Gabriel took the silverware and began to eat, ignoring the possible awkwardness of the situation. He was confident that the girl would have eaten breakfast by now. If she hadn't, well, that would be rude.  

As he ate in silence, his thoughts kept returning to the same question, why didn't Marinette ever say her name? 

The man took a sip of water, setting the silverware aside, and looked up at the young woman.  

"What's your full name?" 

"Why do you want to know?" 

"I'm used to being formal" He replied calmly "And I just realized I haven't been with you."

"You just want to keep bothering" She let out a small snort, crossing her arms.  

"I'll know anyway."

"Why does he care so far?" She sighed, trying to keep her composure.  

"I never noticed, I mean, you all introduced yourselves with your names, but I never asked further" He leaned forward a little, resting an arm on the table. 

"We introduced ourselves with informal names to ensure trust" She replied dryly.  

"That's ridiculous" He replied, sketching a disbelieving smile "We barely knew each other" 

"Yes, and that's why. We will be the ones to take care of you, and you must have full confidence in us. It's protocol for you to trust that we will keep you safe."

"Well, I spent a lot on you guys. I trust you to take care of me" He let out a short, sarcastic laugh.

"It's not the same" She shook her head, as if explaining something to a child. 

"Why not?" He inquired, curious but with a tone that bordered on provocative "I read your recommendations, your performance, isn't that enough?". 

Marinette took a deep breath before answering "No, it's not enough. Fortunately, we haven't had a risky situation with you since we arrived, but if it happens, you must trust us with your eyes closed. Trust our actions and our orders without hesitation."

"You think I wouldn't obey them?" He watched her with derision and genuine intrigue.  

"Like you with Nathalie?" she narrowed her eyes, clearly annoyed.  

That answer took him by surprise, though he didn't show it. But Marinette wasn't finished 

"I read the report. Nathalie ordered him to keep low. She guided you to hide in the car. You didn't hesitate. You obeyed her because you trust her. That's what you must do with us."

Gabriel wanted to laugh, not at the comment, but at the comparison. Trusting Nathalie was natural; she had saved his life countless times, but to do the same with them? It was a difficult idea to digest. 

"So you're saying I should blindly trust you?" He asked, letting the mockery in his voice become clear.  

"Yes" He didn't hesitate "If you don't, I don't understand what we're doing here. If you don't trust us to keep you alive, there's no point to our presence."

"And you've already failed. If Felix had wanted to, he'd be dead by now" The young woman clenched her jaw, but her gaze didn't waver. 

"That was a huge failure" She admitted frankly "We blame ourselves every second for that, but it won't happen again. If Felix tries anything, I promise you that I will not hesitate to attack him." 

The man saw the seriousness in her eyes, for a moment, she almost made him believe her words.

"I thought you've never killed anyone" He leaned back a little in his chair, looking at her skeptically.  

"I haven't killed anyone, but I have sent a few people to the hospital" She crossed her arms and looked at him calmly. 

He blinked, clearly puzzled. The image of Marinette, small and seemingly frail, brutally attacking someone was difficult to process. The idea sent a shiver down his spine that he didn't quite understand, something uncomfortable and strange. 

Lately, everything about her seemed to unsettle his mind, and it frustrated him.  

"Everything okay?" She noticed his expression and raised an eyebrow. 

"It's just hard to imagine you attacking someone, that's all" He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.  

"That's why I always have to be with you outside. People won't believe someone like me can protect you."

 "Have you sent many people to the hospital?" 

"No, not many" She denied, unconcerned "Only once. I was babysitting a very famous rocker and an overly intense fan wanted to get into the hotel. I hurt my arm."

"You hurt your arm and you're still at it" He frowned at that unexpected tidbit of information. 

"It's the only thing I know how to do" She replied simply.  

"We both know that's not true" He retorted.  

The girl looked at him with a slight pout, clearly annoyed at his insistence on attributing talents she didn't think she had. But he didn't relent, convinced that Marinette was more than she herself would admit.  

"And was he tall, taller than you? How do you knock someone down like that?" he continued the round of questions.

"It's easy. You must use precisely their height to your advantage. You must always use your attacker's most dominant characteristic against him" She sketched a small smile, as if explaining something basic.  

The idea of Marinette using her logic against someone bigger and stronger was strangely fascinating. But then his mind wandered off into an unexpected direction, how would she use that against him?  

The thought hit him hard, and for a second, he felt vulnerable. The man averted his gaze, trying to hide the slight blush that threatened to appear. There was something about that combination of strength and subtlety that puzzled him deeply.

He feigned a brief cough and turned slightly, trying to disguise the awkward turn his thoughts had taken. 

"How did you hurt your arm?" He tried to deflect the subject slightly. 

"When I knocked it down, he tried to flee up the stairs. I intercepted him, but it was quite a fall. For a moment, I thought I broke my arm" It was as if she remembered the scene as if it were happening all over again.  

"It doesn't sound like a great anecdote."

"It's part of the job."

"And you wouldn't have to do it. But you still won't tell me why you're working on this. It's...a complicated pattern."

"Why do you keep going on about it?" She gave him an annoyed look. 

"I guess I'm nosy" He smiled slightly, as if he already expected that reaction.  

"Very nosy" She emphasized. 

"Would you fall down the stairs for me?"

"I'd take a bullet for you...and then feel silly for doing it."

Gabriel could barely contain a smile. Though she was gruff in her words, he knew she meant what she said. That conviction, that firmness, was something that puzzled him. 

Marinette had an air of gentleness that belied her attitude and actions, and every time he looked at her, he found more questions than answers.  

"Let's hope we don't go to such extremes." 

"If I didn't have them try to kill him...". 

"You think I asked for this? What do I even like this?" he bellowed "I'm having a fucking meltdown over all this stupidity." 

"That's normal" She blurted out normally "You're not the first client this has happened to, it's like you're a hamster, locked in its cage, you can only roll around on that wheel with no control." 

"Why are you using a hamster to exemplify your example?" 

"It's just an example, I see it all the time."

Gabriel was silent for a few seconds, letting Marinette's words make sense in his mind. A hamster on a wheel. It wasn't an elegant or sophisticated example, but there was something irritatingly true about that comparison.  

"I don't know if I'm more offended by you comparing me to a hamster or that you're right" He admitted defeatedly.

"I'm just telling it like it is, you should use these moments to relax, but, you spend your time working." 

"How do you do it?" He looked at her, resting his chin on his hand. 

"How do I do what?" 

"Relax. You don't seem like the type to drown in a glass of water, although you probably have more reason to do so than I do."

"I guess I don't think about things too much. I just do what I have to do."

"That's a very... shallow answer."

"And what did you expect, deep, philosophical advice?" She rolled her eyes.  

"Maybe. Something worth listening to."

"It wouldn't do any good if you ignored it" She gave him a wry look.  

"Maybe you should be my therapist instead of my bodyguard" He sketched a faint, if somewhat weary smile. 

"I don't get paid enough to put up with your dramas" She snorted, amused. 

Gabriel let out a laugh, and though small, it was the first genuine one in a long time "I think if I pay you enough, I pay more than enough."  

"To take care of you, take hits and bullets for you, not your problems."  

The man frowned slightly at her response, unsure whether to be irritated or surprised. 

"That's extreme" He commented in alarm "Have you been hit very hard?". 

"Something..." She replied in a nonchalant manner. 

He can't believe it. Marinette, with her delicate face and seemingly frail constitution, had she really been through something like this? The idea is difficult for him to process. 

For an instant, his gaze is lost, and memories begin to invade him. Gabriel can't help but think of his own past, of the beatings he also received, of how he had grown up surrounded by violence, drugs and a job that wore him down day after day.  

That's why he left that world behind. That's why he forced himself to mold himself into someone different, someone who could fit into a social circle where appearances and moderation were everything. Where, if you knew how to hit, you were treated like a savage. He remembered it well when he met his wife's parents. That silent judgment in their eyes still haunted him.  

Shaking off those thoughts, Gabriel turns his attention back to the young woman "How did they beat you?" He asked, almost as if he didn't want to push her too hard.  

"Do you want to keep hearing stories about my work?" 

"It's hard to believe" He replied, as if that was the only valid reason for her insistence.  

"It was in a struggle" She began to explain "We lunged at someone and at that moment the guy moved and hit my nose. It left a little mark on me."  

As she spoke, she pointed to a tiny, almost imperceptible mark on her nose, just at the level of her eyebrows. Gabriel tilted his head slightly to get a better look, but it's true; the mark is barely noticeable, and only visible if you look very closely at that part of her face. But actually, that's something you would hardly do, because the most striking thing about Marinette are her eyes.  

Large, of such a clear blue that it seems that in them you can see the reflection of the purest sea. He finds himself staring at her for longer than necessary, and it makes him uncomfortable. It's strange, it's like a precious stone lost in a mud puddle, hidden behind such unglamorous work.  

Suddenly, something seems to ignite in his mind, as if a spark struck him. Gabriel jumped up. 

"I have to go to my room" He blurted out suddenly.

The man got up and started walking toward his room. Marinette got up too and followed him.

Gabriel stopped at the door and turned his head to look at her sideways "Will you wait for me until I get out?". 

"It's my job sir."

"How tedious." 

And with that, he walked into her room, closing the door and leaving her with the word in her mouth. Marinette pursed her lips and pouted involuntarily, showing her discontent. 

Taking care of him first thing in the morning was no easy task. Gabriel had a strange mood, asked intrusive questions, and often made it clear how much he valued himself. Yet somehow, just when he was on the verge of tolerance...inevitably, he would revert to being a complete jerk.

 

---

 

Inside, Gabriel kept a faint smile on his face. It wasn't that he intentionally annoyed Marinette; it just happened. Marinette was somehow the most interesting thing in his life since he was confined to the house. That dynamic, though irritating at times, was an escape from his own monotony.  

He walked toward the bathroom ready to shower. Even if he didn't leave the house, he preferred to work impeccably, taking care of every last detail of his appearance. 

The man closed the door behind him, making sure the sound outside would be muffled. 

In his mind, memories began to well up like an old worn film. Ever since he had started talking to that young woman, his past was coming back to him with a haunting intensity. Before he could keep it buried under routine, but now, it was as if every word she spoke dug up something he had tried to forget.  

For some reason, his gaze dropped to his hands. Her knuckles, once scarred by blood and violence, still showed the scars of her youth, though wrinkles and time had faded them. 

He stared at them for a moment, remembering those days when his control of his emotions was as fragile as glass. A shudder ran through him at the thought of how much blood he had spilled, but immediately, his mind jumped to her.  

To the young woman.  

Her, with her defiant character, her raw stories full of pain and beatings. He didn't blame her for being rough, not after hearing the brutal anecdotes she shared with a naturalness that sometimes unsettled him, what would she tell him tomorrow? Some other terrible story? Something worse, like how she almost lost an arm? Just the thought made him shudder, a cold shudder, of rejection. But what unnerved him most was not that.  

What unsettled him was the other thing, that other tremor.  

Marinette had said, with a certainty that bordered on the threatening, that she would be able to subdue him, to defeat him, if she wanted to. He had wanted to laugh at that statement at the time, but could not. Instead, those words had stuck stuck in his head, echoing like a constant echo. 

"I can subdue you" She had said.  

Gabriel closed his eyes and swallowed saliva, why did he feel that warm shiver every time he remembered those words? It was different from the shiver of distaste from before, more . intimate. He couldn't explain it. Something similar had happened to him, when she shared how she could drift to someone taller than her.

That thought was pounding in his mind, those words caressed his skin roughly and then, he felt it. 

Gabriel felt that twinge between his legs. Again, inevitable, sudden and painful. An erection had suddenly formed in his pants.

The man gritted his teeth in annoyance, letting out a sigh through his nose. He couldn't believe it. Again his body acting like he was a teenager, like he had no control over himself. He knew stress could manifest itself in strange ways, but this... this was already ridiculous.   

Gabriel closed his eyes, resting a hand on the cold wall as he tried to calm himself. But his body would give him no respite, and the pain kept growing, like a burn that demanded immediate attention. 

He hated this. He hated what he was feeling and what it meant. It was a battle between his mind, which was berating him with every passing second, and his body, which kept insisting on his needs.  

The man unzipped his pants, sliding them and his underwear down to his thighs. His erection throbbed with an absurd, unwanted, almost embarrassing urgency.

He had to remind himself which Marinette was out there, and the mere thought that she might hear him filled him with shame. The embarrassment seemed to compete with the relief he sought, like two opposing forces pulling him in different directions.  

He took a deep breath, trying to convince himself that if he did it fast, if he just worked it out, the discomfort would go away. He just had to finish. Nothing more.  

Gabriel took his erection and began to move. The back and forth was dry and methodical. The pleasure was instantaneous, but it wasn't pleasurable. It was mechanical. Forced. Something inside him protested, as if his body and mind were at war.  

He doesn't enjoy it. This is not what he wants.  

He didn't like what he was doing, he had never felt this need before. He had never sought this kind of escape. But something inside him had snapped and now, somehow, he couldn't stop himself from moving forward.

His body trembled, shuddering from the friction. The man felt a spasm run through him, like a whiplash of heat under his skin. His lips parted, and a sound escaped his throat before he could choke it out through gritted teeth. No. He couldn't let them hear it.  

Gabriel closed his eyes, waiting for the sensation to overpower him and drag him to a quick end, but then....  

Marinette appeared in his mind.  

The image was so clear, so sudden, that his hand wavered for a second. His own body, subdued, reduced under the strength of a woman he knew well. Her wrists trapped. His breathing gasped. His eyes fixed on her.  

Why the fuck was he thinking about that?

He swallowed saliva, his jaw tightening. He knew where that image came from, why his brain had constructed it, but that didn't make him feel any better. The worst thing, the truly disturbing thing, was that that image didn't repel him. It didn't frighten him.  

It excited him even more.  

And that, more than anything else, made him feel dirty.

His hand continued to glide over his erection, feeling every vein, every imperfection, every pulsation of his own blood coursing through him. The friction burned, as if his body wanted to betray him, as if it were completely ignoring the revulsion he felt for himself at that moment.  

But his mind was not cooperating. The image was still there. She was still there. And worse was his own body's response to that image. His erection throbbed, firmer, hungrier, as if responding eagerly to the thought.  

No. No. No. No.

How the fuck could he be thinking about her at a time like this? It wasn't fair. Not to him, not to her. He'd never fantasized about anything like this. Their sex life had always been normal, uncomplicated, without... this.

But there he was, with the image stuck in his mind like an indelible tattoo. Him subdued. The young woman on top, dominating him aggressively, why the fuck did that turn him on? 

Gabriel felt the heat rise in his face, a mixture of shame and rage against himself. The idea of visiting a psychiatrist had never sounded so reasonable.  

The man pressed his lips together until they almost hurt, trying to hold back the moans that threatened to escape. He couldn't make a sound. He couldn't let her hear him. He bit his lower lip hard, but his body was still enjoying it.

His erection seemed harder than ever, as if his own body was punishing him with a desire he didn't want to accept. If this kept up, he was going to be like this all damn day.  

Gabriel picked up the pace. His hand moved more roughly, more desperately. He wanted to end it now, to erase that cursed image from his mind, to regain control over himself. His other hand groped for support, finding the sink. He held on tightly, his fingers twitching, the veins in his forearm straining under his skin.  

The sound of his own masturbation became more apparent in the stillness of the bathroom. The man swallowed saliva, praying it was a minimal noise, low enough not to be heard beyond those four walls.  

He thought he was lost until he felt it. A tingle ran through his erection, an icy shiver sliding from his belly to the tip. His body tensed, a spasm shook him from head to toe.  

Orgasm was near. The ordeal was coming to an end.  

Gabriel closed his eyes tightly, clinging to the last shred of control he had left. He couldn't go on like this. He couldn't allow himself to think about this again, about her, about what his mind had fabricated without his permission. 

Him subdued.

Ridiculous. Inconceivable. And yet it had aroused him to the very end.

The orgasm hit him like an electric shock, coursing through his body in involuntary spasms. His breathing became erratic, his chest expanded with one last restrained gasp. He felt his semen escape from the tip of his erection, hot and viscous, falling onto the spotless bathroom floor.  

Her hand continued to move for a few more seconds, milking out every last drop, making sure there was no trace left inside him. His skin was bristling, his body still tense with pleasure, but his mind... his mind was still trapped in guilt.  

This was not right.

However, contrary to what he had expected, there wasn't that same emotional lightness that usually came with shared sex, that sense of connection, of fullness. 

This moment had only served to release what his body had been building up, it left him feeling empty, incomplete. It was not the same. He couldn't compare it to something as complex and meaningful as the act shared with another person. 

The heat that rose to his cheeks was not from the pleasure he had felt, but from the shame, that discomfort that gripped him, Why did he think of that? Why those images? His face, normally impassive, now seemed to burn with the shame that engulfed him.

What he had done now was a simple escape, a physical response to an impulse, without the same deep satisfaction.

The man turned to the bathroom mirror, staring for a moment at his own reflection, trying to find something to anchor him in reality. But there were no answers, only the same empty stare he had had when he walked in. 

It wasn't just the problem of the sudden erections that plagued him lately. It wasn't just the fact that he had been forced to do this in silence, hiding like a teenager in his own house. No. It was that damned image in his head.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Gabriel brought a hand to his face, pressing his closed eyes with his fingers, as if he could erase what his brain had projected without his permission. Was the confinement really affecting him that way? He had assumed he would lose his patience. That he would become paranoid. That the stress would slowly eat away at him.  

But not this.  

Not becoming a fucking sex maniac who fantasized about something like this. Let alone Marinette. 

He let out a snort, a sarcastic, incredulous, humorless laugh. Maybe it was better to stop listening to action stories, those that were always full of undercover agents, power, control... and subjugation.  

The man looked at his flaccid erection, now lifeless, satisfied. As if it had all been worth it. As if it was normal.  

But he didn't feel normal.  

Gabriel discarded the rest of his clothes. Maybe she had stained it a little, but he didn't stop to check. All he did was wipe up the drops of semen on the floor, rubbing with toilet paper as if he were cleaning up a crime scene. 

He didn't have to worry too much because it was his bathroom, no one else would come in but still, the thought of leaving traces made him uncomfortable. As if it was proof of something wrong.  

As if it confirmed that he had crossed a line he should never have crossed.  

Without further ado, the man turned the shower faucet. The hot water fell hard, enveloping the bathroom in steam, slowly dissipating the stiffness from his muscles.  

But not his mind.  

Worst of all, that had been his peak of relief, the way he had achieved what his body demanded. Without that strange image, it probably would have taken much longer. 

Gabriel had to find a solution. He couldn't go on like this. He couldn't take a cold shower every time this happened. He couldn't masturbate just to get rid of an unwelcome erection. Much less if his own mind insisted on bringing the young woman into the equation.  

What the hell could he do?  

Whatever it was, he had to find a way to fix it. Because with his security team watching his every move, any activity out of the ordinary would raise suspicion.  

This was definitely the worst time for someone to try to kill him. 

 

---

  

As Marinette expected, Gabriel came out perfectly dressed and groomed, impeccable as always, but something was wrong. This time, he said nothing. Not a sarcastic comment, not a rude remark, not even a glance in her direction. He simply started walking towards his office, and Marinette followed him, somewhat puzzled.  

The walk was completely silent. Not a word from him, and Marinette didn't dare say anything either. Her pace was quiet as if she had something on her mind or he was too tired to bother talking.  

Why was he so quiet? Gabriel always had something to say, something to annoy her, something to get on her nerves from the first word. But now he seemed completely absent, as if he had forgotten she existed.  

Could he be upset? Perhaps he had been angry at something she had said. But he couldn't be so childish... Couldn't he? Despite everything, she couldn't help but doubt. The man had a fragile ego, she knew that much, but he didn't seem like someone who would just shut down like that either. 

For a moment, the young woman considered asking him if he was okay. But no. That's exactly what he wanted. Surely if she did, he would find a way to turn it around and use it against her.

They were both about to reach Gabriel's office when Renaud caught up with them, interrupting their thoughts, he hurried towards his boss. 

"Sir. I inform you that the officer is here, and wishes to speak with you immediately, I already did what will happen to your office." 

Gabriel nodded, taking the news as calmly as he had shown all morning. The three of them entered the office and just as Renaud had informed, the officer was already waiting for them. 

Gabriel advanced to the lectern, ready to hear what the officer had to say.  

"What's this about?" Gabriel asked, direct as always.  

Before Nooroo could answer, Renaud turned to the girl "Marinette, please wait outside." 

Marinette was surprised, what was the officer going to share with them? So extreme that she was to leave immediately, and unfortunately she was subject to obey.

"Let her stay" Gabriel intervened without raising his voice, but with a certainty that gave no room for protest "Let's get this matter over with, shall we?". 

Renaud did not argue. He only looked at Marinette and gestured for her to stay. The young woman, feeling everyone's gaze on her, walked to one of the corners of the room, staying near the door. It was evident that she was not used to witnessing this type of conversation.  

Nooroo took the floor, focusing again on Gabriel.  

"We already did a thorough investigation on your employees. Cameras, tickets and testimonials made the process much easier. We were able to confirm that all of your employees were in the building, which rules out the possibility that any of them perpetrated the attack."

Marinette kept her composure, but she couldn't help but analyze what the officer was saying. There was something unsettling in the way he spoke, as if he didn't want to reveal everything all at once. Meanwhile, Gabriel listened quietly, with the same serene expression he had had all morning, though his eyes seemed to analyze every word.  

Although her job was to protect him, she couldn't help but feel like an intruder in that conversation. But what really bothered her was something else. His calm, his control. It was as if everything was under an invisible plan that only he understood. 

While Gabriel thought that the officer's statement was good news. It meant that things might start to normalize, didn't it? 

But Nooroo continued.

"So we started with former employees. Their HR team provided us with all the information, which expedited the process. However, there's a problem with one of them."

"Which one?" Gabriel asked, his tone calm but with an obvious note of unease.  

"Which doesn't exist."

For a moment, the air in the room seemed to stop. Both Renaud and Marinette fell silent, clearly shocked, while Gabriel stared at him, incredulous.  

"What do you mean, she doesn't exist?" He asked, his voice reflecting skepticism and annoyance.  

"She has no social security number, birth certificate or official ID. We checked the address provided in the records, but it's false."

Gabriel shook his head, his disbelief growing, "No, that's impossible. Not just anyone works at my company. There is an exhaustive investigation before anyone is hired. How could this possibly happen? I have to protect myself from thieves and impersonators!".

"We didn't even find his alleged employee in any database. We went to the address listed in the records, but it does not belong to that person. We couldn't get a hold of her. This is not a mistake, sir" Nooroo didn't flinch.

Gabriel pursed his lips, clearly trying to process what he was hearing. His security system was practically foolproof. He had designed every layer of filtering and checking to make sure nothing and no one could sneak into his company. Was he being told that someone had circumvented all that?  

"Who is it?" He asked full of authority.  

"Juliette Rousseau." 

The name didn't ring a bell. Gabriel tried to jog his memory, but it was useless. Although that wasn't unusual; he didn't know the names of most of his employees, with exceptions like Nathalie.  

"She worked in advertising, as a model for the brand" Nooroo clarified, but that didn't help. 

Marinette, in the corner, watched intently, trying to keep her countenance neutral, but the situation was very strange. 

"You're telling me they have his picture, and yet they don't know who he is?" 

Nooroo nodded, his expression grave "That wasn't even his real name. The person, whoever she is, doesn't exist. Since she was fired, she hasn't been seen again."

"Fired?" Gabriel asked, now more intrigued than annoyed.  

"Apparently she had an altercation with another employee. There was pushing and shoving and misunderstandings, which led to her immediate dismissal."

Gabriel scrunched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, clearly frustrated. Of course he didn't remember something like this; he couldn't be aware of all the conflicts that went on in his company. Nevertheless, this was no minor incident.  

"And there's no clue as to her whereabouts?" He asked in a calmer but even more authoritative tone.  

"No, sir. So far, it's as if Juliette Rousseau never existed" Nooroo shook his head.  

The man remained silent, processing the words. Marinette watched him out of the corner of her eye from her position, trying to decipher what was going through the man's mind. For the first time in the morning, the man looked puzzled. His usual calmness was affected, although he was hiding it as best he could.  

The security of his system had been questioned, and with it, a dangerous crack in his supposedly perfect environment was beginning to become apparent.

"Don't you remember her? I mean, did you have any mishaps with her? Anything...?". 

Gabriel thinks about it, but he doesn't remember anything. If it happened, he really won't remember; those things didn't used to matter to them. However, his concern lies not in whether or not he met her, but in how she managed to evade his entire security system. It was a possibility he had never contemplated.  

"How was it possible for her to infiltrate without anyone noticing?" He asked, trying to remain calm, though his mind was going a mile a minute.  

"We know Juliette made up that identity. We can't find anything real about her. Why did she do it? We have no idea. And most of all, why would she want to kill him?" 

"I'm not sure" He frowned.

"Relax, Mr. Agreste. We are not yet certain that it is her. The most worrisome thing is that this person is not who we thought it was. We can't rule anything out, but that's the progress we have so far." 

Gabriel's mind kept spinning in circles as he tried to figure it out, how had someone managed to get into his company under a false identity and without arousing suspicion? And if indeed this person, whoever it was, was trying to kill him, what had he done to provoke him?  

His eyes reflexively moved to Marinette. Sure, she had more than one reason to want to hit him after so many things he had said and done. But to kill him...no. Not her.  

What about a former employee of his? Why would anyone do such a thing? How did he manage to infiltrate under a false name, evade every filter, and get a place in her company? It was all so improbable it bordered on the absurd, but here was the truth.  

"We recommend that you do not return to the office for the time being. We do not know how this person was able to infiltrate or how he created an identity so easily. Nor can we be sure that she still looks as you knew her. She could have completely changed her appearance. It would be best for her to remain here, though it is only a recommendation" Nooroo interrupted his chain of thought. 

Gabriel nodded mechanically, but was still thinking about everything he had just heard. A false face. A fake name. An annoying employee who now seemed to want to kill him, though he didn't know why.  

Marinette heard absolutely everything. Although she tried not to show it, she was as shocked as he was. She had dealt with stalkers, extremist fans and people who tried to get too close, but this was something else entirely.  

Gabriel didn't understand anything. And worst of all, for the first time in a long time, he wasn't in control.  

"We'll keep investigating, but we've hit a dead end. Our only suspect doesn't exist. We'll do what we can, but for the time being, stay safe here."

Gabriel nodded again, although he really doesn't know what else to think. He never imagined that the bombing could have such a surreal undertone. The man had always considered the possibility that an employee was behind it, but an employee that didn't exist... that never crossed his mind. Now, the investigation had become complicated to the point where there was no single clear suspect.  

Marinette was also absorbed in her thoughts. Knowing that the suspect could be anyone else made their job that much more complicated. They would have to be more vigilant than ever, especially in public places where anyone could try to approach Gabriel. 

The young woman remembered the times they had left the house; though they were quite few. On any of those occasions, a stranger could have been there, lurking, and neither of them would have been able to avoid it.  

"That's all for now" Nooroo interrupts both of their thoughts "We're sorry we don't have more information, sir. But we'll be in touch."

"Yes... thank you" He replied, in a muffled voice.

Renaud, who had remained silent up to that point, interjects "Could you share with us a photo of the woman? I know there is a possibility that she is no longer the same, but any features could help us.”

"Of course. And be vigilant" He lowers his voice, addressing only Renaud "If she could infiltrate the company, she could also try to do it here."

Marinette, who was close enough to hear those words, feels a shiver run down her spine. The thought of someone managing to sneak into a place with such security was terrifying. Someone had done it before... What was stopping someone else from doing it? But if that woman hadn't acted yet, was she waiting for the perfect moment?  

Nooroo says goodbye to Gabriel and Renaud. The latter escorts him out, leaving the man and Marinette alone in the office, immersed in their own thoughts.  

Gabriel crossed his arms and stared into nothingness without saying a word. The young woman watched him out of the corner of her eye. Although they did not exchange words, they both shared the same feeling; a mixture of frustration and uncertainty.  

The attacker still had no face, no clear motive. And now, with the possibility that this woman could be anyone, the mystery only grew. The girl thinks about the strangeness of it all; someone pretends to be someone else, builds a whole false identity to infiltrate, and then disappears to try to assassinate her boss. None of it made sense.  

Gabriel pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and, he began to dial. Marinette, maintaining her professional posture, says nothing and watches him. As it has been since he left her room, Gabriel seems to continue to ignore her. 

Until someone on the other end of the line answers, it's Nathalie.  

"Really, my boss won't let me rest" She answered with a relaxed tone, which makes Gabriel doubt for a moment if he should really continue with the call. 

However, he knows he has to do it "There was a breakthrough.... Or something" He stated with some discomfort.  

"Did they catch the attacker?" She asked, her tone changing to a more serious one.  

"Do you remember a Juliette Rousseau?" 

On the other end of the line, Nathalie's thoughtful "I don't know, there are so many girls working there.... Not really, was it her?" 

"She's the prime suspect."

A silence settles between the two as Nathalie tries to remember "I think she was one of the models from last season."

"Do you remember her?" He frowned.  

"I remember there was a model.... She was very upset when you put Arleth up to promote the next season. But there were no major problems, at least at first. Although I later learned that she accused another model of pushing her down the stairs. It was a big fight and they ended up firing her."

"Why did they fire her if someone pushed her?". 

"Because she lied" She replied as if it was obvious "Someone happened to see what happened and they found out she had made it all up. Falsely accusing is something that is not tolerated. She was fired immediately."

"Why didn't I hear about it?". 

"Getting upset about a troubled model? That would have been my dismissal, sir. I would never dare do anything like that."

"But if all the trouble was her fault, why would she want to kill me? Because I replaced her? That's normal. All models vary according to the season. You can't put the same model in the fall as you do in the winter. Why would that foolishness lead her to try to murder me?" He let out a frustrated sigh.  

"I don't know if that's her reason. That's what I understand happened - did you catch her?" 

"No, she's obviously hiding" He shook his head, though Nathalie can't see it.  

"Well, at least they know who she is now.”

Gabriel considered telling her the truth, that Juliette Rousseau does not really exist and that everything seems to be an unsolved mystery. However, he decides not to worry her more than necessary. He already feels guilty for calling her, but he had to know what she remembered.  

"Yeah, I guess..." He mumbled "So how are they taking care of you?". 

"It's very boring" She replied trying to sound nonchalant.

"I completely understand you" He mentioned in an attempt to sound empathetic.  

"How are you having it?" 

The man avoids telling her that he's having a horrible time, that the confinement is suffocating him, that dark thoughts are haunting him, that stress and pent-up emotions are wearing him down. 

He even thinks about mentioning the uncomfortable urges that torment him, but decides it's not worth worrying her.  

"Working" He replied at last. 

"You shouldn't work too hard, and especially not without me." 

"Just a little. But you should worry about your recovery."

"I'll be fine" She replied with enough assurance to convince him.  

"Get well soon."

"And you, don't neglect yourself so much."

"I won't. It was nice to say hello to you, Nathalie." 

"It's nice to hear from you sir." 

Although they are not looking at each other, Gabriel can imagine that expression Nathalie surely has at this moment. That same look he saw in the hospital, filled with silent dread, as if she fears this is the last time they will speak. 

That haunting thought settles in his mind, the man can't help but wonder if his assistant's fear has any basis in fact.  

"Goodbye, Nathalie" He whispered softly, before hanging up.  

Gabriel put his cell phone in his pocket and sighed deeply. The air around him seems to become thicker, and his mind keeps spinning in the tangle of information he has received in the last few hours.  

Marinette says nothing. She remained in place, watching him discreetly. The young woman knows that he has lied to Nathalie. That facade of normality he displayed during the call is a blatant lie, but she has no right to judge him. 

She understands, to some extent, why he did it. Nathalie is hurt, and she's done her part. Now it's their turn to take care of Gabriel, to protect him from someone who has no face.  

Without a word, Gabriel turned on his screen and began to work. It's his way of escaping, of diverting his attention from the chaos around him. The data and tasks are much simpler than the uncertainty that consumes him.  

A new question begins to form in the young woman's mind, is he upset with her? For hours now, Gabriel has barely spoken to her, and this strange behavior does not cease to disturb her.

At the same time, Gabriel searches his mind, trying to find something, some memory, any clue about this Juliette Rousseau. But his memory feels like an empty labyrinth.

 

---

 

Marinette never realized how boring her job was until Gabriel stopped talking to her. 

It was as if she were a statue in a museum, a neglected old statue that no one cared for or looked at. When she finished her shift, her legs burned, a pain she hadn't felt in a long time, as if she had carried an unbearable weight for hours. As soon as she had the chance, she went to the garden, lit a cigarette and let out a long sigh.  

The young woman should be worrying about who wanted to kill him, about how to protect Gabriel from an unseen threat. But no, her mind was caught up in something as stupid as the fact that he wasn't talking to her.  

It's not her job to figure out who wants to kill him; she's not a cop. Her only responsibility is to look out for him. But how do you protect someone from an attacker who could be anyone? They couldn't keep him locked up forever. Eventually, Gabriel would have to get out, and with that, the risk would increase. But what gnawed at her most was not the threat, but the silence.  

Why wasn't she talking to him?  

Did she say something that upset him? He was being a jerk as usual, and she simply responded as she always did. He had no right to be angry. However, she couldn't get that strange behavior out of her head. 

Was it some kind of evil plan? No, she couldn't think like that. The young woman is starting to come up with absurd theories, as if it's all part of some kind of mind game. She needs to calm down. Her brain needs to stop. It's always been her problem; overthinking things.  

But in this job, she can't afford that. In her line of work, he who hesitates loses. And who loses, dies.  

Marinette puts the cigarette to her lips and inhales deeply. The nicotine calms her nerves a bit, but not her mind. Her mind is her worst enemy. 

Every time she tries to search for answers, her brain presents her with infinite possible scenarios, and they all end in disaster. Now, the attacker could be anyone, and that puts her on the verge of a breakdown.  

Are they even prepared for something like this?  

The more she thinks about it, the more she thinks not. 

 

---

 

Marinette thought about it carefully. She believed Gabriel's silence was part of some evil plan of his, although she had no clear explanation for his behavior. But she could not allow it. 

The young woman had already told her that they had to trust each other. If that mysterious employee decided to attack, he had to trust them to save him, and they had to trust him to obey every command. Trust was the key.  

He had been in a similar situation before, and his life was saved by just that; trust. So, if she had to make the first move, she would do it no matter what.  

Her plan was to wait until Gabriel came down for lunch and then ask to speak to him privately. But her chance went up in smoke when she was informed that he would be eating in her room. She thought about saving it for tomorrow, since she would have the first watch of the day and could talk to him then. But then she reconsidered.  

Letting it go was not the answer. Perhaps he was hoping just that, that she would talk to him the next day so he could make himself important. No, she wouldn't allow it.  

Without further thought, Marinette headed for her room. Leroy was already at the door, keeping watch. Marinette wasn't one to brag about her lying skills, but she had to admit she was good at it. And if a lie would allow her to talk to Gabriel, she would use it without hesitation.  

Marinette approached the door with a serious expression "I must go in for a moment, I have a message for Mr. Agreste.”

"So important that it can't wait until tomorrow?" Leroy looked at her curiously. 

"If I wait until tomorrow, he'll throw it in my face."

Leroy didn't argue. Everyone knew how insufferable Gabriel could be, so she simply nodded and he allowed her to enter. Marinette advanced unannounced.  

As she closed the door behind her, she realized the room was empty. There was no sign of Gabriel. Her eyes swept the place quickly, where the hell was he?  

For a second, she thought about checking the bathroom, but dismissed the idea immediately. She had fallen into that trap once before. She wasn't about to go through the embarrassment of barging in while he was inside again.  

The girl took a deep breath, go out and knock again as if she had never gone in? No, that would look stupid in Leroy's eyes.  

So she decided to stand still and wait for him to come out. 

And so it happens. Within seconds, Gabriel emerges from the bathroom, wrapped in his robe. He's not wet, but his skin is still damp from the recent bath. His hair is the only thing completely soaked, and water drips from the strands of his hair, sliding down his neck.  

The first thing he does upon seeing her is frown.  

"What the fuck are you doing here, didn't they say my room would be private?". 

"I came to tell you something quick and I'll leave" Marinette crossed her arms, trying not to be intimidated by his tone.  

"Couldn't it wait until tomorrow? Besides, you came in without my giving you permission. Can't you see how I am?" he exhaled in annoyance. 

Marinette blinked, sensing something didn't fit. She'd seen him that morning and she's sure he'd already showered, why was he showering again? None of her business, she decides, and she shakes her head to get back to the point.  

"I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"What the hell are you apologizing for?" He frowned even more, this time in confusion.  

"I don't know if I said something improper or if I was too hard on you... I just wanted to apologize."

Gabriel looked at her as if she had said the dumbest thing in the world "You should go. I'm going to pretend I never heard those words."

"You don't accept my apology?" she looked at him, incredulous.  

"No."

"May I know why?" 

"Because I don't want your apology. I don't want any kind of apology from you" He sighed, running a hand through his wet hair.  

Marinette doesn't know how to react to that, she expected to even have to humiliate herself, but he simply shut down that possibility. 

"Do you know why you're the only person I talk to?" Gabriel suddenly spoke up.

"Because you want to tease me about what I said on the first day."

"No, are you still thinking that nonsense? It's because you have a temper. No matter how much I say, you always raise your voice, you don't bend. It's an attitude I value too much in a person, and I don't want you to apologize for being like that."

Marinette felt her heart flip slightly, but ignored it "I wasn't apologizing for being like that."

"Then what the fuck are you apologizing for?". 

"Because you didn't talk to me all day. I thought he was upset, offended...what do I know." 

"You think your dumb words could have offended me? You're smart, very smart, but sometimes so... clueless."

Marinette felt a heat of anger rise in her neck. She doesn't know if she wants to yell at him because he is insulting her or because he really thinks too much of himself.

"Let's pretend you never apologized, that you didn't say all that nonsense, okay?" 

"Agreed" She relented with a sigh "But then, why didn't you talk to me?" 

"I thought it bothered you."

The young woman frowned. That didn't make any sense. He seemed to like annoying her, enjoyed irritating her at every opportunity. But now, he was playing innocent?  

"You wouldn't do me such a favor."

"Why don't you just ask me to talk to you?" he smirked.   

"No. You would do me a great favor."

"Well, if that's what you want, you should go now."

Marinette looked at him for a moment. It's a challenge. And she's not going to bend. Not again. So she spun on her heels and walked out the door without another word. But cursing internally.  

This wasn't what was supposed to happen, how was there supposed to be trust if they were in this absurd game? But her pride, once again, has won out. The young woman is not going to bend twice. 

It was embarrassing enough to have gone to apologize and that apology will be forgotten.  

It will be a problem for later. Always one inconvenience at a time.  

Inside the room, Gabriel couldn't help but smile. If she had folded again, he would have been so disappointed.  

The man has to admit that her attitude brings him a certain familiarity, one he misses as much as he adores.  

But he must be honest with himself. That wasn't the reason he stopped talking to her.  

That image trapped in his mind would not leave him alone.  

The recent bath proved it.  

Gabriel was anxious to get out of his house, but with the new news, that seems further and further away.

Notes:

It is impossible to list the many things that happened here.

But I think Juliette Rousseau's identity is clearer to you than it is to them.

As I have clarified, I had already written a backstory for Gabriel and although Werepapas made me want to backtrack, that story will stay.

Don't waste water like Gabriel.

Thank you!

Chapter 7: Half-truths are always heavy.

Summary:

Marinette and Gabriel end one battle without starting another, Gabriel is still dealing with his little problem, but in an attempt to control himself, he ends up uncovering some of the truth.

The next day began with the same intensity with which a soldier would prepare for battle. Marinette rose early, even earlier than usual, and began her routine with almost military precision.

She showered quickly, the hot water cleared the last traces of sleep from her body, she groomed herself with the meticulousness of someone getting ready to face a challenge, and went down to breakfast. It wasn't just another day. There was something in the air, a tension that carried over from the night before, and she wasn't about to let up.  

Meanwhile, in another room, Gabriel began his own morning routine. As usual, the first thing he noticed when he woke up was his usual problem, a persistent erection that seemed to have no regard for the situation he was in. 

The man snorted in annoyance before getting up and heading for the bathroom. The cold water helped him clear his mind, though the feeling of discomfort still lingered. He dressed smartly, as always, and left his room.

When their gazes met in the hallway, neither of them uttered a single word. There were no greetings, no friendly gestures, no trace of the previous night's conversation. They simply both looked at each other, gauging the invisible distance that had formed between them. Then Gabriel started walking toward the dining room, and Marinette, as was her duty, followed him without question.  

He sat down at the table with the intention of eating breakfast in peace, but as soon as he noticed that the young woman did not sit with him, his jaw tensed. He knew. She was doing it on purpose. 

Marinette stood at a safe distance with her arms crossed and her gaze fixed on him. He pressed his lips tightly together, refusing to give her the satisfaction of saying anything first.  

It was absurd, but there they were; in the middle of a silent duel, waiting to see which of the two would give in first.  

The man tried to concentrate on his food, but each bite felt heavier in his mouth. He could feel her gaze piercing the back of his neck, like a burning laser. The girl, for her part, didn't look away for a second. She wasn't interested in what he was eating, or even what he was doing with the silverware. She was just waiting, waiting for him to break that tense silence before she did.  

Gabriel's discomfort increased. Something in his stomach began to twist, it wasn't exactly hunger or even anxiety, it was... irritation. Every time he looked up to find something to distract himself with, he would find her lingering shadow standing behind him, watching him.  

She was enjoying this. He knew it.  

Gabriel finished his meal without much enthusiasm, pushing the plate aside before getting up. He walked wordlessly toward his office, and Marinette followed, always a step behind, as if they were in a rehearsed choreography.  

Arriving at his office, the man went to the lectern and began to work, pretending that nothing unusual had happened. But Marinette didn't move too far. She positioned herself in the farthest part of the office, staying in his field of vision, ready to continue with her strategy.  

A battlefield where the weapons were not bullets, but pride.  

Gabriel tried to concentrate on the designs in front of him, on the emails that required his attention, on anything that would take him away from that constant feeling of being watched. But the young woman was not willing to give up.  

It was a game of endurance, and they were both determined to win. 

The more time passed, the more bored they both became. He tried to work, but his fingers, though resting on the big screen, did not move. He felt unable to concentrate with the young woman staring at him, as if she were trying to read his thoughts.

It was disturbing. Every time he looked up from the screen, there she was, watching him relentlessly, without even blinking.  

Marinette was fed up too. This job, for the most part, was monotonous; watching, watching and waiting for something to happen. And though she was using her strategy to annoy him, she was beginning to find it boring even to herself.

The girl was watching him, yes, but not because she was really interested in what he was doing, but because it was now a challenge between the two of them, an absurd game of stamina. But why the hell had she initiated it in the first place?

It had all started because she tried to get along decently with him, and now they were stuck in this childish dynamic, weren't they supposed to be adults? Couldn't they both behave like adults?  

She wondered how much longer this nonsense would last when suddenly the silent battle was interrupted by Renaud's entrance.  

The man entered and headed straight for Gabriel.  

"Excuse me, sir" He announced in his usual formal tone "There's a woman to see you. It's Nathalie, do you have time to see her?" 

Gabriel, for an instant, felt surprised, then instantly offended.

"Why do you ask me? Send her in" He replied with an expression of disbelief.  

"She requested me to ask you if I didn't disturb you" Renaud explained patiently.  

That sounded so much like Nathalie. 

"Excuse me. Send her in" He sighed, putting aside his irritation.  

Renaud nodded and left the office. A few seconds later, Nathalie entered, her arm held in a black sling supporting her injured limb. 

She looked better than she had in the hospital. Her skin was no longer pale and lifeless, color had returned to her cheeks, and, except for the sling, she looked almost normal.  

"What are you doing here?" he questioned immediately "Shouldn't you be resting?". 

"I felt better and couldn't be at ease." 

"You didn't have to come. You could call me" He frowned. 

Marinette, from her position, watched them intently, feeling more intrigued than she would like to admit.

"I hear you can't go to the company yet, are you working from here?" 

"Something like that."

"You should have someone to help you. I know someone" She offered. 

"I'd rather not have to. I'm fine, really" He shook his head immediately. 

Nathalie exhaled, crossing her healthy arm over her waist as the other rested in the sling.  

"I'd hate for my fault to hold up all your work."

"Stop saying that" He gave her a serious look, as if annoyed that she even thought about it "You saved me. I should be sorry for that."

"Work never rests" She smiled thinly.  

"You should" He insisted "I assure you it's all right."

There was a brief silence before, as if Nathalie was waiting for him to speak, and Gabriel was waiting for the same.   

"Is something wrong?" She blurted out. 

"Other than someone wanting to kill me? Nothing else."

Nathalie lowered her gaze and then turned it to Marinette, who continued to stand in the corner of the office.  

"Your security team was somewhat... intrusive in letting me in."

Marinette caught the pair of glances Nathalie gave her. She didn't say anything, but she didn't look away either.  

"I hope they are. You paid them a lot for that" Gabriel instead shrugged with a slight wry smile. 

"And why didn't they let you go back to the office?”

"Will you blame them for the inefficiency of the police? The police have my company."

Nathalie sighed, as if she were entirely convinced "Because Harry has been coming to see me?". 

Gabriel tensed barely, though he disguised his discomfort well. He hadn't expected her to bring it up so soon. He had asked Harry to take care of her, but he didn't think he wouldn't be discreet.  

"I told him what happened and he's worried. He comes here a lot. He won't let me work."

Marinette raised an eyebrow. She had been present at some of those visits and knew Gabriel was lying. Why was he doing it? She didn't know, but it wasn't her job to pry either.  

"What he gave me...tells me things are not good at all" She paused, as if weighing her words "I can come back."

"No, of course not" He reacted immediately "You're not recovered yet and you've done too much already".

"Emilie asked me to take care of you" She pursed her lips. 

Marinette felt a slight shiver run down her spine. The mention of Gabriel's wife made everything feel even more personal, more intimate. This was a conversation she shouldn't be listening to.  

Gabriel didn't respond right away. Her eyes darkened, he paused for a few minutes until he came to. 

"And you did. But I'm sure she'd want you to take care of yourself, too. You were her friend, after all."

"I am your friend. Your assistant. Your bodyguard. And someone who doesn't want to see you dead."

The man was silent, looking at her with an expression that was hard to decipher. Marinette for her part, wished she wasn't there. 

"It won't happen, why is everyone suddenly imagining the worst-case scenario?" He sighed, running a hand through his hair in obvious frustration. 

"This is all..." She gestured with her free hand, taking in everything around her "Someone trying to kill you, the police failing to find that person, you handing me the rings... You'd never take them off if you didn't know the situation was serious."

"It's just precautionary."  

"Emilie died. I don't want to be the person to bury them both" She shook her head, her expression hardening. 

Marinette not only felt like an intruder in this conversation, but she didn't fully understand what was going on.

If Nathalie were a more sentimental woman, she would probably be crying at that moment, but instead, she was there, steady as a rock, looking at him earnestly and telling him bluntly how important he was to her.  

And that was the most amazing thing.  

Gabriel was an idiot. An arrogant, self-important, proud and conceited one. Yet Marinette had already seen at least two people shudder at the thought of losing him, Why, what did they see in Gabriel that she didn't?  

Gabriel resumed the conversation, with an expression that let it be seen that he was also grappling with his own thoughts.  

"You don't have to. You won't. I'm... I'm trying hard. They're trying hard."  

"They can't take care of you forever inside these walls and you know it" She kept her gaze on him, 

"I know that. But they will keep me alive. To them, this isn't a game. They would give their lives for me" He pursed his lips.  

Nathalie then turned her face to Marinette "Is that true?". 

"I'd take a bullet for him" Marinette didn't even hesitate in answering, her voice was direct and cold.  

Nathalie studied her for a moment. She didn't need pretty words or empty promises. She needed to know with certainty that Gabriel would be protected. His condition made it difficult for her to be there, but if she had to leave, she needed to leave with the peace of mind that someone else would watch over her friend.

She had already said it. Burying one friend was horrible. Burying two...she didn't even want to think about it.  

Gabriel watched her silently before turning to Marinette and speaking with complete assurance.  

"Marinette may look plain, but she's talented. And I trust her completely. I know she will keep me safe until the end."

Nothing in his words was a lie.  

Yes, he and Marinette didn't have the best of relationships. And yes, he may have been lying to Nathalie about the other bodyguards. But what he wasn't lying about was his trust in Marinette.  

And for him, that was enough.

"Don't ever lie to me again on a call, or I'll be back."

Marinette couldn't help but be surprised-how had she known? She hadn't been present, she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, but still, Nathalie had known.  

Nathalie had known, that Gabriel was hiding something from her, how had she noticed? She could read him so well despite the distance?

Gabriel sighed and ran a hand over his face, as if he was tired of arguing, but at the same time he understood that he couldn't fool her.  

"I want you to get well" He stated "So that when this is over, we can get on with our lives."

"I also need you to do some thinking about yourself."

Marinette felt those words echoing in her head. Everyone was saying that Gabriel had survived the attack by luck, that maybe it just wasn't his time, that fate or some other nonsense had saved him. But she, who had seen it with her own eyes, understood the truth much more clearly.  

It wasn't luck.  

It was trust.  

If Gabriel had hesitated a second, if Nathalie had not acted without hesitation, he would have died. And that changed everything.  

Gabriel had to trust her.  

That circle of trust was what could make the difference between life and death.  

Nathalie and Gabriel did not embrace. They didn't even shake hands. And yet, the trust between them was palpable, strong like an unbreakable bond. Marinette understood that this was what she should aspire to build with him.  

She did not lie to Nathalie.  

If the time came, she would take one, two, three bullets for Gabriel. But more importantly, she had to make sure she never came to need him.  

Nathalie looked at her again. There was nothing in her expression to give him a clue as to what she was thinking, no hidden message. 

"I appreciate it."

That was already two people telling her the same thing, was Gabriel really that important to them?  

The three of them were completely different people, yet there they were, united by the same feeling; the fear of losing a friend.  

"Don't thank me yet" She looked at Nathalie. 

Nathalie seemed to approve of the answer. Her expression changed slightly, just a hint of satisfaction at the corner of her lips.  

"Marinette, as assertive as ever." 

Gabriel's comment was clearly directed at her.  

And with that, the absurd war of silence between the two ended.  

There were no winners and no losers.  

They had both won.

 

---

 

After Nathalie left, Gabriel had no intention of returning to work. Instead, he went out into the garden, and Marinette followed him. 

The fresh air was different out there. The wind moved gently, the leaves rustled in the breeze, and the sun illuminated the scene. There was something about that place that invited rest, silence... perhaps reflection.  

Gabriel plopped down on the stairs leading to the garden. For the first time in a long time, he seemed to want to relax.  

Marinette standing behind him, watched him, he turned his head slightly to look at her.  

"Do you want to sit down? My neck will hurt from turning to look at you" His tone was relaxed, without the usual sarcasm, almost as if he found it hard to admit that he would rather see her than have to ignore her.  

But Marinette wasn't going to let him win that easily. 

"What do you want to see me for?" 

"Forget it" He let out a slight sigh.

The truth was, he already missed talking to her. It was ridiculous, considering their silly war of silence had barely lasted a day, but he couldn't deny it. He liked talking to her.  

So now that that absurd quarrel was over, he decided to simply act as if nothing had happened. If she cooperated, that is.  

And though it took a while, she did. Unhurriedly, she walked to the stairs and sat down, keeping a safe distance between them.  

The man gave her a sidelong glance but it was she who broke the silence.  

"Do you employ your friends?". 

He took a second to answer "Nathalie was my friend long before she was my employee. We... were friends."

Marinette didn't know what to say, she still felt she had overheard a conversation that didn't belong to her. But Gabriel continued, not giving her time to respond.  

"When my wife died, Nathalie decided to work with me. She stayed with my son and me...and she hasn't left my side."

"She appreciates that."

"I know."

"She has a son. A successful career. Friends. People who really appreciate him..." She averted her gaze to the garden "And you don't seem to want to live."

Gabriel was silent for a moment, as if processing her words. Or he thought of the best response 

"When my wife died, I tried to figure out how to go on without her" He paused "I'm still trying."

"Nothing an assassination attempt won't change." 

Gabriel looked up and, for the first time all day, he actually smiled and then he laughed. It wasn't a polite or forced laugh, but a genuine laugh, as if that absurd comment had caused him more amusement than it should have.  

"I had to almost die to see that actually my death would affect anyone" He admitted, still with a smile "But I don't want you to die for me. I don't want anyone to."

"I didn't say I'd die for you" She replied without hesitation "I just said I'd take a bullet for you."

The man let out a small laugh, softer this time, almost amused "Not that either" He pointed out with a smile "Blood is hard to take away". 

"I know" She said it as if it was a regular experience "But I don't wear designer clothes".

Gabriel laughed again, it was amazing, how long had he been ignoring Marinette? Whatever...  

He wouldn't do it again.

 

---

 

Gabriel's days became unbearably boring when Marinette's shift ended.  

The other guys guarding him were... irrelevant. Colorless. Lacking any spark of interest.  

Sometimes he would watch them, considering the absurd idea of talking to them, maybe making some casual comment. But the very thought was so insulting to him that he dismissed it immediately.  

They were not worth the trouble.  

They were so vapid that trying to engage them in conversation seemed like punishment. So, without much to do, he decided to get into the bathtub.  

The warm water surrounded him, bubbles floating on the surface, slowly melting against his skin. The scent of lavender and mint permeated the air, soothing, almost sedative.  

Gabriel leaned back on the edge of the tub, letting his head rest, eyes closed. He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the soothing scent of the water.  

For an instant, the man allowed himself to think that he might actually relax. But then, as if his own body was taunting him, his penis took on a life of its own.  

Without warning. Without provocation. Awakening as if it had a will of its own. Gabriel let out a frustrated snort.  

It was ridiculous.  

Some men his age struggled to get erections. And he... he looked like a teenager in the throes of puberty, his body betraying him at the most inopportune moments.  

An absurd erection, sudden, for no reason, how much longer would he continue like this? Was there no such thing as andropause for him? Or would he be condemned to live with his body torturing him on a whim?  

He remained in the water, motionless, letting the heat relax his muscles. All but one. That particular muscle refused to cooperate. 

There it was. Firm, proud, as if defying him, pointing to the surface as if demanding attention. The water gently massaged it with every slight movement, making the situation even more uncomfortable.  

And yet, Gabriel refused to give in.  

Not this time. Not after what he'd been through last time. He wasn't in the mood, was he doomed to become an idiot who masturbated every time his body demanded it? The very idea repulsed him.  

Is that what he had become?  

A man trapped in his mansion, with nothing better to do than give in to his urges like a caged animal. And all because of an annoying maid.  

If only he could get out, if only he had his freedom, all that would end. The routine was driving him crazy. Confinement was feeding that physical torment and he was sure freedom would cure it.  

But in the meantime, there was his member, firm, rigid, as if brazenly defying him, demanding attention, waiting to be attended to as he thought it deserved.  

And Gabriel was determined to ignore it, no matter how much the water caressed his skin and how much his body begged him to give in, he would not.  

He closed his eyes tightly and tried with all his might to relax, to calm down, to master himself, he had to win this battle with himself or it wouldn't be long before he lost his sanity. 

The water was starting to become warm, and it enveloped his skin, caressing him as gently as a trembling hand, which for him, was not a relief. It was torture.

The man kept his eyes tightly closed, as if by squeezing his eyelids he could also shut his thoughts, he tried to take a deep breath, to let the heat relax him, to let the discomfort dissipate, but it was not enough.  

His erection was throbbing, demanding attention with a dull, throbbing pain that made him frown. An annoying throbbing, as if his body was screaming at him that he was betraying it, that he was denying it. But he would not give in.  

The water was playing against him.

When some warmer current brushed against his skin, his crotch reacted with an involuntary spasm, a treacherous impulse that made him clench his fists underwater.

Every liquid caress was a provocation. It was as if the water was bent on tormenting him, sliding gently around his member with slow, harmless, but perversely constant movements.  

The pain was growing, tense, throbbing, as if someone was squeezing his erection with their fingers, reminding him of their presence, their pulsing. He could no longer ignore, could no longer pretend she wasn't there. And instead of giving in to his urges, he surrendered to the water.  

Gabriel sat up abruptly, stepping out of the tub. Water gushed off his body, splashing onto the floor. The drops slid down his skin, running down his chest, his abdomen, and down to his thighs, where they mingled with the moisture dripping from his erection. He felt ridiculous.

The man reached for the towel with an impatient gesture, and began to dry himself hurriedly, almost violently, avoiding at all costs touching the sensitive area. The slightest touch would be granting him the attention he demanded so much, and that wasn't going to happen. Not if he could help it.  

The cotton of his towel ran down her chest, her arms, her neck, but her crotch remained untouched, deliberately ignored. When he was done, he put on the bathrobe, tightening it with a firm knot, as if to enclose his own frustration under the fabric.  

He opened the bathtub plug and watched the water spiral downward, as if dragging her frustration with it. But the twinge between his legs was still there, present and persistent.  

Gabriel stepped out of the bathroom, barefoot, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the wooden floor. He didn't have the strength to get dressed. He just wanted to sleep. If he couldn't relax, he could at least try to escape into unconsciousness. But every step was uncomfortable, the rubbing of the fabric against his skin made his erection throb more. It ached. 

He dropped heavily onto the bed, but even then he couldn't ignore his penis. The pain grew sharper, as if the pressure against the mattress only made it more evident.  

"Shit" He muttered to himself, mumbling through his teeth, rubbing his temple with his hand, as if the pain in his head could distract him from the other pain.  

And a crazy idea came to his mind. A quick fix. A way out. He wasn't going to give in to his body. He wasn't going to masturbate like a teenager with no self-control. No. He would deal with it in his own way.  

The man stood up abruptly, walked to the door and half-opened it. Leroy stood there, a few paces away with his hands behind his back, watchful.   

"Leroy" He called out to him. 

The man spun around immediately, attentive "Can I get you anything, sir?" 

"I need you to go to the kitchen and get me a bottle of alcohol" He ordered. 

The bodyguard frowned slightly, not because of the request itself, but because he couldn't move from his post. It was his job not to leave him alone.

"Sir, I can't abandon my position." 

Gabriel clenched his jaw. He didn't want to argue. He wasn't in the mood.

"You're not five minutes late." 

But Leroy shook his head, adamant "Sir, I'm sorry. I can't. I'll ask someone to bring her in." 

Gabriel rolled his eyes in exasperation, glaring at him as if to pierce him.  

"All right, ask for it. But make it quick" He relented "And don't let anyone bother me." 

Gabriel didn't give her time to respond. He slammed the door in her face and he just stood there, back against the door, breathing hard. The pain still throbbed, but at least now he had a plan.  

The old method, or rather, the coward's method, get drunk to forget, to ignore, to sleep, how many times had he done it in the past? He didn't even know if it would work now, with the hot blood still roaring in his crotch, but he would do it.  

He would drink until the pain went away, he would drink until his own body obeyed him, he would drink until the damn erection gave up.

Time was becoming unbearable.

The kitchen was not far away; the bottle was not under lock and key, and yet it seemed like hours had passed. The waiting made him desperate, but he didn't know if it was the thirst for alcohol or the throbbing discomfort between his legs, which kept demanding attention with painful twinges.  

When at last he heard the soft knock on the door, he exhaled sharply, not having realized he had been holding his breath. He strided toward the door with a frown and a clenched jaw.  

Gabriel barely ajar the door, just enough to receive the bottle, but not to make it more visible than necessary. His steady hand clutched the robe around his waist, covering himself thoroughly, especially the lower part, the one he didn't want to expose.  

But when he saw who was on the other side, the air he had released in relief caught in his throat again.    

What the fuck was Marinette doing there?

For a second, the man stood mute, staring at her face with bewilderment etched on his forehead. His lips parted, but he made no sound. His brain and tongue refused to connect.

"Do you have a private party in there?" She asked slyly, raising an eyebrow, with a barely perceptible smile.  

The teasing jolted him, awakening his wit just as quickly as he'd lost it.  

"Bodyguard, psychologist, and now nanny?" He spat, with a biting half-smile "You have quite a versatile background, Marinette." 

The young woman didn't flinch. She held his gaze with that defiant impudence so typical of her, as if she was in no hurry to leave.  

"It's only natural" She replied with feigned politeness "When I'm disturbed at my leisure." 

He clenched his jaw, of course he knew, she was on her break. Despite that, she was there, intruding, again.

"Are you tied to your room?" She asked with apparent casualness, but her eyes scanned him intently.

He clicked his tongue, tired of the exchange "You blame me? It's the one place you guys don't intrude."

"Will you still throw a tantrum about that?" her tone pricked him in pride. The cynical smile she sketched was automatic, almost cruel.  

"Will you keep meddling in my life?" he spat.

The words hit her with surgical precision. For an instant, the defiant spark in her eyes faded, as if she recognized that he was right. She was meddling too much. And she didn't know why she was doing it. But she was.

Without another word, Marinette held out the bottle, holding it in one hand, in the other, she carried a glass.

He frowned at the sight of the glass. He hadn't asked for one. Gabriel looked suspiciously, wondering if she suspected something. His eyes bore into hers, trying to decipher what the hell she was thinking. But his expression was indecipherable, as if she herself didn't know whether she should question him or not.  

Not wanting to prolong the interaction, he took the glass from her hand roughly, but without aggression. He received it good-naturedly. 

"Thank you and don't bother me." 

The man didn't wait for a response. He slammed the door shut, almost in the young woman's face, as if he needed to get rid of her as quickly as possible. 

Gabriel stood in front of the door, breathing heavily with the bottle in one hand and the glass in the other. His chest was rising and falling heavily, as if he had just fought a fight.  

He turned, walking over to the nightstand, where he set the glass down awkwardly. He didn't even look at it, he didn't want a glass, he hadn't asked for one and he didn't need one.  

The man ran his tongue over his dry lips, as if he could already taste the alcohol, as if the burning in his throat was preferable to the discomfort in his body.  

He unscrewed the cap with a sharp movement, dropped it without caring where. He brought the bottle to his lips and drank straight from it.

The liquid seared his throat, going down with an almost painful heat, but he didn't flinch, he drank again and again and again. 

The glass remained untouched, forgotten on the table. He didn't need a fucking glass. He would do it his way. Alone.

 

---

 

Marinette stood, outside the room, waiting, waiting... and waiting. 

She leaned with her shoulder against the wall, her arms crossed and her brow slightly furrowed, tilting her head every now and then towards the door, hoping to hear some sound from the other side.  

But there was nothing, not a sound. She let out a long sigh. It had been a while now, too long even.

He was supposed to have gone out by now, or at least made some noise; a step, a snort, a frustrated curse.

But nothing, would it be another one of those days? One of those where he would shut himself away, drowning in his own misery, refusing to face the world.  

The young woman pursed her lips, she was still upset about last night, she had been until she remembered the bottle, the last time she had seen him, he had been left alone with a bottle of alcohol.

And now, it wasn't coming out.

Her chest tightened with a dull unease, she couldn't stay out there anymore. Without knocking, she turned the doorknob and entered. 

The room was in semi-darkness, almost as if it were still night. The thick curtains were still closed, preventing the morning light from illuminating the place.  

Marinette squinted, trying to get used to the darkness. Her steps were cautious, fearing she would trip over something on the floor. Her foot brushed against the corner of a chair, but she didn't lose her balance.  

The young woman advanced a little further, feeling the air with her hands, until her fingertips hit the edge of the bed, she exhaled softly. At least she now had a point of reference.

She slid her hands down the quilt fabric, guiding herself to the window, she pulled the curtain back just a few inches, just enough to let a ray of light tear through the darkness.

Then she saw him.

Gabriel was lying on the bed, face up, as if dead. One arm stretched out to one side, the other slumped plumbly to the opposite side. His naked torso rose and fell slightly with each breath, his chest exposed to the light revealing the line of muscles that contracted as he inhaled.  

His disheveled hair, messy and plastered to his forehead, gave him an almost vulnerable look, as if the night had swept him away. 

Marinette approached, holding her breath. She reached out gingerly and rested her hand on his shoulder, she shook slightly.

The man grunted in annoyance, but it didn't take him long to open his eyes, barely a single one. Immediately, he shut it tightly, letting out a harsh groan and covering his eyes with his hand, as if the light was unbearable to him.  

"Did you do it on purpose?" he muttered, his voice hoarse, pasty, laden with a hangover.  

"Sir, are you all right?" She bowed her head with a dry smile.

She was not a vindictive person, but, at times, she could be quite cruel. Gabriel frowned, uncovering his eyes.  

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he blurted out in a raspy voice "Why are you bothering me?" his voice was hoarse, rough, laden with anger... and weakness.  

"It's too late now. He hasn't made a single noise for hours" She crossed her arms, hardening her gaze "I had to make sure he was okay." 

Gabriel pulled his hand away from her eyes just enough to glare at her, his pupils constricted, irritated by the light. Her forehead throbbed, as if someone was hammering it from the inside.  

"Close the curtain" He mumbled in a deep voice "Too much light is coming in." 

Marinette looked at him in disbelief, the light was barely a faint glimmer, illuminating only part of the bed.  

"Really?" She mentioned wryly.  

"Fuck yeah" He blurted out, voice strained, barely a hung-over growl "What's wrong with you?" He growled, rolling over on his side. 

"What's wrong with you? There's hardly any light coming in" She frowned.

The man clenched his jaw, letting out a low groan, covering his eyes again.  

"Not so fucking hard...". 

That shut her up, for a moment Marinette stopped teasing him, but she didn't stop watching him, she turned her head slowly towards the nightstand.

The young woman studied what she saw, the untouched glass, and next to it, the empty bottle. Marinette's expression hardened. Her chest tightened with anger.  

"I thought we talked about this." 

Gabriel opened one eye lazily, looking at her with mock confusion "Talked about what?" he blurted out in a gruff voice.  

She pointed to the empty bottle, her gaze cold and stern.

"I thought you'd value your life." 

The man let out a dry, bitter laugh, it didn't even sound funny, or like a laugh even. 

"I just drank" He uttered, in a gravelly voice "I wasn't trying to kill myself and close that damn curtain." 

Marinette didn't move, she pinned her gaze on him with her arms crossed "It's hard enough taking care of you from an annoying employee, we can't take care of you yourself either." 

He half opened his eyes, though his gaze was clouded with a hangover, he saw her clearly. The harshness in her voice was not out of anger, but disappointment. 

And that, that did make him feel like shit.

"It's hard to take care of me...but not get my money, right?" he pointed out in a gruff voice, but still with that biting edge that was so much his own. 

Marinette frowned. The comment hurt her like a whiplash, not because of the accusation itself, but because she knew he didn't mean it. He meant it to push her away.

"It's silly" She held his gaze, defiant "But I can't be watching him every time he comes near alcohol." 

Marinette let out a long, frustrated sigh as if she didn't know how to deal with him anymore, without thinking too much about it, she sat up in bed. 

The mattress sagged slightly lowered her weight. Her body heat seeped through the fabric, spreading across the sheets that still covered half of the man. It was a simple gesture but she wanted him to understand.  

"Don't do that, get up" He stiffened his jaw.

The young woman raised her head, with a dry smile "Will you throw the expensive of your sheets in my face?" She asked, wryly.  

"I'm naked" His voice came out low, raspy, almost a whisper. 

She froze, her mind not processing the words. Her face lit up as if she had been thrown into a bonfire.  

The young woman leapt to her feet, so awkwardly fast that the sheet slipped slightly, revealing an inch more skin than he intended.    

"Why didn't you say so before?" She turned her face away dazed.

Gabriel cocked his head to the side, resting it against the pillow with a smirk on his lips "When, while you were claiming me? Or maybe when you were blinding me with daylight?" 

"And why the hell do you sleep like that?" she clenched her fists.   

"I fell asleep" He whispered irritably "And why should I have to explain myself to you?" He let out a low growl, closing his eyes again.  

Marinette clicked her tongue, irritated, turning on her heels. She was sick of it, of his attitude, of his arrogance, of his damned tendency to push her away every time she tried to get close.  

"This is disgusting" Her voice came out in genuine disgust. 

And she started to walk away, determined to get the hell out of there. But Gabriel stopped her, he didn't touch her, he didn't grab her arm or hold her tight, only his voice held her back.

"Wait Marinette" His voice was low, hoarse, almost pleading. 

"What?" she turned sharply, anger still flaring in her eyes. 

The man looked up at her from the bed, still half covered by the sheet. Exhaustion showed on his face, but so did something else. Something akin to guilt.  

"I never meant to put you in this situation" Her lips parted, just slightly "I'm sorry this happened" Her voice came out low, vulnerable "And I'm also sorry for not behaving.”

Marinette blinked, bewildered, the fury she had felt dissipating. He wasn't manipulating her, he wasn't challenging her. He was just... He was sorry.

The young woman slackened her shoulders, she let out a short, almost imperceptible sigh, she looked at him fearlessly, as sincerely as ever.

"I'm sorry for coming in without your permission and disturbing you, I know you're an idiot..." Her lips curved barely into a wry smile "But not one of those obnoxious idiots." 

Gabriel looked at her, surprised, and, not knowing why, he barely smiled, he shouldn't have. She had just called him an idiot. But, somehow, that made him feel a little less miserable. At least there were no misunderstandings between them.

Marinette took a step toward him again, she didn't sit down, but she didn't leave either. His eyes roamed her face, cautiously, searching for something. Something that would confirm to him what he already suspected.

"Is something wrong, sir?" her voice came out soft, almost a whisper.  

The man looked away. His pupils shadowed. Of course Marinette had noticed strange things about him, Going to the doctor in secret, his increasingly unstable temper, the double showers, as if he was trying to calm something he couldn't control.  

And that he didn't know about the little conversation she had with Harry, since then she was already suspicious and adding this; alcohol alone, like a desperate addict. 

Her gaze pierced him, he felt it. He knew it. But he couldn't hold her. The man averted his eyes to the ceiling.  

"Isn't that normal?" he whispered cynically "I'm locked up."

The young woman tilted her head, staring at him "I've never seen such behavior." 

"You mean I'm abnormal?" He clenched his jaw.

"I mean I don't think it's just the confinement, there's something else." 

Gabriel was trapped, it was obvious she was the one who would notice the most, conveniently she had been at all his incidents, and she had already held the suspicion since the hospital trip. He was a complete idiot. 

"Probably, if I tell you... You'll never want to speak to me again." 

"Did you kill someone?" She blinked, confused. 

The man turned to her with an icy stare and for an instant, she feared she'd gone too far. Until she saw something in his eyes. It wasn't rage, or fury, or contempt. It was fear.

"I know I seem to hate him sometimes..." Her voice came out shaky "but if I can help you...". 

Gabriel looked at her, puzzled, his lips parted, for a second, he was about to speak, but he didn't, he couldn't.  

He looked away, ignored her eyes and he kept silent. 

Because even confessing to murder seemed easier than telling her the truth. Because she was the only thing keeping him sane in that confinement and if he told her....

"I appreciate the intention, but..." He swallowed saliva "I can't tell you." 

Marinette watched him silently. For an instant, her eyes narrowed with attention. She was not looking at him with pity. Nor with disappointment. She was looking at him with genuine interest and with that gentle patience that always puzzled him.

But what surprised her most was the way he lowered his head, he never did; Gabriel always held his face high, with defiant pride, with arrogance and with that cool haughtiness that seemed unshakable.  

Not now, though, now he avoided her gaze.

The young woman pursed her lips. Her chest tightened slightly. Not out of pity, but because, for the first time, he seemed small to her, vulnerable, and that made her uneasy.

No one had taught him how to deal with this. In her job she knew how to handle paranoid, aggressive, even violent clients, but... How the hell do you protect someone from themselves?

"If you want to talk about it, I'll listen" Her voice came out low, serene. 

The man barely tilted his face toward her. His eyes were sleepy, still clouded from the previous night's alcohol. But there was something else in them too.

Something Marinette had trouble deciphering, something dark, heavy. That seemed to cling to her soul like tar.    

"Marinette" Her voice came out lower, almost a whisper "Why are you always so nice?". 

The young woman arched an eyebrow. The question took her by surprise. She didn't know if he was being ironic or sincere. But the way he looked at her...without the usual sarcasm or harshness he usually spat out, made her understand that he wasn't joking.

"Why, does that bother you?" She questioned with a faint skeptical smile.

"Do you think it bothers me?" He frowned barely, as if the question puzzled him. 

"Doesn't it?" She tilted her chin slightly, watching him.  

Gabriel shook his head, very slowly "You always try to play hard to get, but as soon as someone needs it, you reach out, offering to help" He stared, his expression strange, almost tenderly "It's very curious." 

Marinette watched him silently, trying not to blink. The coldness she had learned to wear like a shield seemed to waver.  

"Why question when someone needs help?" her voice came out low, sincere. 

The man didn't answer, he couldn't. He just stared at her, his chest tight, as if the words he dared not say were crowding in his throat, unable to get out.  

And Marinette understood, she didn't need him to speak. She saw it in his eyes, in the tension in his jaw, in the way he breathed with effort, as if he feared his soul would crumble if he exhaled too hard.  

The young woman looked down,biting her lip, she felt awkward, impatient. Because she knew there was no one capable of understanding him the right way. No one.

He was alone with his torment and though she wanted to listen to him and help him, she knew that wasn't enough.  

Gabriel was falling and she could only reach out to him, not knowing if he would take her hand.  

"I appreciate your words and I promise I will take it under advisement." 

Marinette was silent. She watched him intently, looking for something else, some crack or clue. But he had chosen the wall again. His eyes no longer looked at her with vulnerability. But with distance.

"Thank you, sir" She took a deep breath, accepting his decision "I withdraw." 

The coldness in her voice was not new, he knew her well, for as long as he had known her, Marinette tried to appear tough, an indestructible woman, shadow of stone and heart of steel.

Despite her attitudes, he had never believed her. Because, every time someone needed her, her toughness crumbled.

Marinette spun on her heels, heading for the door. She wasn't abandoning him. But she knew she couldn't stay any longer, because if she pushed him, he would shut down completely. 

The door closed behind her and the hallway enveloped her in its silence.

The young woman didn't move, she didn't move away either, she just stood there, waiting. She didn't know if she was waiting for him to come out... or if she just wanted to be close.

Inside the room, Gabriel dropped onto his back on the bed. The ceiling became a blur.

His breathing, heavy. He didn't want to masturbate, he didn't want to get drunk, and most of all...he didn't want to die.

But he didn't know how to live either.

Notes:

Sorry to disappear, I had a bit of a block, don't you hate that?

I love writing Gabriel when he's not a complete idiot, but I can't help it.

Of course, Marinette knows something is going on with Gabriel but now she thinks the man's life hangs in the balance, what will she do?

Thanks for still being here.

Chapter 8: Too cruel not to like.

Summary:

Gabriel receives another unexpected visit as he continues to fight his hangover, Marinette decides to give the man a break, though it doesn't last long.

When the door to the room opened, Marinette blinked twice in disbelief. Her mouth is slightly ajar in surprise. 

She hadn't expected to see him leave all day. In fact, she was convinced that he would ask for breakfast to be brought to the room. That he would lock himself away again. That he would lose himself in his personal black hole, as he always did.

But no. 

There he was. Dressed, well, not exactly formal, but much more presentable than she had imagined.  

Gabriel wore only slacks and an unbuttoned shirt all the way to the top with the sleeves slightly rolled up. He was simple. Unconcerned, but to Marinette, it was much more than she expected. 

He didn't look directly at her, he walked right past her, saying nothing with that slightly stooped gait, the tense posture, as if he was still fighting the hangover 

Still, the man moved with the same casual elegance as always. That leisurely, precise gait of his seemed to enclose the whole world in every footstep.

He was fucked up, though. That much was evident. The slight crease between his eyebrows and the way he massaged his temple with two fingers gave him away.  

Marinette followed him with her eyes as he advanced into the dining room. She watched him drop into the chair, with the weight of someone dragging more than just fatigue.

Gabriel leaned his head forward, holding it with one hand as the other reached for his fork and began to eat. Listless. Slowly. Hardly looking at her.  

The young woman hesitated. She didn't know where they stood now. After the conversation moments before, everything was uncertain.

Should she speak to him as coldly as ever? Or.... pretend nothing had happened? They had both gotten over their silly war of silences, but... Would they go back to the same childish attitude now?

She wouldn't stand for it. So she didn't wait for him to speak, she simply sat down across from him, unquestioningly and without asking permission.  

He barely looked up, frowning slightly, but said nothing. The man continued to eat, massaging his head slowly as if the pain was weighing him down to the bone.  

The girl cocked her head to one side, assessing him "Do you want some pain medication?" She asked. 

He was slow to answer, not because he would hesitate, but because he hadn't expected the question. Gabriel looked at her for a brief moment, puzzled.    

"Please." 

Marinette rose, crossing the room until she disappeared through the door into the kitchen. Gabriel watched her leave, saying nothing, but his eyes followed her, fixed and intent.  

He didn't even bother to dissemble; he didn't blink, didn't look away; the man kept eating, never taking his eyes off the door where she had gone. As if his mind had been glued to her silhouette.  

And when he saw her return... he looked away immediately, as if he hadn't been watching. As if he had not been waiting.

The young woman, without noticing anything, handed him the bottle with the painkillers, along with a glass of water.  

He took it without looking at it; she didn't even bother to read the label; she just took out two pills, put them in his mouth, and swallowed them in one sip.  

"You didn't even read i.t" She watched him with a barely frow.n "What if it had been poison?". 

Gabriel looked up, with a barely perceptible grimace and a shadow of a cynical, weary smile.  

"You tell me all that crap about trust and then you scold me for it?" 

"I thought you always ignored what I tell you" She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms.

"Can you blame me?" He set the glass down on the table. 

The conversation ended there. 

Marinette could have launched a comment but she desisted, only averted her eyes, but she couldn't help the small smile that broke out on her face.  

The spontaneity of her gesture took him by surprise. She was smiling lightly, almost complicity.

And though he didn't smile, he felt it all the same. The hangover still stabbed at his temples, and the tiredness weighed on his back, but something in his chest he felt slightly lighter.

And though he wouldn't say it out loud, he appreciated it.

The sound of silverware tearing the porcelain and the slight crunch of bread being bitten were the only sounds in the room after that. 

Gabriel ate in silence, and Marinette watched him; between them, there was no need for words. They both knew that if they pressed the other matter, nothing good would come of it.  

So they didn't, but the brief calm was interrupted by the echo of footsteps approaching. Renaud appeared in the doorway of the dining room. He bowed with slight formality.  

"Sir, I'm sorry to disturb you at this time, but there is someone to see you." 

Gabriel sighed in annoyance, rolled his eyes, resting his fork against his plate with a slight click, what the fuck was wrong with people lately? Was he the new attraction in town?  

The young woman disguised a small smile, for a second, it seemed like everything was getting back to normal.

"Who?" He tilted his head slightly towards Renaud. 

"Audrey Bourgeois." 

The man froze as if something had hit him in the chest; the change was instantaneous, his gaze hardened for a brief moment, the fork halfway through his fingers, forgotten.  

Marinette frowned. She recognized the name; she stood up in mild bewilderment. "The queen of style?" She questioned, surprised.  

"Yes, her" Renaud nodded. 

Gabriel reacted at last, he turned his head sharply towards Renaud with a tense jaw. 

"You sent her in? Don't tell me you left her waiting outside?" 

"No..." He hesitated "She was very.... convincing. She's already in her office." 

"Shit" Gabriel stood up with a start. The chair creaked as it was pushed back sharply "And you left her alone?" 

Without wasting a second, the man stormed out of the dining room in long strides, practically running toward his office.  

The girl hesitated only a second, but she hurried after him, she wasn't going to be left behind.

Arriving at the office, Gabriel stopped in his tracks, he exhaled slowly, trying to regain his composure. He buttoned the first two buttons of his shirt that he had worn carelessly open earlier, he ran his fingers through his hair, smoothed it a little, and cleared his voice discreetly.  

Marinette watched him from behind, frowning slightly, what the hell was he doing? Without further ado, he turned the handle and entered.  

The office was dimly lit; Audrey's perfume hung in the air, sweet, enveloping, like the scent of Parisian nights in springtime.

The woman's back was turned, contemplating the paintings that decorated the back wall. Her silhouette was impeccable, elegant even in the way she stood.  

Hearing the door open, she turned slowly "Gabriel, dear..." She murmured with a honeyed lilt "Hiding from me?". 

Gabriel approached her immediately, his movements were fluid, natural, graceful, almost instinctive. He took her hand gently, bent it slightly, and kissed the back of her hand with a slow, almost ceremonious brush.

"Of course you didn't. I had not been informed that you were here, my dear." His voice had changed; his tone was low, melodic with a touch of perfectly rehearsed gallantry.

Marinette blinked, puzzled. She had stood in the doorway, motionless, as if she were looking at a stranger.

The woman gave her a lazy smile "It was always hard to see you. Now you're untraceable" Her eyes fell on Marinette, as if she had just noticed her presence.  

And Audrey ignored her.

"Due to recent events and investigations, I'm afraid I had to," He explained in a low, subdued voice. "But you are always welcome." 

Audrey cocked her head, smiling with false tenderness "Oh, yes, they tried to kill you. How unfortunate" His voice was flat, devoid of empathy. A simple social formality. 

The man didn't flinch. He kept his expression perfectly controlled "To what do I owe your visit?". 

She narrowed her eyes slightly "Near death wiped your memory? The anniversary of my magazine. You were to organize the celebration..."

He blinked. He had completely forgotten. "So much has happened these days, that, in truth, I forgot," He admitted with a feigned sigh. "And as you can see, my house is held up". 

"I'll have to do it myself," Audrey sighed theatrically. "And you know how much I hate that".

"I'm sorry my situation stresses you out, my dear" He bowed his head with a half-smile 

Marinette couldn't take her eyes off them, the way Gabriel spoke to her, his refined smile, the fluidity with which he touched her, the ease with which he indulged her; who was this man? Where was Gabriel she knew?  

For what she was seeing now, was a complete stranger.

The woman sighed languidly, as if all the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. She turned to Gabriel with mock sadness. 

"I'll have to hire a new assistant. It's so hard to find competent people these days." 

"I hear you" He nodded with a small smile laden with false understanding. 

Audrey leaned barely toward him, closing the distance with an intimate gesture. 

"I sympathize with you, sweetheart. Having to be here, surrounded by them" She gestured with a brief wave of her hand at Marinette and, by extension, the rest of the staff. 

"Dressed up like a bad movie." 

The young woman narrowed her eyes. She had clearly heard the taunt and her blood boiled.

Audrey smiled with false kindness. "They should add sparkles," She pointed out with an amused grimace. "They are the trend, after all." 

The venom in her tone was subtle, but Marinette didn't let it pass.

"We can't add sparkles to our uniform," She interrupted without hesitation. "The point is to be discreet, in case there's a critical situation." 

For a brief moment, the silence was heavy, Audrey looked at her with studied coldness. She took her time. She panned her up and down as if assessing the most vulgar garment in a luxury boutique.  

"You can tell you don't have the slightest knowledge to stand out." Her lips curved just barely, "Including the fabric." Her voice was soft but sharp.

"You think we have no knowledge?" Marinette asked, without losing her composure. She didn't even blink, her eyes riveted on the woman, defiant.

"You say glitter is the trend, but the reality is that it's passé." 

The temperature dropped a couple of degrees. Gabriel swallowed saliva, dryly, anxiety shrinking his chest. A silent battle raged in front of him. One that shouldn't exist.

Audrey looked at Marinette with steely eyes. Behind her dark glasses, her pupils burned with fury.

"You see, Gabriel? It's so hard to find competent people." Her voice was pure venom disguised as sweetness. "And decent." Her lips curved into a cruel smile. "You're fired." 

Marinette froze; she blinked slowly as if the words had made no sense.

"Fired...?" She whispered in disbelief. She frowned, confused, who the hell did this woman think she was?

Fury rose in her throat, she was about to speak, to tell him that she was no one to fire her, but Gabriel's voice cut through her.    

"Marinette, you heard her," He said without even looking at her. "You're fired." His voice was cold, distant, unflinching. 

The blow was dry, brutal, what... Just like that? Without hesitation? Why did this woman just say it? She wanted to laugh, or scream, but no sound came out.   

"Get out" He ordered in the same impassive voice.

The young woman stayed where she was; she didn't even breathe while Audrey's face lit up with satisfaction; she moved barely a step closer to Marinette, so close that she could smell her expensive perfume.  

"You should know your place" She whispered with feigned sweetness 

And the worst thing was... in a certain part, he was right, what was she going to claim? Gabriel had already been clear. He had dismissed her as if she was nothing.  

Marinette clenched her jaw, fury eating her up inside; she let out a bitter snort and spun on her heels.

The girl walked to the door with hurried steps, holding back the urge to scream; she didn't look at Gabriel; she wouldn't give him that pleasure. 

She just walked out and slammed the door shut. 

The echo of her angry footsteps echoed through the halls; as she walked away, the young woman walked through the house, past the kitchen, and into the farthest area, the corner of the house.

The only place she had to herself.

Marinette entered her room, slamming the door shut. The knock echoed off the walls. She rested her hands on the edge of the dresser, her shoulders shaking with rage.

She had insulted Gabriel, she had rebuked him. She had been the one to stand up to him and for a shallow woman, he had fired her. Just like that.  

Her stomach churned. Rage suffocated her as if a fist had been shoved in her chest. She couldn't believe it, or rather she didn't want to believe it.

The young woman was furious, she didn't even bother to report that she was leaving Gabriel alone or that she had just been fired. She simply went to his bed, knelt down, pulled out the suitcase she had arrived with, and placed it roughly on the mattress.  

Without giving it much thought, she began shoving in some of her belongings, she didn't even try to fold the clothes, she just tossed them in. Her blood boiled.

She had never in her life felt so offended, it didn't happen to her with other clients, those who were daring and annoying, but none had humiliated her like that woman.

Marinette half-closed the zipper with a clenched jaw and slammed the suitcase in frustration. The impact was dry and dull, but it didn't calm the anger boiling in her chest.

Shaken, the girl dropped onto the bed, legs dangling over the edge, and buried her face in her hands.

She was like a caged demon, furious and wounded.

She had heard a phrase once: never meet your idols, and they were right. First Gabriel, then Audrey Bourgeois.

It had all been a disappointment.

At that moment, the bedroom door opened without warning. Marinette raised her head with her eyes still alight with rage and saw him.  

Gabriel was standing in the doorway. He was breathing with agitation. As if he had run.

For a second, she thought about screaming at him, shoving him out of there even though it was his house. But he spoke first.

"It wasn't true," He blurted out quickly, almost breathlessly. "You mustn't go." 

Marinette watched him, confused. Was it the hangover? Or was he delirious? She sat up looking at him suspiciously.  

"I was just leaving" She muttered, dry, as if she didn't want to give him the pleasure of explaining himself. 

"You're not fired" He advanced a step

Marinette frowned. She didn't understand anything "You said..."  

"I know" He interrupted her, almost in frustration. His lips tightened. He exhaled with restrained anger and averted his gaze, irritated with himself "Audrey is..." His voice cracked slightly, and he finished the sentence with a thread of venom: "How I hate her." 

The confession was unexpected.  

"You hate all your friends?" She asked, confused.

Gabriel let out a brief, mirthless, listless, bitter laugh, and then he shook his head. 

"She's not my friend" He made it clear, contemptuously "She's nothing of mine." 

The young woman narrowed her eyes. She didn't believe him.

"Really?" She accused him mockingly, "Is that why you were using that tone with her?" 

Gabriel gave her a sidelong glance. He knew she had noticed it all. "You are a very cruel woman," He whispered, barely moving his lips.

"I thought I was only appearing cruel" She sketched a bitter smile. 

Silence crept between them. The words floated, strained, in the air. 

Gabriel looked away and his gaze fell on the suitcase. The sight hit him like a fist, was she really leaving? That fast? He felt the weight in his chest, it was a cold, bitter pressure.

The man had run there; as soon as Audrey left, he had asked Renaud where Marinette's room was, and he had gone immediately. He had gone as fast as he could, would he have taken too long?

The man approached the bed "You're a lump of sugar compared to her." 

Marinette shook her head, not understanding. "It doesn't make any sense," She whispered with a frown. "I'm fired, aren't I?". 

The man slowly sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. "Of course not, Marinette," He said with a softness that puzzled her.

The young woman felt as if she couldn't keep up with his words, as if the whole world had taken an absurd turn. 

"Why did you tell me I was?" She asked, a lump in her throat.

Gabriel sighed without looking away from her, trying to explain everything without saying anything. "Because Audrey said so," He whispered bitterly. "And everything she says must be done".  

"That's ridiculous" She watched him as if she couldn't believe what she had just heard 

"I know," He murmured in a muffled voice. "But... she's like that." He lowered his head, "And I can't do anything. I must treat her as if she were the queen of the world." 

Marinette tried to understand, but she couldn't. "Why?" she whispered. "She's just a person". 

"Thanks to her, I am the recognized person I am now." He raised his head, looking straight into her eyes as if it pained him to admit it. "I would be nothing without Audrey Bourgeois, and she always reminds me of that." 

The girl pursed her lips, her eyes narrowed slightly. She didn't quite understand the story, but one thing she did know.

"That's not true," She stated confidently. "You are recognized for your great talent, not for her," Marinette said with such conviction that, for a brief moment, he believed her.

"My talent caught Audrey's attention in the first place; she made me so great that everyone knew me," He remembered. "Besides, she is among the most powerful people in the world; no one wants to have her as an enemy." 

"Is that why you use that horrendous voice?". 

"You think my voice is horrendous?" He asked pretending to be offended. 

She shook her head, a smile barely visible on her lips "No. Just that gallant tone you do."

"I must pretend." He sketched a faint smile. "That's why I repeated what she said. But you're not at all fired."

Marinette eyed him suspiciously, still with anger simmering in her eyes "You let her treat everyone like dirt?" 

"That's how she treats everyone. Even her husband and daughters" He sighed, shrugging his shoulders in resignation.  

"How frightening" She frowned, horrified. 

She always does and gets what she wants. It's not new" He nodded slowly. 

The young woman looked down, thoughtful. She had heard rumors of that woman's toughness, but she had never thought she was so despot.  

"She always looked tough, but I never thought she'd be so cruel" She commented quietly.  

"You know who she is" He stated, with a glint of curiosity in his eyes.  

"What, no" She replied, with a slight gesture of confusion.  

"When Renaud said her name, you recognized her instantly."

"Are you going back to that design nonsense?" She narrowed her eyes, sighing with irritation. 

Gabriel looked at her with mock innocence, enjoying her discomfort. "You looked like a fan," He blurted out in a mocking voice, leaning slightly towards her. "Tell me, are you a fan of mine?" 

Marinette let out a dry laugh, not looking at him. "You're not that good," She replied cheekily. 

The phrase echoed in the man's mind. He remembered that Marinette had said something similar the first few days they had lived together. Back then, her words had upset him deeply. He had felt hurt, as if she did not recognize his effort, his art.  

But now... he didn't feel the same, he just felt something else, something warmer, softer.  

The young woman was still there, standing before him, disarming him, without even trying. 

Gabriel stared at her, thinking that if she left, he wouldn't know what to do.

"Will you ever tell me the truth?" He asked, his voice more serious "Why do you seem to love design so much and pretend you don't?" 

The young woman looked at him, expressionless but with a defiant glint in her eyes. "Will you tell me what's wrong with you?" She counterattacked, without hesitation.  

Their gazes met, but neither relented, as if both were measuring forces in silence.

Gabriel averted his eyes and looked around. He studied the room, recognizing the furniture, the walls, and the windows. It was all part of his home. And yet it was no longer the same. She had changed something.

Her presence, her things among his, her footsteps in the hallways. They were part of everything now.

And, suddenly, his head began to buzz. As if his own body was reminding him that he had just woken up from a hangover. That he wasn't quite right. But the shock of seeing Audrey at his house had been so strong that, for a moment, he had forgotten all about it. 

Suddenly, he swayed slightly. As if the ground was tilting under his feet. Marinette noticed it immediately. Her body tensed. 

"Are you okay?" She asked with a frown.  

"Yes..." He closed his eyes for a brief second, trying to dispel the dizziness "Shit...I forgot my head was exploding" He mentioned in a low, barely audible tone 

Marinette watched him, tense and worried. A thought crossed her mind fleetingly, what would she do if she passed out there?

"It was a huge bottle," She pointed out. "Maybe we should go to the hospital."

He let out a hoarse, limp laugh and gave her a mocking look "You want to take me to the hospital for a hangover?" 

"It was too much alcohol" She glared at him, serious.  

"I'll be fine, I promise" He sighed heavily, dropping his head back a little 

And, without another word, the man dropped onto the bed on his back. His feet were still on the floor, but his torso lay sprawled on the mattress, arms outstretched as if he could no longer support himself.  

"I must insist." 

"And I keep refusing" He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head.  

"You're hopeless," She spat between her teeth. "I should have agreed to let you fire me," She snorted, frustrated. 

Gabriel turned his head towards her, widening his eyes "Were you really going to leave?" His voice sounded deeper, almost a whisper.  

"I probably was," She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "And then I would have come back to hit something," She admitted.

"You're being rude again" He smiled, barely. 

"And you won't stop teasing me" She cocked her head to the side, mockingly. 

Strangely, he didn't respond, he didn't make any snide remarks or throw out any jokes. He simply remained silent. And he continued to massage his temple.  

It was then that she noticed him. The situation was strange. He was in her room, in her bed. It wasn't the first time they had been alone, but this time...it felt different.

The anger, the annoyance he had arrived with, seemed to have evaporated. Without knowing why, Marinette also dropped onto the bed with the same abandon as he did.

Face up, next to him, though they weren't touching, neither of them could believe all that had happened in just seconds.

She had met another one of her idols... and it was terrible, she had been fired... and rehired. And now she had a sick man by her side.

Being around that man, it couldn't get any weirder.

After a moment, Marinette slowly turned her head to look at him. Gabriel had his face turned towards her, but his eyes closed, and, as if sensing it, at that precise moment, he opened his eyes and watched her.

Their gazes met and stayed there, trapped, unmoving. There was no reason for them to look at each other like that, with such intensity. But they did.

Without blinking and without looking away, no one said anything. The silence was heavy, but no one broke contact.

And who knows how long they would have stayed that way...

If it hadn't been for the knock on the door. Marinette sat up immediately as if she had been caught doing something wrong. Although she was doing nothing wrong, her reaction was quick, instinctive, almost guilty. She rose from the bed abruptly. 

"Come in."

The door opened, and Renaud appeared. "Oh, sir, I was looking for you," He mentioned with a slight nod. "Is everything all right?". 

The young woman quickly stepped forward. The scene did not look good at all. She is standing nervously, and he is lying on the bed, disheveled and disheveled.  

"There was a little misunderstanding with Monsieur," She explained hurriedly. "He came to clear it up... but he felt a little bad."

Renaud frowned and approached Gabriel with concern "Would you like us to call a doctor?" 

"It's just a hangover," He grunted. "And Marinette thought I'd fired her. I wanted to clear up the misunderstanding before she left." 

Renaud turned his head toward Marinette, confused "Why did you think that?"

"Audrey, she told him and she always says that wherever she goes, it was a misunderstanding, Marinette is not fired" As if he was repeating a mantra, he said it again, looking at the girl, almost as if he wanted to make sure she would remember "You are not fired." 

"Yes..." Renaud shared with a sigh "You said the same thing to Fernand and Bruno. Don't worry, sir." 

But Gabriel didn't move, he didn't answer anymore, he didn't even raise his head. He just kept on massaging his temple, as if he wanted to tear the pain away.  

Marinette was still restless, she didn't know if his condition was only due to the hangover or if that woman's visit had made everything worse. But the truth was that he looked worse. Paler and more dejected.  

"Would you like to go to your room, sir?" She asked, gently.  

"Please" He exhaled slowly, as if he found it hard to even breathe 

Without hesitation, Marinette and Renaud approached him. Each took one of his arms, both tried to incorporate him. But Gabriel staggered. It was as if he was dizzy and limp at the same time. His body was heavy. And they had to hold him tightly.

With an awkward, almost shuffling effort, they carried him out of the room. The young woman noticed how Gabriel leaned heavily on them, as if, without their help, he could not stand.

Definitely, she was right, he could not allow himself to get drunk like this every time his body betrayed him. Because he wouldn't stand for it.

The journey to his room was slow and tiring.  

When they finally arrived, they came in with him and carried him to the bed, where they practically dropped him. As if he were a heavy sack, without strength.

"We'll let him rest, sir" Renaud commented. 

Gabriel only nodded, almost without opening his eyes. Renaud and Marinette stood back, ready to leave, but, before he could do so, she stopped him. 

"I think it would be better if I stayed here with him," She considered. "He says he doesn't need a doctor... but...". 

"I saw the bottle." Renaud looked at her for a brief moment with a slight gesture of understanding. "Stay." His eyes hardened, but his voice was gentle. "When we do the changing of the guard, I'll tell them to stay with him, too," He added. 

Marinette nodded and Renaud left the room, leaving them alone. The door closed, and she turned her eyes back to him.

The man was still lying motionless, his forearm covering his eyes. The young woman approached him, slowly. She looked at him with a frown.

"Would you like me to get another bottle, sir?" She mentioned in a mocking tone. 

Gabriel lowered his arm slowly. His eyes, still heavy, looked at her with irritation "You're asking me to fire you." 

"Fire me." She smiled sideways, cruelly. "I have half a suitcase packed." 

Gabriel glared at her, annoyed and exasperated. But he wouldn't. He couldn't do it, couldn't she notice that he had run to her room to stop her from leaving? That he had ignored her headache, her dizziness, just to stop her?

And now she was provoking him, on purpose, playing with him. And he didn't have the strength to defend himself. Gabriel was breathing slowly, tired and frustrated.

Marinette knew it, and without mercy, she attacked him again.in "And why did Audrey Bourgeois come here?" She asked, feigning disinterest.  

"What, didn't you hear?" He squinted, exasperated 

"When you threw me out, no" She folded her arms insolently

"About a party I was supposed to host." He clenched his jaw, annoyed. "For the anniversary of your magazine." 

"And why should you?" she frowned 

"Because I owe him everything I am. It's like I'm thanking him" He looked at her, almost disdainfully. As if the answer was obvious

"So... You're not throwing the party anymore?" She snorted. Shaking her head

"It's hard to do it from my house. But..." He sketched a wry smile. "Something good had to come out of them trying to kill me," He added sarcastically.

"You say it so simply..." She muttered, not looking at him.  

"Should I let loose to cry or...?" He snorted with a sardonic smile 

"Forget it" She turned her head slowly toward him, glaring at him 

Sometimes she forgot how much of an idiot he could be. And now she remembered it clearly. That insolent, cheeky tone got on his nerves. But instead of walking away, she stayed close.

Marinette walked slowly around the room, almost by inertia. She paced it slowly, dragging her fingertips along the wood of the dresser. Her feet barely made a sound against the floor. Until she reached the windows, she stopped there. Barely a couple of steps separated her from the glass.

Her eyes wandered outside. The Paris sky was tinged a deep blue, almost black, with only faint glimmers from street lamps. The wind gently rustled the treetops, rustling the dry branches.

 Everything seemed so silent, so alien. As if the world out there had no idea that, at that moment, she was sharing a room with a man who had been on the verge of death. 

Without looking away from the window, the young woman blurted out a comment almost to herself, "I can't believe she's like that." 

"Before you met me...what did you think she was like?" Behind her, Gabriel's voice echoed, raspy. 

Marinette turned her head a little, just enough to look at him over her shoulder "Everything must always revolve around you, mustn't it?”

"So you won't tell me..." he narrowed his eyes, cocking his head in mock irritation. 

"Not much," She blurted out. "You're secretive and didn't leave much to the imagination." 

"Why would I want to pry into my life?" His lips curved into a cynical smile. 

"Then why ask me?" She smiled back at him, the same teasing look in her eyes 

"Curiosity," He shrugged. "You're very shocked that she's like that, and when Renaud said she was here...your eyes sparkled." 

"Not true" She turned sharply to him, looking at him offended

"You looked like a teenager admiring her idol" He let out a short hoarse laugh

"Of course not." She pursed her lips, annoyed. "Since I started babysitting him, I've met so many famous people that I'm not even impressed anymore." 

"Yeah, right" He looked at her with an incredulous expression. Almost mocking

He didn't believe her, but of course...he didn't believe most of the things she said.

Marinette fed up with the conversation, turns back to the window. She let her gaze wander outside again until she noticed something strange.

The young woman frowned. She scanned the garden intently.

The security cameras. She couldn't quite see them. They were supposed to be pointing in that direction. Or, at least, she should be able to make them out. But the corner of the house covered them.

Was that normal? Were they misplaced? Or... had someone moved them?

She wasn't an expert on security cameras, but something about that didn't seem right, or maybe she was already paranoid.

"Do you know if the cameras are never pointed here?" She asked without looking away from the glass.  

There was no response. A thick silence settled in the room. Marinette turned her head and she saw him. Gabriel was completely asleep, slumped over as if someone had suddenly knocked him out. 

Marinette hadn't even noticed when it happened. He had been so silent, she hadn't even noticed.

His breathing was slow and deep. His chest heaved up and down, his arms, slack at his sides, as if his own body weighed him down.

The young woman just stood there, watching him silently. She watched him sleep and let out a slight sigh.  

Marinette turned her gaze to the window, her eyes lost in the garden. "I admired you more than anything in the world." Without thinking, she murmured to herself, "And I think you're the best in the world." 

Her voice was barely a whisper as if she feared someone would hear her, even him, though Gabriel was sound asleep. He didn't hear her, he couldn't hear her.

And Marinette smiled bitterly. Because yes. She was, indeed, taking advantage of a drunk. Nice to see how much progress she had made. 

She lost herself in the scenery again, never taking her eyes off the glass.

That day couldn't get any worse. 

 

---

 

Gabriel woke up with a jolt as if an invisible switch had been flipped inside him. His eyes opened wide, disoriented. He blinked several times, confused as he recognized his own room.

The lack of light he could see through the curtains told him that it was already dark. He had fallen asleep completely.

The man took a deep breath and turned his head, expecting to see Marinette still there, but, instead, he found Leroy.

The man was standing a few steps away from the bed, his hands folded in front of him, watchful as always. His expression was serious, he was the most serious of them all.

"Are you all right, sir?" Leroy asked, "Are you in any discomfort?". 

Gabriel ran his hand over his face, trying to clear his head. He felt strange, there was no trace of the hangover anymore, but his body still felt heavy, as if that dream had lasted for days on end.

"I'm fine." 

Her voice sounded rough as if she hadn't used it in hours. Leroy nodded but didn't move. He stood, watching him.

Gabriel sat up, sitting on the edge of the bed. He was about to ask him to leave, why would he want him there, standing in his room like a statue? 

But, before Gabriel could say it, he heard Leroy's deep voice through his communicator. 

"He's awake now. He's fine." 

Gabriel clenched his jaw, of course. All his theatrics with alcohol were already well known. It was logical, how could it not be?

She still didn't understand how he'd managed not to throw up in front of Marinette, but the important thing was that he'd gotten out of that rut. And now he was in a position to put it behind him.

Gabriel rubbed his eyes with his hands, exhausted. Again, he was about to ask Leroy to leave, but then someone knocked on the door.

Leroy turned his head, attentive, and walked toward the entrance to open it. Marinette appeared, she was pushing a small serving cart, on top of which were several plates covered with silver bells.

The young woman wore her hair pulled back in a low ponytail, and her white blouse was impeccable, but her look remained serious.

"Sir," She spoke in that professional tone she used when there was someone else around, "You have eaten nothing. You must feed." 

Gabriel watched her for a moment; out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Leroy; with him there, he couldn't speak freely. Not as usual.

He watched the young woman approach with the cart and set it down next to the bed. Her movements were efficient and calculated, but there was something in the stiffness of her posture that gave away that she was still upset.

"Enjoy, sir" She murmured formally.  

Marinette turned toward the door, ready to leave along with Leroy. Gabriel glared at her, he wasn't going to let her go just yet.

"Marinette," He called out to her in a deep voice. "Can I talk to you about the rude thing Audrey did to you?" 

The girl paused. Her back tensed for barely a second, but she turned her head with a neutral expression.

"That was already made clear, sir" Her tone sounded so curt and indifferent. As if she didn't want to touch the subject. 

"Please..." He clenched his jaw "I feel terrible." 

Leroy didn't quite understand what she meant, but he had heard about that woman's rude behavior, so he didn't ask questions. 

"Okay" She gave him a sidelong glance 

That was the signal Leroy needed. Without questioning anything, he left the room and closed the door behind him.

The silence between them was thick. Marinette turned to him, her arms crossed. His gaze was defiant.

"We discussed this," She spat dryly. "I made it clear that woman is the devil." 

"Marinette." He watched her with a slight frown. "You are no servant here." 

Gabriel completely ignored what she had just said. He let it pass as if he hadn't even heard it. The young woman blinked, puzzled. Her chest rose slightly as if she had held her breath, but she didn't say anything, not yet.

The man was looking at her with such intensity that the young woman didn't know whether to feel challenged or vulnerable. But she didn't look away, not this time. 

The girl narrowed her eyes, distrustful, incredulous at his words. She looked at him with her head slightly cocked to one side as if trying to decipher him.  

"Why do you say that?" She asked finally. Her tone was direct and blunt. There was genuine curiosity in her voice.

Gabriel let out a slight sigh. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to clear the lingering dizziness, then looked at her frankly. 

"The bottle, the cart, your job is to take care of me, protect me," He clarified. "You are not my servant." His voice sounded serious, but there was something vulnerable in his tone.

It was as if, somehow, it weighed on him to see her like that, looking after him, bringing things when it wasn't her function in that house, it wasn't her duty to do so.

Marinette averted her gaze for a second but then returned her gaze to him. She didn't like it when he made her feel this way, exposed. As if he cared more than he should.  

"The bottle you asked for and this..." She gestured slightly toward the cart "It was my doing." 

Gabriel was silent for a brief moment, a little puzzled. He thought that someone had ordered her to bring him the food. Renaud had instructed her to make sure he ate something. But no. She had done it on her own.

He always spoke unknowingly too lightly.  

"I'm sorry." He was being honest, "I don't want you to bring me things or do things for me." 

Marinette let out a slight snort, there it was again. That condescending air, as if he thought he had some control over what she decided to do.

"You say that like I'm going to do it again" His defiant tone resurfaced almost immediately. That spark that always unnerved him. 

And so did her gaze, it was challenging, without a hint of submission. That attitude got his attention. It always did.  

Gabriel rested his elbows on his knees, leaning slightly forward. His eyes, still a little tired, roamed over her carefully.  

Challenge against challenge.

"Why can't they see you talk to me like that?" He asked suddenly.  

"You're our boss" She blinked, slightly surprised "It's not right" But she didn't back down 

Gabriel cocked his head, squinting, with that half smile that looked like a mock sneer. 

"But I allow it." 

"All the same, it's not right." She shook her head flatly, "I must draw a line." 

The man lowered his gaze for a second, but then he raised it toward her, sly, as if he'd found a crack in her argument. He leaned barely to one side, mockingly. 

"And does that streak you draw include this meal?" 

Marinette arched an eyebrow, her expression wry "Not starve him to death? Yes, it's a great stripe." 

He let out a soft, almost inaudible laugh. He liked it when she surprised him like that. When she didn't back down.

Marinette, still standing by the cart, folded her arms, watching him. She was looking at him with that teasing air, but there was something else. Something softer in the way she was looking at him.

"Would you like me to feed him too, sir?" She asked suddenly, with feigned innocence.  

Gabriel blinked, and for a second he thought he'd misheard. He looked at her, puzzled.

"What?" 

The young woman raised an eyebrow, with false formality, but the slight curve at the corner of her lips betrayed mockery.

"He hasn't eaten. If he's that weak..." She is sarcastic "I could feed him." 

"In the mouth?"

The man stared at her, incredulous. His mind was tired, but not so tired that he didn't pick up on the provocation. A short, hoarse laugh escaped his throat. He shook his head, leaning back against the backrest.  

"You're crazy." 

The girl sketched a smile of triumph. She shrugged, as if she didn't care "I'm just trying to be thoughtful." 

She walked over to the cart and, without another word, she lifted the silver bell off one of the plates. The aroma of hot food filled the room. 

Marinette took the silverware quite naturally and cut a small piece. She held it in front of him as if she was really going to do it.

Gabriel looked at her with narrowed eyes, there was a mischievous glint in his gaze. But he didn't move. 

"You wouldn't dare." 

The young woman held his gaze with her chin slightly raised and with deliberate slowness, she brought the fork closer to her mouth.

"Oh, no?" 

The room was filled with that slight, warm tension, full of a flirtation that neither of them quite recognized, but neither seemed to want to stop either.

She was not yet in her turn. Yet she was still there, looking after him, teasing him, enjoying his company.

Gabriel kept his gaze fixed on the fork. The piece of meat was perfectly cut, suspended just inches from his mouth. Marinette held it with a nonchalant air as if she really wasn't aware of the impudence. Of the blatant mockery the gesture carried.

He narrowed his eyes, said nothing, and continued without moving. Of course, he was hungry. A ravenous hunger that twisted his stomach.

After all, he hadn't eaten anything since the late breakfast he'd left half-eaten when Audrey showed up at his house. 

The alcohol hadn't helped either; it had only filled a temporary void, and now his body was begging for fuel. But her, fueling it? 

The young woman, who only minutes ago had told him she wasn't his servant. And now there she was, playing with him, having fun at his expense, filling him up as if there was no contradiction.

The man wrinkled his brow. He was as offended as he was amused, annoyed, but not quite. For he couldn't help but notice the mischievous glint in Marinette's eyes. That faint glint of mischief. 

She was having fun, and what was worse, so was he.

"I'm not going to fall for your game" He spoke in a deep, almost hoarse voice.

Marinette tilted her head slightly as if feigning confusion. Her lips curved into an amused smile. 

"What game, sir?" She asked, with false innocence "I'm just trying to be attentive." 

Gabriel let out a low snort, with an expression of mock contempt. As if he was jaded by the world. As if he couldn't believe the boldness of the woman in front of him.

"Please, Marinette. Don't do this to me," He asked. "I'm helpless." His tone was mocking, dramatic on purpose, but his eyes followed her with intensity, not missing a nuance of her expression.

The young woman let out a light, sing-songy laugh, a little more genuine this time. She enjoyed seeing him like this too much, so vulnerable and powerless. And worse; knowing that she was putting him in that position.

"Helpless, yes," She pointed out. "That's what you get for getting drunk like a teenager". 

"Oh, right." He raised an eyebrow, offended. "Now I'm the victim of my own decisions. How cruel of you." 

The girl watched him with feigned pity, but her smirk betrayed any trace of compassion, she put her fork down with feigned gentleness, but instead of placing it back on the plate, she brought it even closer, almost brushing his lips.

"Of course, you're the victim," She continued. "A poor, tragic victim. Of your own stupidity." 

Gabriel narrowed his eyes, playing indignant. His gaze hardened, almost defiant, but deep down, there was no real anger. He couldn't be, not with the way Marinette was looking at him, with that mischievous complicity, brazenly and unconsciously.

"You're cruel, Marinette, did you know that?" 

"I've been told" She cocked her head, with feigned gentleness 

And, without giving him time to react, she brought her fork to his mouth, barely touching his lower lip.

The contact was brief, deliberate, a brush as light as a breath, but just enough for both of them to notice. Their gazes met. Held for a second too long.

And they both felt it, that slight flicker. That little spark that neither of them expected. That was something that crossed the space between them like an unexpected flash.

Marinette lowered her fork. Her lips parted barely, as if she wanted to say something, but she didn't. 

Gabriel blinked slowly, not taking his eyes off her. His expression became more serious as if suddenly the game was no longer a game. As if they had both crossed a line they didn't even know existed.

The silence became too long and uncomfortable.

Until the young woman looked away. She cleared her throat, softly before speaking again. 

"I have to go rest," She murmured in a low, almost formal tone. "I have the first shift tomorrow." Her voice sounded drier than usual, more measured. As if she wanted to cut the moment with a clean slash.  

Gabriel straightened, crossing his arms over his chest, returning to his usual pose, serious and impenetrable.  

"I'll see you in the morning." 

"Yes, in the morning" She nodded, not quite looking at him. 

Marinette turned toward the door. Before leaving, she turned barely, with a slight nod.

"Enjoy your meal, sir." 

And then the young woman walked out, without looking back, leaving the room with that slight hollowness. That glaring emptiness and the feeling that something had been left hanging in the air.

Gabriel let out a slight sigh. He averted his gaze to the plate in front of him. Yes, he was hungry. Even though he didn't feel like eating. But still, he did. Because his body needed it.

The man ate slowly, not really savoring the food. As if he was simply fulfilling an obligation.  

Gabriel hoped that tomorrow, hopefully, everything would go back to normal.

Notes:

I detest Audrey, don't think I'm including her because I like her.

Marinette and Gabriel begin to loosen up a bit, though more people in the house and their obvious secrets continue to drive them apart.

We go fast, we go slow? No, we're doing fine.

Thanks for making it this far!

Chapter 9: We didn't understand each other, but we stayed.

Summary:

Gabriel and Marinette keep getting closer, until something seemingly indifferent separates them, but this time, having strong reprisals.

And a new unexpected visit leaves everyone frozen.

Gabriel sat up slowly, stretching lazily. But this time, there was no trace of heaviness in his body. No hangover, no exhaustion, no strange heaviness in his chest that he had felt the night before.

He felt light. As good as new. Even the other problem, the one he refused to name, seemed to have dissipated. Or at least, his body had decided to keep a low profile.

Gabriel showered and dressed as meticulously as ever. His shirt was perfectly pressed, buttoned to the last button. The knot in his collar is impeccable. 

Everything is in place. Perfect. Impeccable. Like the man he had always been. The man who was never afraid. 

However, as he stood in front of the door with his hand on the handle, the man noticed that he was breathing a little slower. A little deeper, as if his body was trying to anchor itself in the room, Why did he feel this way?

Because behind that door was Marinette. Only Marinette. The same young woman he had seen so many times. The same one who irritated him with her insolence. The same one who challenged him fearlessly. There was no reason to feel strange. 

The man mentally ordered himself: No being weird. Just go out and be yourself. Don't think about... anything.  

Gabriel exhaled. He turned the handle and opened the door. And sure enough, there was Marinette, standing with the same posture as always, slightly leaning against the wall with her hands behind her back; her uniform was spotless, and with that relaxed expression, as if nothing in the world could disturb her.

The young woman looked at him and he had nothing to say. As if he had suddenly forgotten how to speak. Her lips parted a little, but no sound came out. He just looked at her, with that extra second that had no reason to exist.

"Are you better, sir?" She asked softly, with her usual tone, so correct, yet with a slight tinge of mischief, as if amused by reminding him of his condition the night before. 

Gabriel didn't know if she was calling him sir just to annoy him, or if she was really trying to keep her distance. But either way, the effect was the same. 

"Did you learn your lesson?" She cocked her head just barely, with that amused little smile that always drove him up the wall.

The man watched her with mock seriousness, but couldn't keep the corners of his lips from curling up just barely.

"I learned my lesson." 

And with that brief exchange, everything seemed to return to normal. Or at least, normal enough. The moment from the night before was conveniently relegated to a hidden corner of his memories.  

As they walked toward the dining room, he watched her out of the corner of his eye, with a flash of mischief.

"Don't you ever sleep, Marinette?" 

Marinette just walked as calmly as ever "I assure you, I sleep perfectly." 

Gabriel let out a snort, as always, he couldn't help the desire to provoke her. To try to get a reaction out of her. To shake her out of her damn perfect composure.

"Yeah? Funny, I could have sworn I saw you working day and night. Unless you've perfected the art of sleeping standing up." 

Marinette turned her head slowly, with a look that had the precision of a razor-sharp edge. 

"Not all of us have the luxury of sleeping until noon, sir. Some of us work to pay for the alcohol that others waste." 

"Are you suggesting I should pay you to put up with me?" He looked at her in mock disbelief. 

The young woman looked at him with a fake smile, full of sarcasm "Don't worry, sir. Hell already pays me for that." 

Gabriel let out a short, genuine laugh, one of those that rarely escaped his lips. She had done it again. She had disarmed him for an instant.

They reached the dining room. The table was already set. A perfectly arranged breakfast, there was black coffee, fresh fruit, scrambled eggs with herbs, everything just right.

The man sat down. The girl too, without waiting for an invitation. Because for her, it was no longer necessary.

Gabriel began to eat, he ate with appetite, almost with enthusiasm, which was strange for him. Normally he was methodical even at breakfast, but that morning... something had changed. Maybe the break. Or maybe the presence of Marinette, who didn't eat or talk but was there.

And somehow, that made him feel... companionable.

"Have you been wearing glitter things, Marinette?" He asked suddenly, looking up with a half smile and a piece still in his hand.

"Yes," She looked at him, slightly surprised by the question, "Why?". 

"Audrey was right..." He blurted out as he took a sip of coffee "Your uniforms are pretty mediocre." 

Marinette narrowed her eyes, not looking offended, but not particularly amused either.

"I'm not putting sparkles on this thing" She replied dryly, pointing to her uniform with disdain.

"Is it mandatory to dress like that?" he chuckled under his breath, resting his fork on his plate "No wonder you're always in a bad mood." 

"I'm not always in a bad mood. And yes, it is obligatory." 

Gabriel grimaced, lowering his gaze to his plate, but his thoughts weren't on breakfast. He paused for a moment, fork hovering halfway. The man looked at her again, now with a sincere gesture.

"You must hate it. Taking care of unpleasant people, following orders all day, wearing clothes that look like they were designed for no one." He sighed. "Nothing sadder than seeing a woman in an outfit that doesn't flatter her." 

"Now I'm a humanitarian cause?" She raised an eyebrow 

"I can't believe I went out with you looking like this" He leaned slightly towards her, amused. 

"You're terrible, sir" She exclaimed flatly.

"Don't you want to wear something different" He insisted, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret.

"No, sir" She replied without hesitation.

But that word, sir, this time it didn't sound like a show of respect. Not even as mockery. It was... something else. A gentle provocation. A reminder of the barrier she had drawn for herself.

Gabriel pursed his lips in a restrained smile, taking another bite without taking his eyes off her. She didn't look angry, though she didn't let on either. Her face was the same as always. Impenetrable.

"It's hard to tell when you mean it," He announced with a hint of playful reproach. "You could at least pretend you mean it." 

"What for? You wouldn't believe me" She folded her arms, leaning against the back of the chair

"Maybe I would if you ever blinked while you were talking." 

"Does that bother you?" 

"No," He replied as he cut a piece of fruit. "It bothers me." 

"I like that." 

The sentence hung in the air for a second. A second longer than necessary.

Gabriel looked up, she was still watching him. And then they noticed it. That look. That slight glint. An invisible crossing of something that wasn't supposed to be there. 

They both looked away at the same time as if someone had rung a bell marking the end of the game.

The man stood there, staring at his plate. He was hungry, yes, but the appetite was no longer the same. The dining room felt larger and emptier.  

Gabriel continued to eat in silence and Marinette continued to watch him in silence.

Shit.

They had made it. They had both masterfully ignored the memory of the night before as if nothing had happened, as if they were just two more strangers, yet the feeling wouldn't go away. It was not the same room, not the same time, not the same context. But somehow... it felt the same.

The breakfast became mechanical, boring, and tense. Neither of them said anything. As if they were waiting for the atmosphere to cool down, like someone who waits for a stove to stop being hot to clean it. 

He finished his meal and got up, intending to go to his office. She followed him as usual, without uttering a word. Protocol dictated it.

He walked, and she followed. End of interaction.

They entered the office, that space that always smelled of cleanliness and poorly made decisions.

Marinette was heading, as was customary, to the corner where she spent most of the day. But before she could get there, Gabriel's voice stopped her.

"No, Marinette. Come." 

The young woman looked at him, confused, but obeyed. She stopped in front of him, erect, without losing that air of neatness.

"What are your measurements?" He asked, straightforward as if talking about something as trivial as the weather.

The girl frowned, doubting whether she had heard right "What do you want to know for?" 

"Do you really want me to leave them dressed like that?" he replied, as if that were answer enough.

"I already told you no." 

"Why not?" He insisted, holding her gaze "Who should I talk to for the dress code?". 

"Do what you want; I won't wear that," She blurted out dryly and turned away, now really annoyed. 

Marinette went to her corner with arms crossed, body tense, gaze sharp. Gabriel watched her, exasperated. She was like a cat. He'd touch something delicate clothing, a design, a comment that didn't even seem important and she'd get her claws out. She would bristle all over.

Why on earth? It was just a damn uniform, what was wrong with her?

He couldn't ask her, of course. Because if he did, she'd ask him about his behavior and he had no way to answer.

They were both bound, the man out of shame, and she...too? Or was it pride? Fear? Denial? He didn't know.

Gabriel returned to his place, frustrated, he turned on the screen. He wasn't going to let it go. He didn't need permission. He just needed a starting point. The man began to draw.

With clean strokes and smooth lines, he wanted it to be functional but also beautiful. Elegant, without excess. Practical, but with details that only someone observant would notice.

Every now and then, his eyes slid to her. The young woman stood in her corner, gaze fixed straight ahead, jaw clenched. She seemed to want to hang him with her eyes.

Marinette was still in her corner, arms crossed with a scowl, as if, with enough mental strength, she could make him explode right there. She had dealt with all kinds of clients; arrogant, egotistical, manipulative. But none of them had dared to try to change her uniform as if she were a doll.

She was upset, yes. But she also didn't like something.

Then he looked at her. Just for a few seconds. A quick glance, but loaded with something. Guilt. Or maybe... intent. And then he looked down again, focusing on his screen. 

The girl narrowed her eyes. Something in her chest told her she knew. She had no proof, no logic. But she knew.

Without thinking about it, or rather, overthinking it but not enough, she broke away from the wall. Her body was moving before her mind could stop her. Marinette went across the space like a shadow, silent, and reached him.

Gabriel didn't flinch. He didn't hide the screen, he didn't dissemble, he didn't do anything. He kept drawing. Drawing smooth, detailed lines, with rehearsed concentration.

Marinette averted her eyes to the monitor. And she saw it. A uniform. An elegant design, with defined cuts, sober, but with the aesthetics that only someone like him could imagine, and even though the figure in the drawing was generic, it was evident that he was doing it for her.  

It was obvious.

"Why don't you ever listen?" she asked, her voice dry. 

"I heard you, but it doesn't matter, technically, I'm your boss, so what's the difference.”

He sounded satisfied as if he had everything under control, but then Marinette looked him in the eye with total seriousness:

"It's wrong because he quit." 

Gabriel watched her with a confused gesture; what the hell had she just said? Yesterday, she had been about to be fired, and now... she was quitting?

"You can't" He stated with an expression that showed annoyance.

"Sure I can. You can fire me again, but I quit first," She replied, turning to leave.

"You were never fired," He blurted out, following her immediately. "We talked about that". 

But Marinette didn't stop. She paced annoyed, determined to leave the office. The man hurried his pace, he managed to catch up with her, and in an impulse to stop her, he reached out and grabbed her arm 

Big mistake. You should never surprise someone who is trained.

Instinctively, Marinette spun, grabbed his arm in one swift movement, and she used her own momentum to throw him off balance. With a twist of the wrist and a slight push, Gabriel ended up half leaning to the ground, his arm twisted back, controlled tightly. 

It wasn't painful, but it was humiliating.

Both were silent. The man's eyes were open, the young woman still holding him with bated breath.

The hallway was deserted. There were only the two of them, trapped in an absurd scene.

She let go of him immediately and stepped back a step as if she,, to,o, was surprised at what he had done.

"Don't touch me like that ever again" She stated without raising her voice, but with a voice that soaked in.

Gabriel watched her, still with his arm a little tense, unsure if he should be offended, annoyed... or fascinated.

Probably all three.

The girl tried to continue her retreat, determined, but he wouldn't allow it. Again. He reached out and grabbed her again.

This time, she didn't react forcefully; she didn't need to; she already knew who was touching her, so she simply lowered her other hand and held his wrist with moderate force. 

"I already told you not to touch me." 

"And you shouldn't leave me with the word in my mouth" He replied, not letting go of her.

It was like a silent war, a line in the sand and they were both stepping on it. 

"It would be too easy to disengage," She warned, lowering her voice a little. "Or squeeze tighter...but you know what that would entail." 

Yes, he knew, he could end up hurt. She could end up in trouble, with a resignation sealed forever or lawsuits.  

Although they were both so tense that the air seemed flammable, Marinette just tugged on his arm, demanding he let go, but he wouldn't do it. Gabriel was still holding her, not tight enough to hurt, but tight enough to let her know he wasn't giving up so easily.

And just when everything was about to break...

"What's going on here?" 

Renaud's voice interrupted them like a bucket of ice water. They both turned at the same time, frozen as if they had been caught committing the most heinous crime in the world. 

Gabriel was still holding her arm and Marinette her wrist, they seemed arrested in a scene that neither could justify.

The man let go first. The young woman did the same almost instantly as if the spell had been broken. But no one said a word. The two just stared at him, motionless. As if they didn't know how to explain that moment.

Renaud kept the same expression as always, he watched them both with annoyance and disappointment.

"What's going on?" he repeated. 

Silence.  

"Office. Now," Renaud ordered, turning in the direction of the hallway without waiting for a response. Gabriel and Marinette exchanged a quick glance, but neither said anything. They simply followed him. The footsteps of the three sounded heavy on the floor as if they were marching toward punishment.  

Renaud walked like a frustrated father who had just found his children fighting over an expensive toy. Mr. Agreste was an adult, why was he behaving like a child?

And at the same time, the most ironic part was that since they had come to that house, so had Marinette, was it the house? Was it him? Or was it the two of them that every time they were around, they brought out the worst in each other?

Renaud entered the office, stood in front of them like a judge, and looked at them both. They were standing side by side, silent and uncomfortable. But still with that invisible spark burning.

"I'm going to need a very good explanation" He interlocked his fingers with forced patience.

Gabriel does the talking.  

"Why do I have to explain myself to you?" The tone wasn't haughty, it was defensive. As if he was protecting himself with words before anyone tried to judge him.  

It was his way of twisting the situation, turning it upside down to distract attention, but Renaud was no novice, he kept his posture straight at all times. 

"Sir, it's disturbing what we saw on the cameras. I need to clarify." 

"So what are the cameras for?" Gabriel pleaded.

"If we go by that alone, Marinette would be fired for attacking you... or you for harassing her. Which side is worse?" Renaud didn't fall for the provocation. 

The question floated, so direct and harsh. She wasn't looking for blame, she was looking to put perspective.

The cameras' view was limited and many of the real interactions between Gabriel and Marinette occurred out of focus, where the lens could not read the silences or interpret the looks.  

Others were seeing something very different from what was really going on between the two.  

"It wasn't Monsieur's fault; it was mine," Marinette interjected. 

The sentence was precise, without hesitation.  

Gabriel watched her out of the corner of his eye, was she saying that to protect him? Or because she wanted to get fired? It was impossible to know; Marinette was cunning, and at that moment, he had no way of deciphering whether that cunning was being used to his advantage... or against him. 

"What upset you so much, Marinette?" Renaud asked. 

"I told her that her uniforms are hideous." Gabriel took the floor, without sarcasm, "And given my image, I can't allow it. But, apparently, she disagrees." 

Renaud turned his face toward her "Is that true?" 

"I'm fine with it. And if it's a requirement to work here...then I won't." 

The answer dropped like a stone in the pond.

"It's not an obligation." He made it clear: "Clothing is not a punishment; it's a method of expression. And if you disown it so much, you are free to wear whatever you want." 

"You said you would leave me no choice" She countered. 

"I said I was the boss, and it didn't matter." He defended himself as if that distinction made any real difference.

"It's almost the same thing" She retorted, without raising her voice, but with that dryness of hers that could hurt more than a shout.

"Whatever, Marinette. Don't use it. Shit, I'll do absolutely nothing anymore" He snorted, tired. 

"Do whatever you want" She replied instantly.  

The tension in the room was thick.  

"Marinette" Renaud reprimanded her. 

"Am I in trouble, sir?" She did not lower her head. 

"We'll talk, you and I." He pointed and then addressed Gabriel just as sternly ."Sir, we appreciate the gesture, but we'd rather be like this. We won't take care of it forever." 

The sentence was like a crack opening in the ground beneath his feet, a jolt. Gabriel stared at it without saying anything, wouldn't you take care of him forever?

Of course. That was logical. But... Why did it feel strange?

Gabriel turned his face slightly, and looked at Marinette, she was still staring straight ahead, without a gesture. Like a soldier. A fucking soldier, was she quitting or not?

But he couldn't ask, not now and certainly not in front of Renaud.

"I'll be back in a moment, sir; I won't be long," Renaud motioned for Marinette to follow him, and they both left the office, leaving the man in silence there.

And of all the silences he had been in, it was the most unbearable.

 

---

 

Meanwhile, outside the office, a few meters away, Renaud and Marinette were standing. They moved no farther away; neither could leave Gabriel completely alone.

Renaud had his arms crossed, his posture relaxed but his eyes attentive. The young woman, her hands stuffed in her trouser pockets, was staring at the opposite wall as if the plaster was easier to face than any human expression.

"You know what I saw didn't look good at all," He pointed out, breaking the silence. "It looked like you were attacking him." 

The girl looked down for a second, breathing with some discomfort before answering "I didn't intentionally attack him. He surprised me... and you know how he reacted." 

Renaud nodded slowly. He knew perfectly well what he was referring to. That automatic response, that almost instinctive defense she'd carried over from training. 

"Are you all right, Marinette? He's not... bothering you, is he?" 

That, Right? Was more than just a word. It was an open pause, a door Renaud was leaving ajar so that she, if she wanted to, could speak. He wasn't pushing her, but offering her a way out.

"He does, but not like that. His way of being..." She paus.ed "Sometimes I feel like we're taking care of a spoiled chi,ld" She admitted. 

Renaud interrupted her "It's our responsibility, yes, but... really, if you don't feel good here, you can leave." 

Marinette turned to him, confused for a moment, was he dismissing her? Or was he simply asking her to leave?

"It was silly of me" She blamed herself. 

"Silly or not, it's important how you feel."

"I feel fine. He's difficult...but not that kind of difficult." 

Renaud let out a long exhalation as if his patience was dancing on a tightrope. "I think it would be better if you didn't stay any longer."

She frowned, puzzled, was he kicking her out? Subtly?

"I'm not kicking you out," He clarified at once. "It's just my opinion. I feel like when you're around him, it's like you have a rock in your shoe." 

The young woman looked down, biting her tongue, but she was quick to respond

"It's nothing. Really, I want to be here." 

Renaud watched her with that gesture between protective and stern that he usually used when things got out of control.

"Didn't you yell at him that he was quitting?" he reminded her "You can't be quitting every time you get upset with him." 

"I just said it," She replied, without hesitation. "I don't want to quit." 

"Fine. But do you understand that your behavior wasn't the best? I'll talk to him too. We are his employees, but that doesn't mean he can walk all over us." 

"It wasn't his fault" She reiterated. 

"If it wasn't, then make the situation worse. You could have broken his arm" He pointed out. 

"I didn't do it with force. I didn't even hurt him." 

"We have enough problems as it is, Marinette. Are you going to continue to behave like two children?" 

"We don't..." She started to say.

"I see it on the cameras. They're like two infants fighting," He announced, annoyed. 

Of course, Renaud had seen only fragments. Isolated scenes, snippets edited by the angle of a camera that neither heard nor interpreted intentions. He hadn't seen how, at times, Marinette and Gabriel could coexist perfectly. He had not seen the quiet early mornings, nor the brief moments in the corridors, nor the silences that were not uncomfortable.

Marinette had completely forgotten that there were cameras all over the house; she forgot that someone was watching,, and above all, she forgot that her behavior was not invisible, even if it was not completely understood.

The young woman didn't explain that either. She didn't say that she was different when her companions weren't there, but that... it didn't matter anymore.

Renaud was there watching, and what he saw, was all that counted.

The girl had nothing more to add, what could she say? Any words sounded useless before leaving. She just looked down, keeping her eyes fixed on a spot on the ground that didn't seem to move as if she could anchor herself there.

"I don't understand what bothered you so much," Renaud continued. "But think very well what you want to do, Marinette. These scenes cannot be repeated." 

"I know... I'm sorry" She murmured, barely audible. 

Renaud nodded slowly, as if accepting her words, but not quite. He moved half a step closer, lowering his voice slightly.

"I know this is sometimes difficult. But remember it's temporary. This job is always temporary." 

And Marinette knew that. She had lived it over and over again. She had been in so many private residences that she had stopped counting them. 

Some for weeks, some for months. But none long enough to feel like she belonged. And when she ever started to adjust, to find routines, to get to know the sounds of the house or the client's schedule, the notice to leave would come. It was always time to leave.

The girl had spent so little time there..... How was it possible to feel such a hint of attachment? To what, exactly? To a house full of cameras? To a man who was getting on her nerves? Or to something deeper and more confusing that she didn't want to face?

It was pathetic and more pathetic, her saying she didn't want to quit, even though she had shouted it just minutes ago.

"Yes, sir. I know," She mentioned with the steadiest voice, though inside, she felt a little hollow.

"I hope so," He replied with a sigh. "Now I have to talk to sir as well." 

"I understand." 

Renaud looked at her one last time. He never thought he would have to reprimand her. But the attitude of both of them left much to be desired. The man pursed his lips, resigned, and turned away, walking toward Gabriel's office.

Marinette stood there. She didn't move an inch. Her back was straight and her gaze fixed on the closed door that had just swallowed Renaud.

It had all happened in mere moments, in the blink of an eye, the situation escalated so quickly that it now felt as if they had just been caught fighting in a schoolyard. As if they were both in detention.  

It was bizarre, immature, absurd.

The initial fury was beginning to fade, to thin out like smoke and with a cooler mind, a part of her was beginning to think that maybe she had overreacted a little, not quite.  

He felt he could do whatever he wanted, and she had clearly told him she didn't want to, but... it had been an automatic, impulsive reaction and now they were stuck in this awkward choreography where no one knew how to take the next step.

Neither of them had planned it and that, perhaps, was the most worrying thing of all.

 

---

 

Gabriel was in the garden, sitting on the cold stone steps overlooking the garden. In his hand, between his fingers he held a lit cigarette, crackling with an undecided ember.

He couldn't believe he had resorted to that.  

He had already proven that alcohol was not a good idea, not with his temper, not with constant vigilance, not with everything that depended on his lucidity. 

The man had to do something before his body made decisions for him. Smoking was not to his liking. He detested it, actually. But there he was, smoking. 

Gabriel wasn't that bothered by Renaud's words; the man treated him like he was a child, and after that little conversation, he warned him something. 

"You must stop bothering Marinette."  

And yes, of course, Gabriel wasn't going to pretend he didn't. But what had really started all that chaos...had been a damn good intention.  

He'd just wanted to do something for her. Something that was up to her standards. Something worthy, and she'd turned him down in the worst way.  

Whenever something led to design, she reacted like that. As if he was touching a sensitive wire that no one else was supposed to touch.  

He let out a puff of smoke, bitter and dense, and thought it was all utter stupidity.

The faint creak of the door alerted him. Someone sat down next to him. He didn't immediately look at the person; only when he turned his head slightly did he see Marinette.

Gabriel had not seen her for quite a while. After Renaud spoke to him, no one else came to replace her on watch. He had been left alone. As punishment, perhaps. Or maybe Renaud was more upset than he let on.  

And since he didn't ask about her, he didn't know what her situation was either.

"I want..." She began in a softer voice than usual.

He interrupted her immediately without looking at her "If you dare to apologize, I will never speak to you again in my entire life." 

"It won't be long" She replied without drama, almost as if she took him seriously.

The man sketched a half-smile, cocking his lips to one side without removing the cigar from his mouth. The gesture was involuntary, almost childish.

"How did you get that?" She asked, pointing to the cigar with a waggle of her eyebrows.

"One of your classmates gave them to me." 

"You still don't know their names?" 

"What for?" 

Gabriel didn't really care, knowing Renaud's name and hers was enough. The rest was filler, background people.  

He let out smoke again, letting it get lost in the darkness.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I'm still on duty." 

"Hadn't you resigned?" 

"You want my resignation?" She turned her head toward him, without irony. 

"Do what you want, Marinette. I'm sure you'll be upset about that too" He pursed his lips. The cigarette crackled lightly between them, crushed unintentionally.

"About the design..." She started again.

Gabriel stopped her with a tired gesture "I wasn't going to force you to wear it. And it doesn't matter anymore. I threw it away." 

He had done so, without thinking too much. Why keep something that only provoked rejection? That damned design had been the source of the fuss. There was no point in keeping it.

"Too bad," She commented without sarcasm. "I liked it." He turned his face to her quizzically. "The pattern you made on the collar, those almost imperceptible lines. They lined up with the house logo but reversed. Symbolic... as if to say that those who wore it, were the opposite side of the coin."

Gabriel blinked, surprised, the young woman had barely caught a fleeting glimpse of the design. She hadn't even studied it, not really and despite that, she had picked up on something that no designer would notice at a glance.

"How...how did you notice that?" He looked at her as if seeing someone different. 

"I'm good with details" She shrugged. 

The whole atmosphere felt different, as if, at last, they were speaking the same language.

No, of course, it wasn't simply that she was good with details. Anyone could notice a general difference, a spot out of place, a color that didn't match...

But that specific detail, the lines of the collar, the inverted symbolism, the almost cryptic intent of the design, was not something that could be seen with a quick glance, and she had seen it, and she had understood it.

The man wanted to ask more. He wanted to tell her something, to ask her another one of those questions he always ran into a wall with, but he held back.

First, because of Renaud's recent warning, no more provocations, no more pestering Marinette.

Second, because she never answered. Never directly. So he just kept watching her, the cigarette dangling between his fingers as he exhaled a slow puff.

It was unbelievable. The most interesting thing that had happened to him in years was a girl who just... started to care for him.

Gabriel all he could do was continue to stare at her in surprise. Not because of the comment about the design, but because she was there. So calm, as if she hadn't said anything. As if there had been no shouting or scuffling, no threats disguised as disclaimers. 

She was annoying. Exasperating. Sometimes she seemed purposefully made to irritate him, but at the same time, it felt good.

"I apologize for touching you" He blurted out with the tone of someone saying something they didn't plan on admitting.

"I'm sorry I attacked you," She replied quickly.

"I told you I didn't want an apology" He replied, barely turning his face, looking at her sideways.

"You also told me to do whatever I wanted." 

Gabriel pressed the edge of his cigarette between his lips and had to look away to keep from smiling. He couldn't be distracted for a second by her. She always twisted his arm, though not in the physical way. It was her way of responding.  

Of answering everything, without answering anything.

Marinette stayed by his side, saying no more. She had thought about it, she had reasoned it out in a thousand ways, and the more she thought about it, the clearer it became, she didn't want to leave.  

Gabriel was difficult, yes. But he was also interesting in a strange way like a puzzle one didn't know if one wanted to solve or just watch.  

What if she left him? What if tomorrow she heard that something happened to him? What if the former employee finally succeeded and she... just decided to leave? That idea stuck in her head like a cold nail. And she didn't like the way it felt.

The silence between them was long. Not uncomfortable. Not comfortable either. Just... natural.  

Gabriel twirled the cigar between his fingers, almost out of habit, and watched it go out. He hadn't noticed. Marinette watched him make that gesture, distracted, thoughtful, almost vulnerable.

"You don't know how to smoke," She indicated, breaking the silence gently.

"I never said I knew," He replied, raising an eyebrow. "Do you want one?".

"Are you going to share a vice with me?". 

"If you don't want to..." 

She reached out, without much thought, and he handed her one from his jacket pocket. She didn't light it right away. She just held it up, playing with it between her fingers.

"Do you have a light?" 

He pulled out the lighter. Their hands brushed as she took it. A minimal touch, barely skin against skin, but it was as if something invisible tensed between them.  

Neither said anything. 

Marinette lit the cigarette and handed it back. Gabriel put it away without looking at her. She didn't look at him either. But something in the atmosphere had changed.

They smoked in silence for a minute. Maybe two. Wisps of smoke rose between them, disappearing into the air.

They both looked at each other. Just for a moment. Just long enough. Her eyes were soft, without irony. His, serious, without mockery, but it was in that moment, right in that brief glance, that something was said without utterance. Something that went unrecognized. That neither of them wanted to notice.

They smoked for a few more minutes, until Marinette looked down, suddenly uncomfortable. Not because of the man next to her, not because of the silence... but because, technically, she couldn't be smoking.

"I shouldn't be doing this" She muttered, more to herself than to him.

"What, smoking?" 

"I'm on duty. I'm only supposed to smoke in my free time, and this isn't" She sighed, exhaling a light cloud, and looked up at the sky.

She didn't want to give Renaud any more reason to think she was irresponsible....

"I shouldn't be smoking either," He confessed in a low, almost muffled voice. "My mother didn't like it. She always warned me that if she caught me smoking, she'd make me eat that cigarette."

The girl watched him out of the corner of her eye, barely turning her head. He was talking about his parents, really? No one knew anything about Gabriel's parents, not even if they were alive or dead, but now he was... talking. As if it was normal. As if it wasn't important.

"She'd be really upset," He added, and the cigarette barely balanced on his lips before he took another puff.

"My parents don't like cigarettes either..." She smiled, a little surprised by what she had just heard "But I do. It's weird, isn't it?" 

"And what do your parents like?" 

"Being more gooey than honey" She rolled her eyes somewhat tenderly, as if she already knew where that was going. 

Gabriel let out a choked, sudden, short laugh as if he couldn't help it. She looked up at him immediately.

"What are you laughing at?" 

"Your parents too?" He looked back at her, with that new spark in his eyes that appeared rarely. 

"Also what?" 

"They're like that too. Like mine." 

The young woman laughed briefly "No... no, your parents can't be like that." 

"Why not?" 

"Because you're so..." She paused. She didn't want to provoke him. Not again. They'd had enough fights for today. 

"You're not exactly a sugar cube" He cocked his head to the side with a half smile. 

Marinette shook her head, not offended. She couldn't argue with that. Not with sincerity.

"My parents sound different from me. Sometimes I wonder at what point...I don't know, I lost that sense of sweetness. I grew up watching them be a team, hugging all the time, trusting each other, no room for doubt. I... I don't know how to be like that." 

"Your parents sound nice." He looked down at the unlit cigarette on the floor. "They sure are nice people." 

"Yours sound nice too, I wish they would visit you and not Audrey Bourgeois."

"They were excellent people. But I'm afraid you'll never get to meet them.”

The weight of those words fell between the two of them like the remnants of a cigar. There was no dramatic pause. No change of tone. Just those words were enough.

The young woman said nothing. Not because she didn't want to, but because she didn't know what would be appropriate to say, How do you comfort someone who has already made it clear that her parents are dead?

Marinette just continued to smoke in silence, next to him. Completely forgetting that she shouldn't be doing it.

And for a moment, the garden, even if it was lonely, seemed like a place where one could stay a little longer, just a little longer.

 

---

 

It was already night; the day had been very strange, fights, scoldings, and apologies, all in the same day and with the same person; I was beginning to believe that the confinement was somewhat to blame; when had he ever behaved like that?

Gabriel was in his room, already in bed, with the lights off and his eyes still open. 

The silence was too heavy... until a faint, sharp, continuous beeping sound made him sit up with a start. He did not recognize it. It was no ordinary alarm. It wasn't his watch or the ventilation system. 

Before the man could even get to his feet, the door swiftly opened and Leroy crossed the threshold with an unusually serious expression.

"Sir, come with me" He ordered, without raising his voice.

Gabriel didn't have time to ask. He slipped on the first thing he could find and went out after Leroy. Leroy spoke low over his communicator, giving quick directions, not losing sight of his surroundings.

He led him into the kitchen. "Here, don't move," Leroy ordered. 

Gabriel nodded, stunned; he didn't understand anything; would it be some protocol? He had never been informed of anything like this. He was about to demand an answer, but Marinette appeared. She entered the kitchen armed.

That shook him more than the alarm, did she always carry a gun? Where did she keep it? He had never seen her with one. 

And even more disconcerting, she wasn't wearing her uniform or her usual clothes, but something light, suitable for sleeping. Still, she looked focused, as if she had just come out of a field mission. The way she held her weapon left no room for doubt. If someone appeared in front of her, the young woman wouldn't think twice.

"Did you find anything?" She asked without losing her cool tone.

"The alarm near the garden went off," Leroy replied. "They're checking, but so far, nothing." 

Gabriel felt a shiver run down his spine, had someone tried to break in? To his house? At that hour?

Marinette approached him with her eyes glued to the kitchen as if, at any second, something was going to come out of the darkness. 

The usual safety of the house, all that comfort, now seemed like a thin illusion. That girl, who minutes before had shared a cigarette with him in the garden, was now someone else. A protective shadow.

A thud was heard outside as if something had fallen. Gabriel tensed immediately, his heart skipped a beat, but Marinette and Leroy didn't move, didn't even blink. Only their gazes changed, sharper, more intent.

The girl turned to him, took a step, and bowed slightly.

"Are you all right?" 

He nodded, though he wasn't sure. He felt his throat dry. He had so many questions, but the moment didn't seem appropriate to speak, could he say anything? Did he have permission to break that almost ritual silence that surrounded them?

Marinette was still close, so close that he could sense the warmth of her body, the firmness of her posture, the invisible tension in her jaw. But also something else, something she didn't know how to name. It was a strange closeness, filled with something beyond danger.

Then, for no apparent reason, she lowered the gun slightly. Not quite. Just a subtle gesture, but he noticed it, as much as the way their eyes met for a second, longer than necessary.

And then, the silence returned unbroken.

Renaud burst into the kitchen with hurried steps, visibly upset.

"Mr. Agreste, are you all right?". 

He just nodded. But the question was repeated. Once. Twice. Marinette came closer. Leroy did too. The voices were different, but the concern felt the same. Everyone was more tense than usual. More alert. More human.

"Did something happen?" She asked, turning to Renaud.

"We didn't find anyone," Renaud announced. "But the alarm isn't that sensitive. It definitely detected someone." 

The words stuck like a knife in the forced calm of the kitchen.

Gabriel raised his face slightly, catching each one. Since Felix's break-in, they had installed new measures, hidden sensors, and silent upgrades. But even with that... someone had managed to get close. Again. And that only meant one thing; that someone knew how to get around.

"We've already checked everything. Maybe whoever it was got spooked and left before they could get in" Renaud reported.

"Can we be sure he's gone?" She asked without dropping the gun.

"We are. He didn't have time to get in. The doors and windows are secured" Renaud stated.

Gabriel lowered his head slightly as if he wanted to process it... but he couldn't. It wasn't enough for him.

Bruno and Fernand were patrolling. Renaud spoke with confidence. Everything seemed to return to its calm. But not him. His blood was still running cold. The adrenaline was still there, throbbing in his fingertips. His home, his space, his safe zone... had been violated.

It wasn't paranoia,; itwasn't his mind playing with the shadow either,; itwas real.

"Don't worry, sir. We'll keep checking, keeping watch... and we'll alert the police." 

Gabriel watched him and for an instant, he thought he was going to laugh. Not out of derision, but out of desperation. How could he be calm? How was he supposed to sleep now? He felt the hairs on his arm bristle with every draft. Every creak of the house was a threat.

And Marinette noticed it was the first time she'd ever seen him like this. 

Gabriel always walked with his chest forward, as if the world owed him something. As if nothing could touch him. As if the pain was a distant rumor. But now... he seemed broken. Not quite, but cracked. As if what he feared most was not that someone would come in to kill him... but that his privacy would be invaded.

"Are you sure there are no intruders?" She asked. 

"The doors lock at nightfall, and only with the control can they be opened; the alarm went off, so we immediately did not move there; someone can't have entered," Renaud confirmed. 

"Then Mr. Agreste doesn't need to continue here; yes, it is safe; he should go back to his room" " she pointed out.

"Just let Bruno and Fernand check it" She nodded. 

Maybe the person did not know about the alarm, tried to enter, and when caught, left,; staying to try to enter the house was dangerous, but they had not seen nor captured anyone.

The signal from Bruno and Fernand came moments later, they had already checked the room, and there was no danger, and since everything was secured, there was no reason for Gabriel to continue there. 

Security was their job.

The young woman took a step towards him, still holding the gun, though more relaxed.

"Sir," She called to him in a serene, almost soft voice, "Did you escort him to his bedroom?"

There was no sarcasm, no mockery. Just respect. And something else. Something intimate, that neither of them named.

Gabriel watched her; it was a second, just long enough to know that, no matter how hard he tried, that night he would not sleep, but she nodded, and without another word, he walked beside her.

Marinette walked a few steps ahead, the gun still in her hand, in case it needed to be used. Her eyes scanned the darkness of the hallway, alert for the slightest movement, the slightest rustle. Gabriel followed her silently, without saying a word, which was rare for him. Even at the worst times, he usually had something to say, a joke, a sour remark, a veiled criticism. But now... nothing.

Arriving at the room, the young woman didn't stop, she entered first. She moved with confidence and fluidity that left no doubt that she was well-trained And not just trained but used to that kind of situation. 

She checked every nook and cranny with her eyes, turned her wrist to cover blind spots, and only when she was satisfied, slowly lowered the gun.

Gabriel, waiting in the doorway, had watched her in complete silence. There was something hypnotic about the way she moved. Efficient, graceful... lethal.

"All in order. Sleep easy" She mentioned in a calm voice, soft as she had never used it before. 

Sleep easy?

The man walked through the door slowly, as if he still didn't think it was safe. He walked over to the bed, sat on the edge, and stayed there, not moving, elbows resting on his knees. 

He didn't look like someone about to sleep. Rather, someone who didn't know how to be at peace with his own home again.

The girl watched him, cocking her head slightly. She couldn't blame him. She knew what it was like to feel like even your home didn't belong to you.

"Do you want me to stay?" She asked. 

"Are you crazy?" He turned his face toward her, arching an eyebrow. 

Marinette smiled sideways but didn't insist. She walked slowly toward him, stopped a few paces away, lowered the gun gently, and allowed herself something she rarely did;:speak with real tenderness.

"We're going to stay and keep a watch" " she assured ."We'll secure everything. No one gets in. We dowon'test until you're safe." 

Gabriel looked up at her. There was something in the way he said it...it wasn't an empty promise. It was a certainty. And what surprised him most was not what she said, but who said it.

That young woman with sharp answers and teasing smiles... she was speaking to him with a warmth that didn't seem like her own, but which, in that instant, covered him like a blanket.

"You're not going to sleep tonight, are you?" He asked.

"I'll sleep another day" There was no drama in her voice. Just conviction.

Her fingers slid a little further down his arm, slowly, until they reached his wrist. Without regard, without permission, she entwined her fingers with his. And there, for an instant, she held him. 

It was a brief gesture, perhaps only a second, but it left something suspended in the air, something neither of them wanted to break immediately.

The man looked down at their intertwined hands. He said nothing. He couldn't.

The girl smiled barely, barely a soft line on her lips, then released his hand gently. She straightened and turned toward the door, but before she left, she turned one last time.

"Rest. Nothing else is going to happen tonight" And the young woman left the room. 

Gabriel stood motionless, staring at the place where their hands had been joined. He could still feel the warmth of hers, the security in her touch. And for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel alone.

He lay back slowly, his heart still pounding, not because of fear...but because of something else. Something he didn't quite understand, but which had already settled in their midst.

Outside, in the house, there was still the question of who had wanted to enter.

But inside the room, in the darkness and silence, something else had begun to break through. 

An invisible bond, born of a turbulent night.

And as he closed his eyes, Gabriel knew without knowing how, he would not forget that touch. Nor that voice. Nor the implicit promise she had just made to him without words.

Notes:

That's why I wanted to change what happens in this story with Gabriel's parents, I didn't know he would love his parents so much in the series, but yes, here Jonnhy and Gabrielle are dead.

Regarding the chapter, who would have tried to enter the Agreste house?

And, Marinette, why are you reacting like that for a design.

Thanks for being here!

Chapter 10: So slight that it almost didn't happen.

Summary:

The inquiries and questions about the intrusive mystery continue. Gabriel and Marinette get closer and closer. An attempt by Marinette to find out more, though, has slight consequences.

Nooroo was standing in front of the concrete wall, it was already daylight, so he could check the place without any problem. 

The wall was high and smooth, with no cracks, no ledges, and no place where a foot could stand. And yet, there it was. 

The exact spot where the alarm had been triggered. He looked closely. There were no visible marks, no footprints, and no damage, but the alarm was not triggered on a whim. To get there without help, the intruder would have had to climb, and scaling a wall like that in the dead of night required not only strength but exceptional skill.  

A ladder would be the logical choice, but there was no sign that one had been leaning there. And even if it had, where would he have hidden it next? There simply wasn't time. Nooroo narrowed his eyes. No, whoever had tried to get in had done it with technique, with speed... and with desperation.  

He'd received the call minutes after the alarm went off, and though he'd expected a simple technical error, he'd been informed that everything had been checked. Rigorously. The alarm had been tested earlier that morning and everyone had seen that it worked perfectly.  

A bird, an insect, a cat? No. The sensors were not triggered by that. It had been someone. Someone with intent.  

"Are you done?" Renaud asked, approaching him. 

Nooroo nodded "I'd like to speak to sir, if you don't mind."

"No, not at all," he replied, "He must be in the dining room."

The officer followed the man; as they walked, he kept thinking of the questions piling up in his head: why take such a risk? Why, just now, who was that shadow lurking around the house? If the assassination attempt had not been enough, this new attempt only made it clear that this person would not give up so easily.

When they reached the dining room, the last thing she expected to hear was laughter.  

Gabriel was laughing. He was sitting at the table, with one of his bodyguards nearby. The young woman was smiling too. The scene seemed out of tune with the tense atmosphere of the past few hours. But as soon as Nooroo crossed the threshold, the laughter stopped.  

"Mr. Agreste, the officer would like to speak with you" Renaud stepped forward to speak. 

"Would you like to sit down?" Gabriel asked with forced calm. 

"I'm fine, sir. It will be very quick."

"Why, do you have to go sit at your desk and do nothing?" Gabriel replied with a raised eyebrow. 

"I assure you we do what we can."

"Someone tried to break into my house...and you come and say you do what you can" He let out a dry laugh.   

"You must be patient, sir. It is not simple to search for a nameless, faceless person" Nooroo stood his ground. 

"Your answer reassures me," Gabriel replied sarcastically. "I was thinking of living locked up here forever".

"I assure you that will not be the case,se," Nooroo insists. "Now then... Could you tell us what your nephew came here for?" 

Silence stretched across the dining room like a shadow in the hall. Gabriel riveted his eyes on Renaud, furious. As if the man had just betrayed him.

"We were doing our job," Nooroo continued, "And we noticed that Felix Fathom was in town recently. I don't think he crossed the sea at all." 

"To anything interesting," Gabriel replied without much thought, leaning back against the back of the chair with a half smirk. "Felix is so dramatic...".  

"Don't you think you should tell us? His nephew could be involved in all this."

"Felix doesn't trust anyone, I assure you it's impossible."

"It's known that you don't have a good relationship with your nephew. And that could help us." 

"He's not involved," Gabriel repeated, this time with a firmer tone. "Could he be trying to take advantage of my death? Undoubtedly. But if he were behind this... I'd be dead by now."

Nooroo watched him carefully. It was hard to tell if Gabriel was telling the truth. He had caught him lying, but the assurance with which he was defending his nephew now was unsettling.  

"The intruder must have had certain skills," Nooroo added in a cold tone. "And I know your nephew is very skilled."

"I already told you he has nothing to do with it."

"How about we ask Felix directly?" 

Gabriel's face hardened instantly. He sat up sharply, squeezing the edge of his plate tightly.  

"Don't even think about it," He spat. "You want to bother him, why don't you better do your damn job?". 

Without waiting for an answer, Gabriel pushed the chair back and walked away with hard steps, but inside, there was no anger. There was something deeper; fear. Felix's warning still echoed in his mind.

Marinette was quick to get up from the table and follow him, without a word. She could read him. And that departure was not out of pride. It was for something darker.  

The officer followed him with his eyes until he disappeared down the hallway.  

"It's been a rough night," Renaud commented, approaching. "I doubt Mr. Agreste slept well after such a scare."

"Do you think Felix is involved?" Nooroo asked cautiously.  

"N,o" Renaud shook his head without hesitation.n "If he had wanted to go in... he would have done so without a problem. It's not him. It's someone else."

Nooroo had no more to say. If two people close to the victim agreed on how dangerous this young man was and still dismissed him... maybe they should look elsewhere.  

"It must have been a restless night. Thank you for your time" Nooroo thanked politely. 

"Of course." 

"I'll take one last look at the wall before I retire if you don't mind."

"Go ahead."

The officer walked away, retracing his steps back to the back garden. There was no clue on the wall but there was something that wouldn't leave him alone.  

The alarm was silent. It would only go off if someone broke in. But how did the intruder have enough time to flee? Nothing fit.  

Unless he hadn't been alone...     

Nooroo was advancing towards the door leading to the garden, he would just take one last look to have that in his memory. But just as his hand brushed the doorknob, a murmur stopped his footsteps.

It was voices. He pricked up his ears. One of them was unmistakable, Gabriel's deep, slightly raspy voice. 

"I'm beginning to think I'll spend my whole life inside this house..." 

"Would there be something wrong with that?" The other female voice answered him without hesitation; he knew it was the voice of the girl who took care of him. 

"What a great idea," Gabriel replied sarcastically. "To be known as the town hermit."

"Better than the guy they killed in his own house."

Nooroo raised his eyebrows in mild disbelief. What an... unprofessional way to comfort someone. But no, he wasn't entirely surprised by the trust they shared. Ever since he'd watched them in the dining room, there was something about the way they looked at each other, how she followed him without hesitation. 

What did give him complete pause was what he saw when he opened the door.  

There they were.  

Both of them sat on the steps leading to the garden as if they were two ordinary people in an ordinary square. Gabriel was resting his elbows on his knees, keeping his eyes on the garden. Marinette was next to him, not exactly shoulder to shoulder, but close enough that the air between them seemed as one.  

They were laughing. It was barely a murmur between them as if they were sharing something only they understood.  

Nooroo couldn't see their faces clearly from that distance, but he was sure there were smiles. Smiles are not always seen in the mouth; sometimes they are guessed in the relaxed shoulders, in the posture leaning toward each other, in the lightness with which a sentence falls on the wind.  

The officer watched them for a few seconds more, without making a sound. It was not espionage. It was intuition. He had always had an eye for other people's emotions. He couldn't tell when someone was lying... but he could tell when he felt something.  

And there, between Gabriel and Marinette, there was something.  

Something subtle. Something they probably didn't even understand themselves yet. But it was there.  

Without a word, Nooroo let go of the doorknob. He had no interest in checking the wall once more. He wouldn't find anything new there. Not like what he had just seen.  

Nooroo turned and walked away from the house, taking that surgically precisely guarded image with him. It wasn't proof, of course. But sometimes, what the eyes capture is worth more than any evidence.  

 

---

 

"He's an idiot" Gabriel blurted out with a frown, looking out into the garden as if his gaze might vent his frustration.

"He's doing what he can" She replied, trying to calm him down.

"How did he find out Felix was here?" 

"It's the damn police," She bellowed, shrugging. "What else did you want?" 

"None of your partners talked?" 

"Of course not." She turned to him, offended. "Why would we tell him about something that happened a while ago?" 

"Maybe one of them got scared...and spoke up" He insisted, cocking his head to the side.

"It wasn't us" She denied firmly. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Very sure" Her answer reassured him. It wasn't just what she said, it was how she said it.  

Gabriel nodded as if he'd just closed a door in his mind. As if trusting her was an instinctive, natural act. Blind, perhaps. But comforting.

But the uneasiness was still alive, latent under his skin. She thought of the officer. About Felix. Of the possibility that it could all come flooding back.

The police had mentioned Felix as if he were a clue, a latent threat. He knew Felix wasn't the kind of person who left traces. If he really was involved, there would be nothing to investigate... because he would already be dead.

He just hoped the police would stay out of it, he didn't want another visit from his nephew.

A subtle movement brought him out of his thoughts. Marinette was coming down the stairs, out of the garden, ignoring him; Gabriel followed her with his eyes, not knowing exactly why.

The young woman went straight to the garden wall as if something had called her from there. He watched her for a few seconds, then went after her.

She stopped in front of the wall, crossing her arms. She watched him intently with sharp eyes and concentrated expression.

"The wall doesn't look easy to climb" She pointed out. 

"It was specially designed for that," He replied, standing next to her. "We didn't want thieves or, worse, paparazzi to climb it. It's supposed to be impossible to climb." 

"But we checked the other side," She muttered. "There was nothing. You need something to get up... unless..." She cut herself off abruptly, while her gaze was still fixed on the wall.

"What?" he frowned. 

"I'm not a researcher. Shit, I don't even know why I'm thinking it" She clicked her tongue, annoyed with herself.  

"Stop with the drama. It doesn't fit you" He gave her a sidelong glance.  

Marinette looked back at him, amused just for a second "Unless it was more than one person." 

Gabriel was silent. It took a moment for the idea to settle in his mind "You think there's more than one person behind me?" 

"I already told you it's not certain... Maybe I'm overthinking it" She answered quickly, as if wanting to take the weight off her words. 

The girl didn't want him to feel worse. Not after last night. But it was the only explanation that made sense.

Marinette looked at the wall again. Tall, smooth, cold. But she could picture it; one person climbing with the help of another, propelled or supported from below. As soon as the alarm went off, the second person must have picked up whatever it was they used, a rope, a pulley, a ladder, and disappeared. 

So, when they came out, there was no trace. Everyone was focused on checking the wall and protecting Gabriel. No one wondered if anyone else was fleeing in the opposite direction.

Gabriel was also looking at the wall as if seeing it for the first time. That gray structure had been built to keep him safe, to keep danger away. His house was a fortress disguised as a home. But someone had tried to break through it. And that night, he understood that even there he was no longer safe.

"These are my ideas" She lowered her voice.

"Two people... three people..." he muttered "Am I to be flattered that so many people are trying to kill me?" 

"Don't take my words seriously" She let out a light laugh.  

But the man had already done that. Because it made sense. Too much sense, actually, and he didn't know how to feel.

The same confusion he had felt during the attack crept back into his chest like an icy current. Insecurity, emptiness, confused feelings, the idea that, even within his own home, danger could lurk, it was confusing. 

They both kept staring at the wall as if waiting for an answer, an explanation, something to be written on its surface.  

"You needn't worry, it didn't even get past the wall" She tried to lighten the moment. 

"Learning from mistakes is so enriching." 

Apparently, the intruder hadn't given up on the first attempt, and failure only leads to success. 

"Come on," She encouraged. "Still missing the other defenses, the door...and even with that, missing us." 

"Should that reassure me?" He barely turned his face, never taking his eyes off the wall. 

"I thought you already trusted us."

"If they were all like you, maybe I would." 

"A compliment from you, am I dreaming?" she looked at him, amused. 

Gabriel smiled sideways, did she consider it flattery? He doesn't know the others and doesn't care, but he hopes that the next time they try to attack him, Marinette will be with him. 

He sighed and turned his gaze to her; yes, the young woman looked like the weakest creature in the world, but his arm knew that wasn't true. Thinking of her, led him to his next question.

"I must ask... Where do you keep your weapon?"

"It's not appropriate for me to say that to someone I protect" She replied, as if reciting a regulation, but with a spark in her eyes.

"But do you always carry it with you?" 

"What if the attacker is armed? We only use it in critical situations. That's why I don't keep it handy." 

"You're so scary", He mentioned with mock drama ."Surely that will be enough to make the attacker retreat in fear." 

Marinette let out a light laugh as he kept his eyes on her; he was surprised not only by the laughter but also by the way her lips curved and how her body seemed to relax for an instant. Then a yawn interrupted the laughter, big, impossible to hide. The girl covered her mouth with her hand, as if that would do any good.

She was tired. I could tell. While he went to sleep, they stayed awake securing every corner of the house. Searching for answers. Making sure he could sleep safely.

"You're tired," He pointed out. "You should go get some rest". 

"I'll do it on my own time" She replied, without even hesitating.

"What if I'm attacked now? I don't think you're in any condition to protect me...". 

"You have such a big ego that you think they will come immediately after a failed attempt" She answered without looking at him, but with a hidden smile in her voice.

He laughed as well. The times he had managed to beat her in those little verbal battles were few, but he always had fun trying.

"You were able to rest?" she asked suddenly, her tone casual.

"What else was I supposed to do?" he replied, downplaying it.

The man wasn't going to tell her that he made it because she was there, soothing him. That he slept that night like he hadn't for weeks.

"That's good to hear." 

Gabriel didn't know if she meant it sarcastically or seriously, but he liked the way she said it. His voice, though somewhat dry, seemed sincere.

"If I lock myself in my room? Will you go close those eyes?

"I'll stay outside your room" She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.  

Gabriel sighed, resigned, Marinette wasn't going to let him win this time. But that stubbornness, that constant presence, there was something comforting about it. Something he wasn't going to say out loud... but he was already starting to feel it.

"Are you always this unbearable?" He asked, with a tired half-smile.

"Aren't you biting your tongue?" She replied, barely arching an eyebrow.

"Maybe that's the reason they want to kill me" He expressed in a tone so calm that it managed to chill the moment. 

"There are a lot of people who couldn't stand it... but didn't try to kill you" She blurted out almost as an attempt at consolation.

"Do you have your own list by any chance? "He let out a small laugh, brief and humorless.  

"I'm not a fucking vindictive obsessive" She replied, confident.

Gabriel turned his head slightly towards her as if he wanted to study her expression but didn't insist. "I guess that makes you better than most," He muttered.

Marinette barely nodded; it wasn't flattery; of that, she was sure, but it felt like it was like he was patting her. 

The man looked away and swept his eyes over the garden, the wall, the grass swaying lazily in the breeze.  

"I never wanted this house to become some kind of prison with good architecture" He confessed, almost in a whisper.

"It's not," She replied confidently. "Not as long as you still own this space."

"Was that another attempt to cheer me up?" He cocked his head slightly, sketching a dull smile. 

"Just a way of reminding you that there are still things under your control" She replied, without losing her seriousness.

Gabriel's smile lingered a second longer, before fading. He couldn't help it. Every time he thought he understood this young woman, she showed a new, unexpected side.  

Tender the night before. Dangerous and encouraging now, how many versions did Marinette keep? And why did she hide them all as if afraid to show them? It was a pity.

"Do you want to stay here?" She asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

He hesitated, To go back inside? To that prison in disguise? To pretend normalcy when everything around him was crumbling in suspicion and threats? No. He didn't want to.

"I'd like to stay a little longer...if you don't mind" He answered at last. 

"I have to go with you everywhere" She commented, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

There was no judgment in her voice, no resignation either. Just... a quiet certainty that, wherever she went, she would be there.

Gabriel returned to the steps and sat down, letting his body lean back slightly. The girl followed him without much thought, sitting down almost at the same time as he did.

But something happened.

Without intending to, without calculating, his arm barely brushed hers. It was not intentional. He wasn't looking for anything. But he didn't pull away either.

And neither did she... neither.

There, in that little corner of the world where the threat still lingered, where there was still fear and uncertainty and unanswered questions, everything was starting to slow down. 

 

---

 

Marinette was smoking in the garden. She had already finished her watch with Gabriel, and the logical, healthy thing to do would have been for her to go and rest. But no. 

Instead, she is out there, alone, in the middle of the night silence and with the orange glow of the cigarette lighting up with every puff. The air is cool, damp from the dew just beginning to form, and the smoke dissipates slowly into the shadows.

Even if she wanted to, even if she closed her eyes and lay down on the bed, she could not sleep. She can't stop thinking. Not about Gabriel, not directly. But what happened? About the wall. On how the hell someone tried to get in through there without anyone noticing.

Her gaze remains fixed on that wall as if she's waiting for it to speak to her. It's not just the cigarette that keeps her there. It's not a habit. It's the restlessness stuck in her chest. She thinks of Felix. Of how he got into the house at that time.

Even though security back then wasn't as tight, even though they barely had cameras and little else, the possibility that someone could sneak in so easily doesn't leave her alone.

Then she remembers something.

The angle. The damn camera angle. The one she checked days before. The blind spot. Her eyes slowly drift down from the wall to the side of the house, right to the part where Gabriel's room is.

She stubs out the cigarette by pressing it against a stone and begins to move. The young woman slides down the side of the house, silently, like a ghost. Her boots make no sound against the grass. Her heart beats with the same force with which her instinct tells her that something is wrong. 

Arriving under Gabriel's window, she stands still for a moment. She watches, calculates, and then she begins to climb.

Unlike the wall, the facade of the house has structures, protrusions, and frames. Supports that make it more like a makeshift climbing wall. She does not find it complicated. His movements are agile and trained. Her hands are steady and her feet sure. Marinette climbs as if she has done it a thousand times.

When she reaches the level of the window, the girl realizes that there is no good place to hold on to. Her fingers cling to the frame, and with one leg propped up on a small ledge, she is barely standing. The window is closed. There is no way to push it without making noise.

So Marinette touches the glass. Two dry taps. Not loud, she just knocks on the window.

Inside, a few seconds pass. Until Gabriel's figure is drawn behind the curtain, approaching with a certain slowness, as if he had just woken up or had been interrupted in the middle of something. He opens the window with some abruptness, and his expression soon fills with bewilderment.

"Routine exercise?" He asks, in that gravelly voice he uses when he's trying to sound nonchalant but is clearly confused.

"May I come in?" She watched him as calmly as ever.

"You'd come in anyway" He looked at him a second longer. He almost looked amused.

The window, now open, makes everything easier. Marinette slips inside as nimbly as she climbs. Noiselessly. Effortlessly. Her feet touch the floor of the room as if it were part of the furniture. She moves naturally, without haste. As if she were in her room.

Gabriel barely moves away without taking his eyes off her. "What were you doing there?". 

She doesn't answer. Instead, she turns on her communicator with a single touch and brings it to his ear.

"Renaud, is there something strange you saw?". 

Renaud's voice comes through clear, if somewhat sleepy.

"All in order. Rest now, Marinette" The young woman turns off the communicator. 

"Shit." 

Marinette looks out the window again, annoyed and worried. From that perspective, now that she's inside, the shadow under the window is even more obvious. That damn blind spot - how could they have missed it? It was basic. Elementary. And yet there it is, in her face, as evidence of her mistake.

"Are you going to ignore me?" He insists from behind her.

The young woman slowly turns and watches him more closely. Since she entered she hadn't stopped to take a good look at him. He is dressed in sleepwear, a loose T-shirt, and soft cloth pants. His hair was disheveled, his expression tired, and from the still messy bed, she deduced that he was already in bed when she appeared at his window.

"I was just trying something out" She replied, emotionless.

"Coming up like a fucking burglar?" He squints.

"So you opened the window for a burglar." 

The joke is not funny to her. The man doesn't smile. But he doesn't protest either. They stand like that, facing each other, with the silence of the room. 

The light of the night lamp is faint, and everything in the room feels more intimate.

Marinette leans with one hand on the frame, carefully checking the angle from inside. She doesn't speak. She just watches. Gabriel moves too, approaching from behind slowly, as if that closeness had no intention, but no real justification either.

"That blind spot was there all along" She mutters, more to herself than to him.

He takes a step closer until he stands next to her, almost shoulder to shoulder, were it not for the man's exaggerated height, and as he does so, their hands brush. It is barely a touch. A gesture that could go unnoticed. But it doesn't break.

Neither of them turns away.

Marinette does not look at him. She continues to stare outside. Her hand still touches the window frame. His hand, casually resting on the edge, keeps brushing hers. The contact is minimal but constant. 

A line of heat begins to grow from the skin, burning slowly and without permission.

Gabriel watches her from the corner of his eye. He could speak. He could tease. But he doesn't. He knows that any words could ruin him. Not because there's anything to say, but because they both understand too well what's happening to put a name to it.

Marinette doesn't move either. She knows he's there, that he's looking at her, that his skin is still touching hers. And although the normal thing would be to move away, to mark a distance, she does not. The young woman might say something. She could move just a few centimeters and the contact would be broken. But she doesn't. 

"Are you going to tell me what you were doing climbing my house?" He asks, at last, barely cocking his face.

"I was just testing something" She turned slowly, glancing sideways at him. 

"Testing what, my patience?" He expresses with that little curve at the corner of his lips.

Marinette doesn't respond. She just squints her eyes for a second, then turns her gaze back out.

"You could have fallen" He pointed out. 

"But I didn't" She contradicted.

"You could have." 

"Are you worried about having to explain it to the press?"

Gabriel lets out a low, tired laugh, Why does she think everything around her revolves around the press? 

The brush of their arms is still there. It doesn't intensify, or change. But it doesn't break either. 

"Why aren't you sleeping?" He asks, after a silence.

"I couldn't." 

"Me neither." 

They look at each other, finally. For barely a second. Then, as if that gesture were too intimate, they both look away without breaking contact.

Apparently, that was enough. 

Marinette was still worried about the damn blind spot; she wondered how it could have happened; it wasn't something too serious because of the motion sensors installed but not covering the room of the man they cared for; how did it happen?

Gabriel moved without thinking; he took a couple of steps towards her, maybe to see what she saw, maybe simply because the space between them seemed to have disappeared in some strange way. He doesn't think about anything in particular. He doesn't plan anything.

He simply moved, even if she wasn't seeing anything in particular, just thinking about the camera problem. 

But in that instant, Marinette also turns to say something to him but she didn't expect him to be so close to her, like another extension of her body.

The collision is not strong, barely a brush, but it is so unexpected that they freeze.

The girl barely reaches his chest. Her forehead is dangerously close to his collarbone, almost touching him. And he, instinctively lowering himself to get a better look at her, narrows the distance even more.

Marinette's eyes lift and there are his, so close he can see the difference in color in her irises, so close he could count the breaths if he could think of breathing.

It's not an intentional approach, it's not a movement with a target. It's just an error of space.

But that mistake changes the whole atmosphere there. The silence becomes dense, almost insufferable.  

Gabriel barely half-opens his lips, not to speak, because his body also seems to have disconnected from his brain, as if he wanted to say something that was lost before it left his mouth. 

The young woman sees him. She sees everything. And all he can think is that she is trapped. He is so close. She's so close. And neither of them knows what the hell they're doing.

The silence between them goes on too long.  

Neither one knows what to say. Neither one knows if they should move or if they should break that thing that just happened.

Everything is so out of control.

A spark pierces the air, so brutal and so real that Marinette feels as if it has burned her. She doesn't think. She simply jerks away, as if she's been bitten by an insect.

"I need..." She mumbles, not finishing the sentence. She doesn't even know what she's saying "Leave." 

The young woman spun on her heels before he could say anything; her back was rigid, her breathing unsteady, and her heart was drumming in her ears.

And she without looking at him, without thinking, without stopping. The girl slides back down the window, sliding down as if she were being chased.

Gabriel doesn't stop her. He says nothing. He stays where he is, watching her from inside, breathing hard, wondering what the hell just happened.

There is no parting word, no excuse, no explanation...

Marinette descends without looking back, taking care of every grip, but her mind is racing. All she wants is to put distance between them. 

Maybe forget.

When her feet finally touch the garden ground, she doesn't stop. She doesn't check the place, much less look back at the window.  

The young woman simply walks away, as if the contact was something that should never have existed.

Marinette walks away as if each step is an attempt to tear something away from herself.

In the room, Gabriel is still motionless, as if someone had suddenly shut off his world.

Everything that happened there was extremely strange, fortunately for both of them, it happened out of the outside eyes.

Although, perhaps, even they could not have explained what happened moments before. 

 

---

 

Marinette reached her room and closed the door with more force than necessary. Never before had she been so grateful to sleep alone.

Renaud always insisted that she needed "a woman's space" and said it would do her good to have a place all to herself. 

At the time, it seemed silly to her, but she wouldn't mind sharing a room if necessary. But now she understood, she understood that Renaud knew exactly what he was saying. Because right now, if anyone else had been there, Marinette wouldn't know where to hide.

The young woman quickly shed her clothes. She changed into her night clothes with dry, almost angry movements. Then she went to the bathroom and turned on the light without looking at herself in the mirror as if her reflection was a threat.

As she brushed her teeth, her head boiled, what the fuck had that all been about? Nothing had happened. Absolutely nothing.

So why did she feel as if something had happened? There were no words out of place, no strange movements, not a damn brush with intent. Just a moment, one that she didn't even know how it started, or how it ended.

Yes, they had thrown some banter at each other, as usual. It had been a night like any other, why then did everything become so awkward?

It had happened to him once before... When she had played at feeding him in his bedroom. That moment felt weird, too, but after that, she promised herself never to do that kind of thing again. And it worked. Everything went back to normal.  

Until tonight.

She spit out the paste and rinsed her mouth quickly. The girl couldn't stand the feeling of not being in control. And that was exactly what she felt with Gabriel tonight.

Lack of control.

Marinette washed her face with ice water, wishing that shock would reboot her system and turn off the tangle in her head. As she dried her face with the towel, with those quick little touches, she kept thinking. 

Could it be that stupid admiration she felt when she was younger? Could it be possible? In the past, when she was just a teenager dreaming of things that would never happen, she admired him. Not just him, but that whole glamorous and elegant world of fashion. 

The admiration died along with the dreams, right? But maybe not. Maybe she just fell asleep and now, suddenly, she wakes up... in the form of awkwardness, of weirdness, of a contact that was nothing... but that was everything at the same time.

Would that explain why she felt suffocated in the room? Would that explain why she fled like an idiot out the damn window, without even pretending nothing was wrong?

She could have stayed. She could have made a joke, said something sarcastic, looked at him with superiority, and walked away with her head held high. But no. She jumped out the window as if the room was on fire.

Now she didn't even know how she was going to look at him the next day, what if he made fun of her? What if he made one of his damn jokes about the great night escapist? She wouldn't forgive herself. Or worse, she wouldn't survive the embarrassment.

Marinette looked in the mirror again, her cheeks were red. Perhaps she had pressed the towel too hard against her face. But she ignored it, she couldn't help wondering what exactly had happened.

The young woman returned to her bed. A few hours ago, she was dying of sleep; her eyelids were closing even in full vigil, and now... now it seemed as if her body was refusing to rest. As if every part of her skin was on alert.

She lay back, pulled the blankets over herself in one dry motion, and closed her eyes tightly, too tightly. So hard that she wrinkled her brow unintentionally.

As if pressing her eyes shut would shut down her mind so that if she could just squeeze them shut, she could force herself to sleep. But the girl couldn't and that was precisely what bothered her the most.

She wanted to know why, why couldn't she just let it go? And by not sleeping, her mind was bent on punishing her, the scene began to replay in her mind. 

From the very beginning. From the moment she touched the glass of his window with her knuckles, the instant he looked at her with that damned calm, almost amused expression, as if he wasn't surprised to see her hanging there. 

Ever since she'd walked in without a word. When he was with messy hair and his skin was still warm from lying down, the stupid little jokes they exchanged.

And then that silence, that moment that she didn't know how to interpret, that she still didn't know how to interpret, why didn't she let it go? Nothing happened. Nothing happened. But her body didn't believe it. 

Her chest felt tight. Her throat was dry, and although she didn't want to admit it, there was also a kind of incessant tingling on her skin, just below where he had touched her. Or rather... where he had brushed against her. Because it wasn't a touch. It was just that, a brush.  

Marinette didn't know if it was the closeness, the silence, the night, the wrong room, or her damn heart acting up over a teenage memory. She only knew that he had run away and now she couldn't stop thinking about it.

The young woman gritted her teeth hard and turned sharply to the left side, tangling herself in the sheets as if moving would change anything; why the hell couldn't she just let it go? 

Nothing had been intentional. Neither on her part nor his. That much she knew. Gabriel hadn't touched her on purpose, and she hadn't come close to wanting something either. They weren't that kind of people.  

And despite that, something happened, something invisible, intangible, that she didn't know how to name.

And while she thought about it, while the girl tossed and turned in her bed without finding a comfortable position, without finding rest, without finding air...  

Marinette squeezed her eyes shut again and wished, with an almost absurd intensity, that when she woke up, this would all feel like a bad dream. Like it was a misperception, like something that never happened.

Because if it wasn't... She had no idea how she was going to look Gabriel in the face in the morning.

Notes:

Nooroo is particularly susceptible to emotions, which will lead him to different questions.

Marinette and Gabriel have a moment, although nothing really happened.

What trouble these two are.

Thanks for the support!

Chapter 11: This is not a war, even if it looks like one.

Summary:

Marinette still struggles with the newfound sensation, and although she tries to pretend everything is fine, it all comes crashing down when Gabriel realizes it.

The next day, Marinette is ready to fill in for Leroy. She walks down the hallway, her boots barely sounding on the polished floor. As always, she is punctual. She's never been one to rush in, certainly not regarding her work. Or at least, she isn't anymore. 

The young woman adjusts her uniform belt one last time and lifts her chin slightly. However, as she reaches the place where Leroy should be, she frowns slightly. He's not there.

That's odd.

Leroy is always in place with that military habit that seems impossible to break.

Marinette pauses for a second, as if expecting him to appear from around some corner, but nothing. Her gaze strays to Gabriel's bedroom door, will Leroy be inside? That would be even stranger, he doesn't come in unless he has to, let alone like this, without saying anything.

She then approaches the door cautiously and knocks only once briefly.

But she receives only silence, no one answers.

Marinette, not one to wait for eternal answers, decides to open the door. The door gives way with a slight creak and she peeks out.

The visibility inside the room is intermediate, the light filtering in from the closed curtains is enough to realize that no one is there. No Leroy, no Gabriel.

She sighs. She won't look for them all over the house. She is not a nanny or a detective.

The young woman activates her communicator placed in her hand.

"Excuse me, Leroy," She called in a low and direct tone. "Where are you with Mr. Agreste?".

Leroy doesn't take long to answer, "In his office."

Marinette lowers her hand and consults her wristwatch, even though she already knows the time. Still, she needs to confirm it. No, she's not running late. She's right on time. So what's Gabriel doing in his office so early? He doesn't normally start the day that way. At least, not when she's on duty.

Without wasting any more time, the young woman turns and starts walking down the hallway. She doesn't run, but her steps are quick, almost urgent.

When the girl reaches the office, she doesn't stop to knock. She just pushes open the door and the scene takes her by surprise, though she doesn't show it.

Leroy is standing, as usual, in a secluded corner. Gabriel is sitting in the center of the office, and there is a woman. She is standing in front of Gabriel, her back to Marinette.

The woman is dressed formally, like a high-ranking executive. Hair pulled back neatly, a light suit that contrasts with her skin and the surroundings, straight posture, elegant. Impeccable.

Gabriel turns his neck slightly when he notices someone entering. His expression shows no surprise when he recognizes her.

"I guess your thing is not touching," He mentions in a serene, almost mechanical voice as if he is used to that kind of entrance from Marinette.

She keeps her face impassive. None of it intimidates her. "Excuse me, sir," She replied formally.

Without adding anything else, the girl walks straight to where Leroy is. He steps aside as soon as he sees her approach, unceremoniously handing her his place. He gives barely a nod. His turn is over. Leroy leaves with the same efficiency with which she arrived. Marinette takes her place without missing a beat, hands behind her and eyes straight ahead.

The conversation continues as if nothing had interrupted.

"The report is in your mail. You also need to sign the contract documents in America," Pronounces the woman with a clear voice and professional modulation. "And there are two meetings you won't be able to postpone beyond Monday". 

Gabriel picks up a pen and twirls the tip calmly. "I'll check. See to it that everything keeps running as usual in my absence."

"About the emails," She added, "Do you wish me to screen them all?". 

"Just send me the most important ones." He turned a sheet reluctantly. "The rest can wait". 

The woman nods, takes a step back and that seems to have been it. Gabriel already has some papers in his hand but doesn't devote any more attention to it.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask me, sir." 

"Yes, that's all, Camille. You may go" He replied in a definitive tone, without looking up.

Camille. That's her name. The name fits her, her posture, her manner of speaking, her figure. A woman who seems to have been born to fit in glass offices and tailored suits.

Camille bids her farewell with a slight nod, then she turns in the direction of the door. As she passes, Marinette gives her a neutral look, as if two people working for the same man.

The door closes and then there is silence. That kind of silence is not just an absence of sound but a restrained tension, like a taut thread between two extremes. Marinette remains motionless. Gabriel doesn't move either.

They are completely alone. Again.

Silence soon settles between the two, like an uncomfortable third party that neither invited but both recognize. It settles over the office like a heavy sheet, covering everything with a tension-filled calm. 

Marinette stands in place, her hands folded behind her back, her posture straight and neutral, the one she has adopted by routine, but she can't keep her gaze from sliding to the man.

He leafs through the papers in front of him with a deliberate, almost mechanical slowness. He doesn't seem particularly focused, or annoyed, or nervous. He's simply there, breathing the same air as she is, taking up space, and for some reason, that's enough to get on her nerves. Although, at least this way, she can watch him without feeling like someone is crushing her stomach.

It's Gabriel who breaks the silence as if cutting it with a knife.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" He asks without looking up, his voice calm, as if the question is part of the report in front of him.

Marinette blinks. She hadn't expected him to speak first.

"About what?" she replied, defensively, unable to help herself.

The man looks up then. His eyes land on her with that way of his of looking at people, as if gauging every reaction. For a moment it's hard to tell if he's joking or serious.

"I don't know. Maybe about you barging into my office without knocking," He reprimands with an ambiguous tone; it's a soft edge that she detects instantly.

"It wasn't intentional." She purses her lips. "I didn't know where you were; what are you doing here so early?".

Gabriel leans back slightly against the back of the seat with the pen twirling between his fingers.

"Some people have a habit of starting the day working." 

"I know about that" She replied, unprovoked.

"Well," He glanced at another paper, "What are you doing all the way over there? Sit down." 

"Sir..." She gave him a sidelong glance. 

"I have some things to go over, and you'd help me a lot by sitting down," He interrupts, not bothering to look at her this time. "I don't want to be craning my neck." 

Marinette clenches her jaw. She doesn't want to sit next to him. It's uncomfortable enough having to look at him, and now she wants to close the distance. Unnecessarily.

"Why don't you just check that out quietly?" she blurts out dryly.

She can immediately see the annoyance on Gabriel's face; the frown creases between his brows, his jaw tenses, and his mouth twists impatiently. He says nothing for a second, but then turns to her, his gaze more serious.

"If they'd caught whoever's trying to kill me, I'd be in my office." 

"Too bad,d," She replies wryly.y "Being in the comfort of your home working." 

"Do you know what I do" He watches her with a raised eyebrow.

"I know you design" She replied without looking directly at him.

"I wish it was just that." He let out a short, dry laugh. "It's contracts, advertising, collaborations, stock, and so on. It's as tedious as you are." 

Marinette rolls her eyes. He's doing it on purpose. He enjoys it. She knows it, and yet she falls.

Finally, the young woman moves from her spot. She walks to the center of the office, where those strange seats are, low, almost embedded in the floor as if they were an extension of the architecture, who the hell puts seats like that? She has to climb down as if she's getting into a swimming pool.

Marinette sits down. Not next to Gabriel, but close enough that the silence feels different again.

He keeps flipping through the papers as if nothing.

"Aren't you worried about me seeing those private matters?" She asked, crossing one leg over the other.

"What are you going to do?" he didn't even flinch "Tell my competition that investors are pressuring me?" 

"Why are they pressuring you?" she gave him a sidelong glance.

Gabriel turns one more page, with the same studied slowness "I told you. I do more than just design."

The man continues to review some documents, changing sheets with smooth but steady movements. He seems truly focused on what he reads, and Marinette is slightly relieved by that. 

As his eyes glide over the printed lines, he doesn't turn to look at her, he doesn't try to force conversation. He's focused. And she's fine with that. Not because it bothers her to talk to him, or maybe it does, though she'd never admit that out loud, but because now she can watch him without having to face that internal discomfort he creates when their gazes meet.

But then without warning, he breaks the balance.

"What did you want to be when you were a child?" He asked still staring at the paper, as if the question held no weight.

"Why do you insist on that?" She retorted, turning her face toward him.

"You said I didn't know you well enough" He replied matter-of-factly.

"And of all the things you could have asked... you choose that" She snorted softly, as if resisting a smile. 

Gabriel drops the sheet he was reading on the desk and, at last, looks at her "I have other things on my mind, but surely you won't answer me?" 

"I don't remember" She returned her gaze to the front.

The man did not seem disappointed by the answer. He nodded slowly as if he had already anticipated it.

"I guess I always knew" He commented, not looking at anything in particular "Though I never imagined... any of this" 

"Do you enjoy your childhood dream?" She asked and her tone was genuine, curious.

"I do," He replied, lowering his tone. "Even if it wasn't what my parents wanted."

And there it is again. The subject of his parents. So closed for some things, so open for others. Why does he bring it up so loosely if he insists on keeping it all hidden? Why give those snippets away if he doesn't plan to give it all away?

"What was it they wanted?" She asked as if the thread was too tempting to let go.

Gabriel rested his elbows on the seat backs and interlocked his fingers "My parents had a family business. My whole bloodline went into it. But not me."

"Did they react badly?" She asked watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"Not exactly. But I'm sure they would have wanted me to stay there."

"My grandfather made a big mess," She mentioned without looking at him. "He hasn't spoken to me since."

Gabriel watched her out of the corner of his eye, silent for a few seconds. "You didn't want the family business, and neither did what you were passionate about; how did you end up in this?"

"It just happened."

Gabriel dreaded that answer because he knew that's where it ended. She won't say more. She never does. And not because she has no more to say, but because she doesn't want to. Because Marinette protects her truths as if they were weapons.

Gabriel continues to revise. He has to keep working. He expected to resolve a lot of things this morning at the office, and even though he's stuck at home, his company is back to normal. The police have withdrawn. The media storm has died down. Only the lingering shadow of the threat they have yet to capture remains.

But Marinette helps him stay focused. Not to lose himself altogether. She is like an extension of him, but more complex. Gabriel is tough, serious, and relentless professionally, but Marinette is like that in her own life. She has no problem extending a hand to someone who needs it, but if someone tries to get in where they shouldn't, she attacks that hand without hesitation. He understands that. And that's why he tolerates her. That's why he even seeks her out.

But as he turns to look at her, he notices something he hadn't quite registered before.

The young woman's eyes move. Up, down. From side to side. They roam the floor, the walls, and even the pictures in his office. But never at him. Never directly.

The man remains still, watching her without her noticing, why does she avoid his gaze? Why do her eyes seem to be avoiding him? But Marinette seems normal, or so she appears.

She is lying to him, very comfortably sitting next to him, she is lying to him with every blink she avoids looking at him, with every quiet breath that doesn't match the way her eyes shy away from his. And he is about to ask her. The question is already rising in his throat, ready to come out.

But he stops himself.

He remembers that they are not alone. Not entirely. There are cameras. Surveillance. Security hasn't relaxed, and if he mentions what happened last night, it would all be recorded. Everyone would know.

And he can't afford it.

So he went back to work, avoiding questioning or even continuing to think about how her eyes avoided him as if he had committed the worst crime on earth. 

 

---

 

Gabriel sorted out all the paperwork, finished his work, and sent it to Camille. Fortunately, she didn't ask for more, so he was ready to find out the truth. 

The man got up from his seat with his back a little stiff from so many hours of work and walked to his room. He knew Marinette was following him; he could feel it by the soft echo of her footsteps, by that constant presence that was never announced but was always there. He just had to find a way to talk privately with her, so he improvised.

"Can you help me take some of these papers to my room? I want to go through them later" He randomly picked up a couple of folders.

"Can't you do it alone?" She grumbled, crossing her arms for a second, without much conviction.

But she held up some papers, albeit with clear laziness. He didn't mind. He knew his plan had worked.

When they reached the room, Gabriel went in first, opening the door with one hand and pushing it all the way open with his shoulder. The young woman entered next, holding the papers in her arms. She looked around with some discomfort as if she didn't quite know why she was there. 

"Where do I leave them?" she asked, impatiently.

Gabriel walked over, took the papers from her hands without answering, and tossed them carelessly on the bed. If Marinette had watched him carefully, she would have noticed that he had already finished all his work and that he didn't need to check anything else. But her gaze avoided him as if something inside her couldn't hold her eyes on his. And that confirmed to him what he had already been suspecting.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, measuring his tone.

The girl went back to doing that thing that had become a habit, averting her gaze, keeping her eyes on anything but him. On the curtains, on the wall, on her own hands. But never on him.

"No," she answered quickly, as if the very idea made her uncomfortable, "Is something wrong?"

"Last night... when you came in through the window." He hesitated in a softer voice. "Did I say something wrong?".

"No, sir" She replied, almost automatically.

"Did anything make you uncomfortable?"

"No."

Gabriel took a step toward her, not threatening, but with intent. The distance between them narrowed to a few inches. He could notice the slight change in her breathing, how her body tensed without moving at all.

"Then why won't you look at me, Marinette?"

The young woman watched him fleetingly and then turned her face as if her eyes burned as they met his.

"Is it suddenly a duty to look at you?" She spat.

But Gabriel did not flinch. He did not recoil. On the contrary, he bowed his head slightly, with that dangerous calm he used when someone lied in his presence.

"No, but it didn't cost you before."

Marinette pursed her lips, and for the first time, her gaze brushed his. Just for an instant. Then she pulled away, taking two steps toward the door, as if that brief escape would be enough to regain control. But she didn't. Her silence was cutting, it had an edge.

The man felt it. He recognized it. And it only confirmed what he already sensed.

"Why aren't you able to look at me like before?" he insisted.

She turned slowly. This time she did look at him, but her expression was hard, restrained. As if holding his gaze was a physical effort.

"And how did I look at you before, sir?"

"With sass. With defiance. With that arrogance that made me want to take you out of the place..." He held her gaze, unblinking "That doesn't go away completely, even now."

Marinette folded her arms, her silence now a barrier. But she did not interrupt him.

"And now," He continued, taking another step toward her. "You can't even hold my gaze for more than three seconds. Something's changed, Marinette. And I'm not going to pretend I don't notice it.

She narrowed her eyes. She wasn't running away anymore. She was ready to resist.

"What do you expect me to say?" She asked in a low tone, almost a whisper that sounded fragile but wasn't.

"I expect you to tell the truth" He replied.

"And if I don't want to tell it?"

"Then you're lying to me. And I don't know what bothers me more, that you're lying to me...or that you think I won't notice."

The girl backed away another step. Not out of fear. But because she felt that every word spoken pushed her a little closer to the edge.

"It's none of your business."

"We're in my house, so all things that happen here are my business."

Marinette frowned, her eyes narrowed with a dangerous glint. She took a step toward him.

"Everything must always revolve around you, mustn't it?" She blurted out "Because it doesn't matter here what I think. It only matters that I'm lying to you."

Gabriel studied her with a hardened, unblinking face "Are we going to beat around the bush again, Marinette?"

"Are you really..." She let out a dry, incredulous laugh "Are we going to have this argument because I won't look at you?"

"I'm used to everyone looking at me," He replied without turning away an inch. "But you not doing it baffles me.

"No. You're just used to being the center of attention." She folded her arms tightly. "And it bothers you not to be."

Gabriel let out a short exhale. It wasn't a laugh, but it resembled one. "You think I'm bothered by not rolling around in your mind?"

"Then why else did you bring me here?" She interrupted him, taking another step toward him "To interrogate me?"

"Because I thought I did something wrong to upset you last night."

"That nothing happened!"

The scream overwhelmed her. It was dry, direct, like a whiplash in the closed room. Gabriel took a small step back, not out of fear, but because for an instant, his mind registered that she could be more terrifying than any adversary he'd ever dealt with at work.

There was that fire in her eyes. That tension in her jaw. That fury he wasn't even trying to hide. He had to say something, calm her down...but it wasn't his style to plead.

"I didn't want to fight," He muttered. "I just wanted to understand".

But the young woman didn't give in. On the contrary. Her gaze, once flighty, now drilled him.

"Well, you've got the wrong method" She hissed in a low voice, somewhat biting.

"I just want to know why you're lying to me" He insisted, going back to the beginning.

"Where in my contract does it say to be completely honest with you?"

"I think the trust part" He replied dryly.

Marinette cocked her head to one side, smiling arrogantly. She allowed herself a few seconds to savor that little crack.

"Look how funny, trust? You, who wears secrets like they're underwear...now you come to lecture me."

"We're not talking about me" He clenched his jaw.

"Exactly. Only about you when it suits you" She shot back, without hesitation.

"You're insufferable when you think you're right" He blurted out.

"And you insufferable even when you're not" She shot back with a sharp smile.

It was a duel. A chess game without boards, where every word was a piece thrown with precision.

"Always so ready to pounce," He commented. "As if you'll disarm anyone with a smart remark."

"What about you, you think you're above everyone with that moral judge voice and silent martyr pose?"

Gabriel took a step closer. The distance between them was now minimal. He used his height, not aggressively, but with presence. His shadow fell over her as a reminder that he could assert himself. That he could have the last word.

But Marinette didn't shrink. She didn't lower her gaze. She didn't even blink.

"You don't intimidate me," She blurted out coldly. "If I wanted to, this would be over in a second."

And she was not lying. The girl was saying with her whole body, with the assurance of one who knows what she can do... but chooses not to.

The man felt it as a warning that needed no volume to be understood. For the first time, in that discussion, the two looked at each other, not as employer and subordinate. Not as allies or adversaries. But as two forces on the same plane, measuring territory.

Neither was yielding. Neither was letting their guard down and that was, in itself, a form of intimacy.

"You don't intimidate me." She pinned her eyes locked on his. "If I wanted to, this would be over in a second."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you did," He replied, with a lopsided grin. "Total, it seems like everyone runs when you raise your voice."

"And you seem to think that with that unflappable attitude, you're going to earn anyone's respect." She snorted.

"It's worked pretty well for me, thanks for the concern."

"And what has worked for you? People fearing you instead of respecting you?"

"And what do you prefer, to be ignored or to be put up with out of compromise?"

"At least I don't walk around thinking I'm the hero of every room I walk into."

"At least I don't have to pretend to like what I do, even if, in reality, I hate that job with all my soul," He countered, lower, more pointed.

Marinette opened her mouth to respond... but said nothing. She went blank. For the first time, her lips moved without a word coming out. Gabriel watched her, his chest heaving, not wanting to show it. He, too, searched for something else to say. Something that would close the final blow... but he didn't find it.

They both looked at each other. They just breathed.

Until the man looked down for a moment. Then he raised it decisively, returning to the start.

"Why are you averting your gaze from me, Marinette?"

It was like pouring gasoline on a fire. Marinette raised her voice, now without restraint.

"Because you tire me!"

The echo of the cry seemed to freeze the air. But he didn't move. He didn't blink. He just tilted his head slightly, as if trying to understand her... or as if he simply couldn't believe she would say that.

In an almost involuntary gesture, Gabriel raised his hand. Not to touch her, not with intent... but she took it, out of pure reflex. The young woman closed her hand over his, tight as if the accumulated tension would need an exit channel.

They both looked down at that contact.

"You know, you don't seem like the kind of person who goes on impulses" He pointed out.

"And you don't seem like the kind of guy who needs outside validation" She responded instantly, not letting go of his hand.

"How do your peers put up with you?" He asked, with a half smile.

"I wonder the same thing" She replied with a wry, elegant tone.

"I can't with you" He mused, amused.

"I know," She replied subtly, lifting her chin barely. "But you keep trying".

And there was no annoyance in him. Only satisfaction. Because she wouldn't let him win. Because Marinette, for all her rebelliousness, was still a wall he loved to crash against. And for an instant, he forgot why they were arguing. The man forgot his annoyance. He just stared at her...smiling.

"Why are you smiling?" She looked at him puzzled.

But he didn't answer. Because she would never understand. That feeling of deep pleasure that caused him she would not break before him.

The girl, uncomfortable, let go of his hand. Gabriel pulled himself together slowly but without ceasing to watch her.

Arguing with her was exhausting... but also addictive, yet nothing had been resolved. He still didn't have the answer.

"Marinette," He called to her in a quieter voice, "I don't want to argue with you. I want to know why your eyes avoid me."

Marinette exhaled, long. She was on the verge of losing her patience.

"Because your closeness is disturbing!" She exclaimed.

"Unsettling how?" He raised an eyebrow, surprised by the directness.

"I've never had such closeness with another client before," She blurted out, raising her arms as if trying to shield herself from them.

The man took a small step back. Not out of guilt, but to take the pressure off.

"You shouldn't feel that way" He replied as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"And you think that's normal? Ethical? Me here, in your room, yelling at us like it's a dysfunctional couple's scene?"

"And now you're worried about ethics?" He blinked slowly.

"I'm trying to be professional!"

"Well, you're doing terrible." He snorted a soft laugh. "I don't want you to be professional," He mentioned, with a tone that sounded more like confession than provocation. "I want you to keep being you."

And with that, the room became smaller, more closed and intimate, there was silence, only their breaths and her eyes, this time, didn't flee. But they didn't open all the way either. They were there, facing him... holding back.

The sound of the communicator vibrated insistently. Marinette didn't even flinch at first. Despite everything, she didn't want to break the stare, not yet.

But her communicator was so insistent that she picked it up and answered.

"Marinette?" It was Renaud's voice, his tone always attentive "Is everything all right? You've been inside for a long time."

"Yes." She took a deep breath, barely a second. "It's just that... I threw Monsieur's papers away and was trying to re-organize them" She looked fleetingly at the bed cluttered with papers she hadn't even tried to sort.

"But I'm done."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. He knew perfectly well that that last word was not only addressed to his colleague.

"Understood," Renaud replied. "Don't leave your position."

"Understood."

The line went dead.

"We're not finished" He sentenced.

The girl arched an eyebrow, defiantly, taking a step toward the door.

"Do you have anything else to say?" She challenged.

"Yes." His voice was low, firm. "That I don't care how things should be, or how we're supposed to treat each other. I don't want you to change. I don't want you to be another version of yourself. I want you to be you."

"So what, we're just going to keep arguing forever?" She narrowed her eyes, confused.

The man lifted his shoulders with a barely perceptible smile as if he wasn't denying it...but he wasn't affirming it either.

"You're telling me you prefer this...to formality" She summarized, wearily.

He didn't respond with words, but his eyes said it all, as she rolled her own.

"I just have this little moral dilemma, already" She blurted out.

"And it's silly," He replied with complete assurance. "You shouldn't focus on that".

"You're my employer, Gabriel." She frowned. "And I'm your bodyguard, remember that?"

"And that shouldn't change anything."

"Sure." She took a step toward the door. "Easy for you to say. You're the one in charge. But if it were the other way around..."

The girl didn't finish the sentence. She let it hang in the air, like a threat, like a truth he refused to see. She went to the door, determined.

But when her hand touched the doorknob, the man's hand fell right on top of it, blocking her. Not forcefully, but with intent. Marinette stood still. She didn't look at him; she only saw his hand stopping hers.

The young woman could feel him behind her, too close.

"Formality is not up for discussion" He stated in a low voice, glued to her ear If you don't want to look at me, that's fine. If you want to hit me, that's fine too. But the other thing... it's not up for debate."

"And what's the other thing?" She asked, without turning around.

"This. Pretending you're someone else. Pretending you're not you."

"If you don't let me out, Gabriel," She turned her face slightly, "I'm going to hit something other than your hand."

The man swallowed saliva. His crotch throbbed as if he sensed danger as if he knew with certainty what might come. But he didn't move. Nor did he back away.

"I know" He whispered.

And he meant it. He knew she could do it. That she had strength, technique...and rage enough. But he also knew that if he didn't do this now, she would go back to that comfortable distance, to that invisible wall that hurt more than a punch.

"Do it" He added.

Marinette clenched her jaw. She thought about doing it and for a second, Gabriel felt terror. Not because of the pain. But for what it would mean if she just walked away.

But she didn't move, not yet, and of course, the young woman was about to; it was so easy.

The scenario was perfect, he provoked her with that damned security, there was no one watching, the room closed, the complicit silence of the walls... She only had to make a move and she would give him a blow Gabriel would never forget in his life. One of those that would be felt to the bone. One that would make it clear that he was not to cross certain lines.

Only she didn't. Marinette took a deep, slow, restrained breath.

"I don't want to ruin my record for someone like you."

The man, instead of being relieved, smiled half-sideways with great arrogance, yes. But also with something else. Something no one else would know how to see, but the girl could sense. A spark of pride.

"You're right," He replied. "If you're going to break your impeccable record, let it at least be for someone worthwhile."

She narrowed her eyes. The idiot had guts, there was no denying that. Not one step back. Not with his threat hanging in the air.

She looked back at the door and exhaled.

"I've already lost," She admitted without looking at him. "Formality can go fuck itself."

It wasn't a declaration. It was a surrender. A mute acceptance that he'd taken her right to the edge. And that she...simply didn't have the energy to keep pretending she hadn't crossed the line.

Gabriel understood. He felt that strange mixture of satisfaction and bewilderment, had he pushed her so far as to make her give in? Had he pushed everything to near violence to get a response?

Unfortunately, the man didn't have much time to think.

"Let me out," She ordered in the steadiest voice she could. "Or I'll attract attention." 

The girl didn't mean it as a threat. It was a logical, practical, cold warning.

Gabriel slid his hand through the door, slowly removing it. He gave way to her, and Marinette opened the door. She took a step out. And before she left completely, she turned her face toward him. She looked at him. Just for a few seconds. But it was enough.

He didn't know if that look was a farewell, an apology, or a sigh of defeat. Maybe all at the same time and then, she was gone.

The door closed softly behind her. Nothing dramatic or violent.

Marinette, already on the other side, regained her posture.

She walked with apparent normality towards her guarding position, but as soon as she stopped, far from any suspicion, she brought her hands to her cheeks and pressed gently against the hot skin, they burned. As if she had a fever.

Quickly, the young woman lowered her hands. She pretended nothing happened. She tried to breathe calmly. She made a routine face, it must have been the heat of the moment.

Although she knew perfectly well it wasn't.

 

---

 

Gabriel was still there, standing in front of the closed door. The dull echo of the slamming door still seemed to echo in the room. And he... he didn't understand anything.

The man ran a hand through his hair as if that might clear the whirlwind in his head. He took a couple of steps back, tripped over one of the papers he'd thrown on the bed, and ended up sitting on them, unconcerned about his condition.

Shitty papers. They didn't matter. Nothing mattered as much as this mental tangle Marinette had just left him as an inheritance.

Where the hell had that sudden formality come from? Professionalism? She, the same Marinette who had slipped in through his window, who had looked at him with mockery, with impudence, with that defiant air that drove him crazy... Now she was coming to talk to him about ethics? To draw boundaries as if he were one of those four boring guys he lived with every day?

Does she want to kill me?

He let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling. It was frustrating and confusing. One day he thought he had taken a step toward her, thought he understood her a little more. But the next day, they'd go back fifty. And it was all back to zero. Or worse.

What had changed? Was it last night? Had he said something he shouldn't have? Had someone said something to him? Had Renaud warned him he was getting too close?

The man clenched his jaw, uncomfortable. If it were any other guard, he wouldn't care. But Marinette wasn't just anyone. And that complicated everything.

Gabriel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees among the crumpled documents. His gaze was lost among the folds of paper, but his mind was elsewhere. Bouncing between thoughts like projectiles, her elusive gaze, her screams, her threat, her hand in his.

He brought a hand to his forehead wearily; why the fuck does he care so much about her looking at him? It was a thought that emerged unbidden, as direct as it was painful and brutally honest.

But he felt that strange discomfort, that hollowness, that fucking thorn he didn't know how to get off his chest. It wasn't the argument. It wasn't the threat. It was that moment when the young woman decided not to look at him anymore. That was the blow.

Was it a victory... or a defeat? Because if he thought about it, she didn't hit him, she didn't scream more than necessary, and in the end... she looked at him. Just a little. Like someone who gives up the last thing she has left, and that made him win? Or lose even more?

Gabriel got up from the bed abruptly. He paced the room like a caged beast, his gaze roaming every corner as if he could find answers in the walls.

He wanted to get out. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to look her in the eye and tell her that this line she was trying to draw was stupid. But he couldn't do that with the cameras rolling. Not with the rest of the house present. And Marinette wouldn't go back into his room, not after what had just happened.

So the man was trapped in his room and in his head. The worst... trapped in that stupid feeling of loss.

The snowball kept growing, and all he had was the echo of his own voice inside his head, repeating the same thing: why the hell does he care so much if she stops looking at him?

The man doesn't move. His arms are heavy, his thoughts are heavy. His eyes are glued to the carpet, and his hands are clasped as if he needs to keep them still so he doesn't do something stupid.

Formality... he repeats mentally, with a hint of irony, Is that what she wants now? After everything they've been through, every word, every glance, every gesture loaded with "I won't say, but you know"? She wants to draw a line. Set boundaries. Become another damn retaining wall.

And he... What does he want? For me to look at him? Just that? No, not just that. He wants that defiant look, that way Marinette seemed always ready to tear him down, to mock the way he spoke, the way he sat, the way he existed. He misses that edge. Because now...now there is emptiness.

He brings a hand to his hair and ruffles it in frustration; he returns to his bed and drops back, lying down in the middle of the mattress. The room seems larger than normal, as if the silence itself is mocking him, why the hell does he care so much about this?

Because it hurt. That's the truth he doesn't want to accept. That she looked away, that she lied head-on. Not because of the lie, but because of what it represents. The distance. The retreat. The silent betrayal of something that was growing between the two of them without either of them naming it.

And the worst part is that he doesn't know what to do about it, what is he supposed to do, go after her? No. He can't. He shouldn't. He's already pushed things too far. He doesn't want to be that guy. The one who pushes, the one who insists, the one who won't accept enough.

Gabriel puts an arm over his eyes, wanting to erase the world. But the world doesn't erase, and Marinette is still there, on the other side of the door, probably pretending nothing happened. Probably... Thinking about how to get him away from her presence.

And he... he just wants to understand, Was it a victory? A defeat? What was that? And why, in the end, does it matter so much to him?

The silence continues. But inside him, the battle is raging.

The arm is still over his eyes. His breathing has slowed, but that doesn't mean calm. In reality, he's trying not to lose control. What bothers him most about all this isn't the argument itself, or even the lie...it's not knowing what caused the change. That part she can't control.

Marinette was never predictable, but at least she had logic in her chaotic way. He could anticipate a taunt, a provocation, even a criticism disguised as flattery. But this...this is different. It's as if she had decided, overnight, to stop being Marinette with him.

And that idea hits him.

What did she do wrong? Was it something from last night? Was it what she didn't say? What he said too much? Is she upset about what she felt? About what he didn't want to feel?

The man turned his face to the side. There's a pile of crumpled leaves under his shoulder. He doesn't push them away. He is tired of all this and, at the same time, more awake than ever. He has that knot in his chest, the one that appears when something doesn't close, when there is no possible answer, only echoing questions.

Since when did he care so much about this?

And that's where everything becomes uncomfortable. Because he knows the answer. He's known it for a long time. He just didn't want to admit it. Marinette has put him up against an invisible wall. And not by force or screaming. She did it by stopping looking at him. By denying him that which seemed insignificant and is now revealed as vital.

Can he talk to her again? Seek her out? No. Not now. Not after all. She drew the line, though then she trampled on it. It was chaos, foul play. But he was in on it too. He pushed her over the edge because he needed a reaction. And he got it.

And now... What's next?

Gabriel sat down again, sank his elbows into his knees, and held his head with both hands. His hair falls through his fingers, messy, sweaty, sticky. He looks like the portrait of someone who has just lost something important but doesn't yet understand what.

He closes his eyes. He is not going to open that door. He's not going out to look for her as if he had no pride. But if she were to walk in if she were to just walk in again?

No. That's not going to happen.

And that hurts more than I was prepared to feel.

 

---

 

Marinette keeps her back straight, too straight. Almost forced. Hands in front of her, fingers interlocked tightly, though with no visible tension. Her face is neutral. Not a wrinkle on her forehead, not a nervous look. Just her gaze fixed, on an empty spot in the hallway in front of her.

But inside, the disaster is still alive.

Her chest still rises and falls with more speed than usual. And her skin, the one that still burns slightly on her cheeks, still betrays her, even if she tries to ignore it.

What was that? Not the argument. She can argue. She can shout, provoke, manipulate language as a weapon, and defend herself with sharp ironies. She's done it before. She'll do it again. But that... that moment... The way he didn't back away, knowing he could get hurt.

The way she didn't back away either, even knowing what she could provoke if she crossed the line.

The girl watched his hand, the one that held hers by an impulse stronger than her judgment. He flexed it slowly. As if she could still feel the contact.

Ridiculous. She didn't give in. She just accepted the obvious, that stupid line had long since been broken. Maybe from the first moment, she crossed a word with him. But that doesn't mean she's going to give in. She's not going to let Gabriel beat her, not in this strange game that she doesn't even know if it has rules.

Still... Why was it so hard for her to breathe normally? Why the hell did she care so much that he was upset? That was the weak point. Not that he got angry, not that he verbally pushed her, but that he actually believed she was excluding him, why does it hurt that he believed it? That wasn't in the plan.

Marinette always thought Gabriel was like everyone else, complicated in his own way, but easy to keep in line. All it took was a dose of sarcasm, calculated distance, and the occasional well-placed smile.

But he's not like that. He wants to be looked at and apparently, he hates it when she doesn't. That was his biggest weapon...and also his biggest mistake.

Now, she's here. Standing in front of a white wall, feigning vigilance as her thoughts tangle like burnt wires. Wanting to stand her ground, but with the nagging feeling that she gave in more than she planned.

It wasn't a defeat. But not a victory either.

It was a silent truce. One of those that you don't sign, but you feel it.

It's not easy to be still when everything inside you burns. Marinette remains at her post, her gaze still fixed on the void, but she no longer sees it. He is not there. She's in the next room, caught up in that confrontation, in that half-hearted conversation, in that moment just before crossing the line.

The young woman ran her tongue across her lips, unaware, they were dry. The discomfort is not in the body. It's deeper inside.

Why didn't she pull back? She could have. She could have walked away, closed the door, not looked back. But she didn't. She looked at him. She kept looking at him. Despite everything.

Marinette, who had made it through clients more obnoxious, more invasive, and more unstable than Gabriel, now had a problem with someone who just wanted... to be looked at. Sounds stupid. But isn't that what makes everything more dangerous?

Because Gabriel is not a game. Not like others, with him, the moves weren't simple. Every word was a provocation. Every step is a trap. And every time she got closer, a little more of herself was caught in his gravitational field.

Her worst mistake was thinking she could handle it and she knows it. Not just because of what just happened... she knows it because right now she wants to go back to that room.

Not to argue, though. Not to yell. Just to end the damn conversation. Or to continue it forever. She's not sure which is the worst option.

Marinette folds her arms, uncomfortable. The hallway seems to have gotten colder. Or maybe it's just that the heat has already dissipated and now only the tension remains, heavy as a stone in the stomach.

Don't think about it. Don't go back. Those are his rules. The ones he repeats to himself like a mantra, hoping they will take effect. But they don't. Her mind has already betrayed her.

The worst thing is not that she wants to go back. The worst thing is that she doesn't know what she would say if she did. 

Time does not move forward in the same way when one is trapped in one's own mind.

The girl is still there, standing, feigning vigilance while everything inside her screams for her to move. Each second seems to weigh more than the last. In the distance, some sound of the security system makes its usual rounds, but for her everything has become static. Nothing changes outside, everything changes inside.

What now? That wasn't part of the job. It wasn't part of it either.

She hadn't trained for years for an arrogant guy to shake her off balance with a single sentence. Not with a look. Nor with that ridiculous gesture of blocking the door as if he could hold her back. As if he could hold something else. 

But did it hold him back? Maybe. Maybe not, and maybe that's what bothers him the most. Not knowing.

The young woman crossed her arms tighter, needlessly, just to tense her body and remind herself that she was still in control. That she still has command of herself.

He didn't win. 

But the question arises in her mind before she can avoid it, Did I? No. Neither.

Because if he had won she wouldn't be like this. She wouldn't be thinking about going back, about saying something else, about really closing that conversation. But she doesn't feel defeated either. Not in front of him.

It's just that she can't leave him there. She doesn't want to leave him there. But she can't do anything else. If Marinette goes back to that room it would be like giving up, but not going back is also like giving up.

One part of herself demands action, another commands her to resist. Not to lose. Not to give in. Not to look at the door. But the temptation is there, strong and silent. As is he, on the other side.

What irony. Two people trapped in different rooms, in identical mental wars, with no idea how close they are...or how far they are willing to go.

Marinette exhales, slow, long, and inconclusive, not one step further, not one step back.

The battle is over... but not because either has won. Only because both have stopped.

At least for now.

Notes:

Sorry for the delay; sometimes it's hard to decide how far a chapter ends; I don't want to rush things, and I try to make it as natural as possible.

Watching a bit of the series, I noticed that Gabriel and Marinette have similar characters, I think that's what stands out the most in this chapter.

But thanks for being here.

Chapter 12: How far would they have gone... if they hadn't stopped?

Summary:

The question that echoes in their minds is, How far would they have gone... if they hadn't stopped?

Another turn among the blankets.

Marinette rolled over, this time with a louder sigh. No position could save her, no fold of fabric could comfort her, nothing could silence that damn hamster running around in her head.

Because that's what her mind feels like, a little wheel that never stops, and the hamster isn't just running; it seems to be training for a marathon.

"Stop, you idiot... just stop for a second and let me sleep."

But no, there was no respite, not even with her eyes closed, not even with deep breaths. Nothing. 

And all because of him, that idiot.

Damn Gabriel and his words, and his gaze, and his refusal to back down even an inch when she was a second away from smashing his face in. If it weren't for him... If he hadn't started all this with his closeness, intensity, and stupidity, she would be sleeping like any normal person.

But no. She's there, trapped, fighting her own insomnia, and although part of her wants to take it all out on him, to tell him it's his fault, she knows that's not entirely true.

No. It all started when she opened that damn window.

That's when everything changed, and now there's no turning back.

That absurd gesture, an innocent provocation, a midnight joke, ended up growing like an avalanche; a snowflake that took away her peace of mind, her routine, her damn sleep.

Now she wants peace, silence, a night without surprises. But the universe decided otherwise, so the young woman gave up, she no longer tried to sleep, she no longer pretended. And above all, she doesn't fool herself.

Marinette has to fix this, or at least try. If not now, she'll never sleep.

The girl got up abruptly, put on her shoes, and that was it. She's in her pajamas, but who cares? No one else will see her.

Marinette slipped out quietly, like a night thief. It worked last time; no one discovered her, not even Renaud. Maybe no one will see her this time either.

She slipped between the shadows, she knows the blind spots of the cameras, the planks that must not be stepped on. As if she had trained for it, as if her body knew the way to the garden, to the darkness, and more precisely to the bottom of that window.

And yes, she's crazy. Completely, but she's there. And she already knows where to climb, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Marinette reached the top, holding on as best she could. The cool night air touched the back of her neck.

And then the young woman realized something she hadn't thought of before. What if he's asleep? What if he doesn't hear her? What if he leaves her hanging there like a stupid bat?

Marinette cursed inwardly. She brought two fingers to the window and tapped gently on the glass; not too hard, just enough so that if the man was awake, he would hear her. 

Fortunately, he was.

The curtain moved slightly and he appeared. Gabriel opened the window with irritating slowness. His eyes were half-closed from sleep, or disbelief, or simple mockery.

"I guess you hate doors," he said without judgment and in that calm tone that irritated her so much. 

Gabriel tilted his head slightly, with that air of irony so characteristic of him, as he watched her there, hanging from the window frame as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Marinette didn't even glance at him. She pushed herself up and finished entering, without saying a word.

The lamp on the table cast distorted shadows, but as soon as she touched the floor, he turned on the ceiling light with a sharp click. He wanted to see her clearly. The man needed to understand what the hell she was doing there at that hour.

Gabriel moved toward his unmade bed, sat on the edge, barefoot, his back slightly hunched, as if he had been interrupted in the middle of an important thought. His eyes watched her with genuine confusion.

Marinette didn't approach him. She stayed at a safe distance, as if the room were a minefield and she were carefully choosing where to place her feet. The young woman stood directly in front of the window, her jacket loosely buttoned and her wrinkled pajamas peeking out from underneath.

"Did I wake you up?" she asked, her tone more concerned than she wanted to admit.

"Lucky for you, no. Were you going to stay there all night?" He raised an eyebrow. 

Marinette let out a sharp exhale and rolled her eyes, dispelling any hint of concern. "I can get down just fine."

"Did they forbid you from using the door, or are you just doing this to annoy me?" 

"I have nothing to do here, so I couldn't have come without raising questions." 

"I'm sorry to question you, but... what are you doing here, Marinette?" 

"You're an idiot." She crossed her arms. Her tired, determined eyes locked onto his.

"Couldn't you wait until tomorrow to tell me? How impatient." He barely raised his eyebrows, as if surprised that she had come just to tell him that. 

Marinette clenched her jaw. She couldn't raise her voice, not there, not with someone who could hear from the hallway. But that wasn't going to stop her. 

"You know what I hate more than your stupid comments?" She began in a low voice. "You're doing that to me. You're acting like you're always in control, like playing with others is part of your routine. I'm not one of those people you can read like an open book. And I'm not going to stay quiet while you decide when we're formal, when we're not, when you can cross a line you don't even recognize because you think you draw them all." 

The man said nothing, and she took a step forward. 

"You're not the one to decide how things should be. Not with you. Not with me." Her voice was still restrained, but now it was dry.

Marinette didn't know if talking calmed her down or made her even more upset. But seeing Gabriel's expression, that serene face, without a hint of regret, made her feel that nothing she said had affected him.

"Are you done?" That calm tone felt like a slap without contact. "Because if you're going to burst into my room in the middle of the night just to vent, at least do it completely. Don't hold anything back, it would be a shame." He didn't raise his voice, he didn't need to. Each word came out like a sentence.

Gabriel settled a little more comfortably on the bed, as if exhaustion forced him to relax, but his gaze was anything but tired.

"You're right, Marinette. I'm not the one to decide how things should be. But I do it because if I don't set the boundaries, you won't. Because you come in, you get close, you back off, and then you climb out the window like nothing happened. And I'm the idiot for reacting." He raised an eyebrow cynically.

"I'm sorry if you don't like me seeing beyond your damn walls, but sometimes you make what you're hiding so obvious that it's hard to ignore." The man's voice was calm. But there was tension there. Like a fire hidden under the skin.

They were both standing in a no-man's-land, with no possible victory, and they both knew it.

Marinette remained standing, not moving an inch; the light from the ceiling bathed the room in an impersonal coldness that contrasted with the heat that was beginning to rise up her neck. Gabriel was still sitting on the bed, with that carefree pose that, rather than calming her, set her on fire. 

The young woman took a step forward, just one. The shadow of her figure was cast over him.

"Even though you're technically my temporary boss, that doesn't give you the right to do whatever you want with me." Her tone tried to be controlled, like someone so close to losing control that she clings to every word so as not to scream. "You can give orders, but what happens between us is not within your jurisdiction. It's not in your hands, Gabriel." 

Gabriel watched her closely. He almost seemed amused. But she didn't give him time to reply.

"You can't demand explanations from me, or demand closeness, or complain if one day I don't talk to you. Do you want to know why? Because you're not the one. Because if I decide not to talk to you, if I want to draw a line and stick to it, you have no right to cross it. Or to manipulate it. Or to turn it into another one of your mind games." 

"You can have all that ego, that facade of confidence, that air of superiority with whoever you want. But not with me. You're not going to have that victory. You're not going to beat me." She lowered her tone, but it became harsher.

Marinette fell silent. Not because she had said everything, but because that last line was a direct shot and she didn't want to give him any more.

Gabriel slowly lowered his gaze, not as a gesture of submission, but as if he were carefully contemplating a chessboard. Then he looked up, flashing his subtle, arrogant, crooked smile.

"Are you going to finish spitting on me now, or are you planning to come back tomorrow for the second part?" He muttered with that false, poisonous courtesy he wielded so masterfully.

The man leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers intertwined. The light bathed him from above, leaving his face partially in shadow. He looked more like a threat than a human figure.

"I appreciate you reminding me that I'm not the one to tell you what to do. But maybe you forgot something important." His voice grew even lower. "You came here. Through that window. At this hour. You decided to cross that line you defend so much. And now you're in my room, yelling at me with your eyes, pretending it doesn't affect you. But if this weren't important, you'd be sleeping." 

Gabriel stood up gently. But his height meant that for a moment, Marinette had to raise her head slightly to keep eye contact with him. The light cast his shadow behind him, his face still half-lit.

He took a single step closer. Just one. Enough to break the space between them. He didn't touch her, nor did he raise his voice. But the proximity spoke for him.

"And I'm going to keep saying whatever I want. Because I've been doing it since day one. Because that's who I am. And you knew that. Because even if you say no, this" He pointed to the space between them with a small movement of his chin. "Matters to you. More than you'd like." 

Gabriel took a step back, giving himself some space. But the last sentence felt like a sentence.

"And because at the end of the day, the world does revolve around me. Even if you still don't accept it." 

The silence that followed was different. It wasn't calm, but rather the tension before the storm. They both knew that this argument wasn't the end of the matter. Just a pause. 

Marinette watched him for several seconds. Not a single muscle in her face moved. Her expression was apparently neutral, but there was something else in her gaze... A spark of response that had not yet ignited. 

"You know, Gabriel? I love how you make everything work in your favor. You have this unique ability to make everything the other person's fault... or your own merit." She said without changing her posture. 

The young woman took a step back, not to run away, but to get a better look at him. The light cast her silhouette on the floor, as if duplicating her. She tilted her head slightly, as if studying him.

"Yes, I climbed in through the window. At night. In my pajamas. Do you know why I did it, Gabriel?" She looked at him directly with a clarity she didn't quite allow herself... but now she did. "Because you don't understand boundaries. And I wanted to set one." She didn't raise her voice. But every word was sharp.

Silence settled again, but it was different than before.

Gabriel didn't respond immediately. For the first time that night, he seemed to need a few seconds. It wasn't long. But it was enough to notice that he didn't have an automatic reply ready. 

The man pursed his lips slightly, staring at an empty spot in the room, then turned his gaze back to Marinette.

"Not bad." His tone was low, soft... almost thoughtful, but no less arrogant. "Not bad, really. Good speech. Well put together. Well delivered. I liked the ending." 

The shadow of a smile crossed his face. He rose with all the calmness in the world, taking a couple of steps to the side, as if examining a painting from another angle, looking at her defiantly and with something else that even he couldn't quite place yet.

"But the problem with your limit, Marinette, is that you drew it in my room, and that's already a miscalculation." His gaze shone with restrained cunning. "Because no matter how strong you think you are... you're still here, and that speaks louder than your words." 

Gabriel stopped, now halfway between her and the bed. His shadow lengthened behind him, but the light fell directly on his face.

"And tell me something... if it doesn't affect you, if it doesn't matter... Why did you rehearse that speech? Why did you come here?"

The man took a step back. Not as if he were giving up, but as if he had decided to observe from another angle.

"I'm not interested in winning this fight, Marinette." Although his tone said otherwise, "I'm interested in seeing how much more you're willing to do to not lose it." 

A kind of barely perceptible electricity hung between them, not in the words. Not in the gestures, but in what they didn't say.

Marinette let out a short, dry laugh. Not overly mocking, but with that acidic tinge she used when something seemed too ridiculous to take seriously.

"How far am I willing to go to avoid losing?" She repeated ironically, slightly imitating his tone. "Please, Gabriel... you started all this." His eyebrows rose slightly. The gesture of someone who has just remembered something that proves him right.

"All because I wasn't looking at you." She raised a hand as if pointing out an obvious truth. "You made a scene because I wasn't paying attention to you. It wasn't personal, it wasn't a plan to ruin your day... But you turned it into a damn manifesto, and now look at us." 

The young woman turned in place, showing them both a room, the early morning, and a conversation that had already crossed all professional boundaries.

"All because I ignored you." 

Gabriel moved slowly. As if gathering momentum with his breath.

"It wasn't that." His voice was now lower, almost reflective. "It was that you lied to me." 

Marinette frowned, confused for a moment. He looked up at her, his eyes shining with something that looked like annoyance... but it wasn't just that.

"You started this by lying to me." He spat out clearly, letting the phrase float in the air. "And I hate that. I detest lies. And you..." He leaned forward slightly, as if weighing each word. "You lie to me all the time." He counted on his fingers, without losing control. "When you pretend you don't know about design. When you make up for what you do outside of work. When you talk about your passion as if you don't have it. And I always let you get away with every single one. Every. Damn. Time." 

The man rose again, slowly, as if his body needed no effort to reclaim the space.

"But lying about looking at me..." He paused for a moment, lowering his gaze slightly. "I don't understand that." 

The room fell silent for a moment. She didn't respond immediately. She didn't know whether to laugh or push him out the window.

"Can't I have secrets now?" she asked, with some disbelief, though more restrained. "I work for you, Gabriel. That doesn't mean I don't have a life. I don't have to tell you everything."

"Oh, sure," he bellowed with a low, sardonic laugh. "The girl of mystery. Every time I push that issue, you do a perfect turn. You change direction. As if your life depended on dodging answers." He looked at her intently. Not like someone who demands, but like someone who observes from a dangerous height.

"Why do you do it? Why do you turn away?" 

Marinette pressed her lips together. Her expression was no longer defensive. It was... measured. As if there was something she still didn't allow herself to say.

"Because looking at you is weird," she replied without looking at him, as if the words came out before they were fully thought out. "And I can't explain it. I don't even understand it myself." 

Gabriel took a step. Close enough to notice. A shadow crossed his face. It wasn't a threat. It was total attention. 

"Weird how?" he asked, but the tone had a barely perceptible irony, as if he didn't expect a clear answer.

"I don't know," she repeated, with frustrated sincerity. "It just... happens." 

That left him silent for another second. Just long enough for the girl to look at him again. Just long enough for him to give her a half-smile.

"And I thought we were starting to be friends," he said mockingly, with exaggerated sadness in his tone.

Marinette let out a genuine laugh now, very sarcastic, cruel, and so sincere that it hurt.

"You and me? Friends? No." She moved closer. "We work together. Nothing more, and besides..." She leaned in a little, just a little. Just enough so that her voice was only for him. "I don't want to be your friend." 

Gabriel didn't seem offended or hurt. In fact, he nodded once, very slowly.

"Thank goodness." His smile was small, but not weak. "I was lying when I said that." 

Neither of them was laughing anymore, and yet the tension had changed form; it was still there. But now it floated between them like something nameless.

Neither of them touched the other. There were no lingering glances, and without fully realizing it, they were getting closer, not in steps.

In something else, something that neither of them could quite recognize and that, for that very reason, grew without being stopped.

"I didn't come here to be your friend," she said, fixing her eyes on him as if to make it clear that she hadn't come to play. "I came because I don't want to have these stupid arguments with you every time you don't like something." Her tone was sharp, though controlled. Like a knife that hasn't been used yet, but is very close.

"So now I'm a spoiled brat?" He smiled.

"You said it, not me," she replied with a raised eyebrow. "But it suits you. You always get your way, don't you? It's easy to act like a king when everything is handed to you on a silver platter. All you need to do is stomp your feet when you don't like something." 

That made him laugh. A low, honest laugh, something in his eyes lit up. A certain spark of amusement. As if she had just lit a fuse he hadn't expected.

"Don't assume things you don't know about me," he said, still with that dangerous smile, though his tone remained low and controlled.

"You do it too," she pointed out quickly, as if she had no intention of letting go.

"I don't assume anything." He shook his head very slowly, almost dismissively. "Everything I say about you is true. And you know it. That's why it hurts. That's why you react like this." He took another step. Not too close. But close enough for the distance to be felt. "But about me... You know absolutely nothing." 

That's when something broke in her restraint. The tension building up in her chest shot out.

"Because you won't let me know!" She exclaimed in a tone that barely rose. 

Gabriel was about to answer, the response already on his lips, ready to come out, but then there was a knock at the door. 

"Sir?" Leroy's voice came from the other side of the door. "Everything okay? I heard voices." 

The two of them froze completely. It was as if the entire room had frozen. Marinette's eyes widened slightly, her mouth half open, as if she were stuck in mid-word.

The man reacted first, quickly but without appearing upset. He grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand, held it to his ear, and headed for the door.

He opened it just enough so that his face could be seen from the hallway and pretended to be in the middle of a conversation.

"Everything's fine," he said casually. "Sorry about the noise, I'm in the middle of a call." 

Leroy seemed to accept the excuse. "Don't worry, sir, and I apologize." 

Gabriel closed the door and pretended to continue talking for a few seconds. Then he slowly lowered the phone and his eyes returned to Marinette, and this time, something different floated between them.

"I wonder how much trouble you'd be in if they found out you were here," he murmured, with that crooked smile that seemed designed to provoke.

"Are you going to report me or something?" she said sarcastically. "Go ahead if you want, but don't blackmail me. That won't work on me."

He frowned. Not out of anger, but as if he had truly offended her.

"Blackmail you?" he repeated, almost scandalized. "Marinette, please... I love seeing you hanging from my window." He crossed his arms. "And no, I wouldn't. I just saved you." 

"You saved yourself," she replied harshly.

"You raised your voice," he pointed out, taking a step closer. "And as always, you end up being ungrateful. I always have to be the bad guy. The unbearable idiot." 

"No," she shook her head slowly, her eyes fixed on his. "You just want to look like the saint. The right one. But underneath it all, Gabriel..." She took a step forward. Now they were close. "You're just another unbearable idiot." 

Gabriel didn't move, and this time he didn't respond with mockery; he just stared at her. His height towering over her felt like a shadow that wasn't threatening... but it was oppressive. 

"You're unbearable," he muttered, as if he were discovering it at that moment. "You're like a riddle that doesn't make sense. Irritating. Hard. Uncomfortable to look at. And there's no way to understand you." 

Marinette kept her face up, her lips pressed together, her gaze unwavering.

"I don't need you to understand me," she said dryly. "I don't want you to understand me. That's not why we're here." 

He watched her for a long second. There was no smile now. Only curiosity.

"That's the interesting part," he murmured, as if answering something in his head. "You think you can build walls and pretend that no one can see inside you. But the cracks are visible from afar."

"And what exactly do you see?" She replied sarcastically, "A rebellious girl who doesn't answer to you? Does that bother you?" 

"I see a woman who hides behind her sarcasm because she thinks it makes her strong," he replied without hesitation. "And yes, it bothers me, because you have no idea how much noise you make every time you pretend you don't care about anything, and the worst part is that you believe that role."

The young woman narrowed her eyes. Her face was flushed. Her chest rose and fell with each word.

"And you think you know everything, you think you have the truth in your mouth just because you speak more softly than others. But you know nothing, you just judge, from your comfortable bed and your elegant name, and then you expect everyone to conform to your way of seeing the world." 

"And what do you do?" He replied, moving a little closer. His voice was still soft. But now, the tone was harsh. "You put yourself above everything because you know your character can push anyone around. You shrink when someone gets too close to you. You shut down every time someone crosses an invisible line."

That made her frown. Not out of annoyance... but out of something much harder to admit. 

The words filled almost the same space, and the heat they both gave off, the kind that pride couldn't hide, filled the entire room.

"Don't start," she whispered.

"Start what?" he replied, as if he didn't know, as if he hadn't noticed that they were millimeters away from a limit that no one mentioned.

They were no longer arguing about whether she was looking at him or not. They were no longer talking about whether they were professionals. For a moment, it seemed that it didn't matter who had walked through the door and who had closed the window.

It was just a battle of pride, of egos, of wills that refused to yield... But underneath it all, deep within every word, every glance...

"Don't make assumptions about me," she snapped, her eyes fixed on his. Her voice was low, sharp, and unyielding.

"But I'm getting closer... aren't I?" He didn't back down. He never did. "That's why you react like this." 

"No," she replied without hesitation. "It's just exhausting to watch you try, to see how you insist." 

"Exhausting is putting up with you." 

"Don't be ridiculous." She looked at him as if he were exactly that, a ridiculous person she couldn't believe was standing there in front of her, so sure of himself.

But Gabriel didn't smile this time. There was something else in his eyes. Real doubt, the kind that might hurt a little.

"I didn't lie when I said I didn't want to beat you." His voice was different now. Deep, but not cold. "I'm not even sure I did this afternoon, maybe it was just luck." 

Marinette's gaze wandered for a second, but she quickly returned it.

"What I do want to know is why," he continued. "Why couldn't you look at me? Did you want to be professional? Reserved? Indifferent?" 

Marinette turned her face slightly, but her lips tightened into a half-smile full of venom.

"Maybe it's because your face gives me a headache," she said, with ironic sweetness.

"And don't you get tired of listening to yourself?" he bellowed with an equally fake smile. "Although I suppose talking to yourself in front of the mirror trains you quite well." 

"Was that a cheap joke, or are you describing your morning routine?" she countered.

"You'd know if you looked at me for more than two seconds." 

And then it happened.

It wasn't planned, nor intentional, much less slow. It was one of those moments that slips between pride and fury, and can no longer be stopped.

Their bodies were so close that when they faced each other, just a little, their lips brushed against each other.

A touch, barely a whisper of skin against skin, so superficial, so slight, that for a moment neither of them knew if it had been real, but it was, and it was more than enough.

Because the next move was instinctive, wild, a silent plea, a wordless response to an endless argument.

Gabriel and Marinette's lips melted together urgently, it was a kiss without permission, without logic, and without control. His lips captured hers forcefully, without initial gentleness, only raw need, and she responded in kind, their mouths devouring each other, colliding and recognizing each other in the chaos.

Marinette's lips moved quickly, as if every second belonged to her, as if she were the one who decided how much passion to endure. And Gabriel responded in kind, dominant, keeping his face tilted toward hers, his nose brushing her cheek, his breath mingling with hers, his mouth tracing the shape of hers as if he knew it from before.

It was a kiss of fighting, rage, and surrender without admitting it.

Hands were not raised, bodies did not touch beyond the lips... but it was enough. That kiss spoke a language that the argument could not break, a clash of two egos... Two mouths that said it all in silence.

For a moment, they didn't remember why they were arguing, or what they were doing there, or how they had gotten to that point. They only knew that they were kissing as if they needed it more than air.

And the world... disappeared.

It was Gabriel who let his guard down first, his large hands rising with an impulse that did not pass through his head, only through his nerves, through his burning skin. One of his hands rested on the young woman's cheek, the other around her neck, his fingers tangling at the base of her hair. He did not want her to escape. Not while her lips tasted like that.

Marinette, out of reflex or necessity, pressed her hands against his chest. Her palms met the heat beneath the fabric, the line of his muscles, and there they remained, not to push him away or stop him, but simply to feel him. To anchor herself.

The kiss grew, and with it, everything they had tried to hide since they met.

There was no sweetness, no waiting, only hunger, a raw, tense, fierce need that consumed them completely.

Marinette's lips parted under the insistent pressure of Gabriel's, he pressed them hard, without violence but without permission, as if searching for an answer that his pride never allowed him to ask for with words, and she gave it to him with her tongue, with her touch, with her rhythm.

Their mouths moved urgently, and at the same time with a synchronicity they did not understand. The girl's lips trapped his, pulled at them, pulled away just enough to devour them again.

The man responded in kind, taking, marking, opening the kiss a little more, joining the touch with the moist heat of their tongues that met as if they already knew each other, as if they had been waiting for this moment since their first exchange of words.

Both of their breaths became ragged. They were drowning in each other. But they didn't stop.

Gabriel's face lowered, leaning toward her, closing the space between them, as if he wanted to melt completely into that mouth. His fingers closed more tightly around the back of her neck, pulling her close. She raised her arms, sliding them around his shoulders, her fingers closing around the fabric of his T-shirt, as if she didn't know what to do with such intensity, with such passion suddenly overwhelming her.

They were no longer thinking, only feeling. The taste, the warmth, the texture of each other's lips. The way their mouths opened and closed with need, as if they were resolving everything they couldn't say to each other, as if that kiss were a language only they understood.

He tilted his head slightly to deepen it, to take her more and lose himself more.

Their lips met and parted for just a moment, the minimum necessary to return with more force, so that the kiss felt like an uncontrolled fire, and between ragged breaths, veiled gasps, and hearts beating too fast, their bodies seemed to have forgotten everything.

There was no more discussion, only that kiss, that unforgettable first kiss between them. And although neither of them knew it, although they both denied it afterwards with every gesture, they had already crossed a line.

One from which they could not turn back.

It was Gabriel who dominated at times, pressing his lips hard, opening his mouth hungrily, with that contained urgency that was unlike anything he had ever felt before. But it was Marinette who responded most fiercely, returning the impulse, biting his lower lip, as if she wanted to punish and devour him at the same time.

Their tongues met again and again, colliding with a rhythm that was not one of harmony, but of war, of desire, of rage turned into passion. Their lips slid, wet, half-open, closing only to open again with more eagerness. They weren't kissing, they were attacking. They sought each other with such intensity that their breaths were lost, panting between their lips, gasping for air, and it didn't matter, nothing mattered anymore.

The girl's teeth grazed his, and he responded in kind, pressing his mouth harder, and that sharp touch ignited them further. Their faces tilted, leaning urgently, colliding again, adjusting like impatient pieces that fit together during chaos.

Marinette's body tensed, vibrating beneath his. Her hands were now on his shoulders, on his neck, one moving up to the back of his neck, pulling his hair slightly, as if she couldn't bear the need to bring him closer.

Gabriel lowered one of his hands to her waist, closing it there decisively, feeling the curve of her body yield under his palm, as if the space between them were an offense he wanted to eradicate completely, and he did.

Their bodies joined, chest to chest, legs intertwined. Blood pounding in their ears, their chests rising and falling, gasping for oxygen between kisses, there was no distance left, only heat and fire.

The man leaned in closer, pulling the young woman back, forcing her to rest her heels and hold on to him. She did so, not out of reflex, but out of desire. Because her body was no longer hers, but belonged to that need that was devouring her.

The kiss grew even more intense, their mouths opening desperately, their tongues caressing each other urgently, sometimes softly, sometimes violently, their lips pressing together until they burned, and the world, time, reason, had ceased to exist.

There was only him, her, and that kiss.

That damn kiss that shouldn't have happened, but was the only thing keeping them alive, and then, without thinking, without knowing it, that kiss almost changed shape.

Gabriel's body reacted. He pressed closer, his breathing became rougher, his hand on her waist moved down a few inches, as if the next step had already been decided.

And Marinette leaned closer to him, her lips devouring his with more hunger, as if she were seconds away from giving in completely, as if that kiss could no longer be stopped, as if there were no world where it didn't end in something more.

The atmosphere was charged, dense, and electric. And just when it seemed there was no turning back...

A sound, not loud, not clear. A dull thud, perhaps a movement out of place, a small scratch against the wood of the desk, a tiny change in the environment, but it was enough.

Enough for Marinette to freeze for a second and for Gabriel to do the same. Their lips were still touching, their breathing ragged, but their bodies... frozen.

At that exact moment, awareness hit them like a bucket of cold water.

Marinette's eyes opened slightly, and so did Gabriel's. It was as if they were finally seeing each other, really seeing each other, not as enemies, not as coworkers. But as two people who had just done something they couldn't explain or justify.

Their mouths were still touching, barely, but there was no movement, only disbelief. As if neither of them could understand what they were doing there, so close, entangled, and utterly lost.

Marinette's hands moved away first, almost trembling, then, slowly, Gabriel's did too. They separated as if something were burning between them. Not out of passion, but out of fear, shame, and the brutal realization that the kiss had been real.

That it had meant something and that it should not have happened.

They both stood there, face to face, breathing heavily, their faces still red from the heat, not knowing what to say, what to do, or how to look at each other.

Because somewhere between the argument and pride... they had crossed a line and neither of them knew how to go back.

They both tried to speak, not at the same time, just... a gesture, a slight movement of the lips, an intention that failed to materialize. As if the words had been lost somewhere between their mouths and their thoughts.

Nothing made sense, nothing they said could explain what had just happened, so they fell silent again, without words and without explanations. For the first time, completely silent.

But their lips still burned. The sensation of the other remained, like a mark. A warm echo on the skin. A presence that didn't want to leave.

Marinette's cheek still felt the touch of his large, warm fingers. And Gabriel still felt her hands on his shoulders, his neck, his throat. The strength with which she had held him. The urgency with which she had kissed him.

The young woman was the first to move and perhaps also the first to break the spell. She said nothing, just turned away, as if she had suddenly remembered who she was and what she was doing there. She had gone to complicate everything, just to solve a problem, and instead... she had created a worse one.

She felt her steps weigh heavily as she walked to the window, aware that he was watching her, but she didn't turn around. The girl opened the window. The icy air outside hit her like a slap in the face. So brutally different from the warmth she had felt seconds before, when he had her against his body. When his mouth had been on hers.

The young woman didn't stop; she began her descent. Her feet sought support with precision. She knew that a fall from that height could break something, maybe more than one thing.

But she made it. Marinette descended skillfully, carefully, until she finally touched the ground, safe and sound, at least physically.

From above, Gabriel hadn't moved an inch. He was there, at the window, with the same fixed gaze with which he had followed her every move.

The man watched her when she reached the ground and when she began to walk away. Marinette didn't run, she didn't hurry, she just disappeared, little by little, into the darkness.

Only then, when her figure was no longer visible, did Gabriel close the window. He returned to his bed as if he didn't quite know why, or what to do after something like that. He let himself fall backward, his feet still touching the floor. His head was tilted toward the ceiling.

He couldn't sleep, or think clearly. Not after that. 

His fingers, without realizing it, slid over his own lips, which still felt warm. He could still imagine hers: their taste, their texture, the exact pressure. Then his gaze dropped.

The man noticed it right away; his erection was evident under his pajama pants. His body didn't lie; it had responded to everything: to the argument, to the closeness, to that hellish kiss that still burned his mouth.

Gabriel closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the bed, frustrated, confused, almost overwhelmed. He thought he wouldn't have to go back to the double bathrooms for a while, but clearly he was wrong.

He caressed his lips once more with his fingers, lost, still breathing with some agitation. And, like a thought he couldn't avoid even if he wanted to, a question formed in his mind, dense and dangerous:

If that damn noise hadn't brought them back to reality...

How far would they have gone that night?

 

---

 

Marinette arrived at her room with her heart in her throat.

The darkness of the house was her silent ally; she crossed hallways and staircases like an elusive shadow, without stopping, without looking back. When she finally closed the door to her room and found herself alone, she ran to her bed as if something were chasing her.

The young woman sank under the covers, wrapping herself in them with an almost childlike desperation, as if the warmth of the sheets could protect her from what she had just done. Only then did she breathe, or try to. The air entered her lungs only halfway, as if something were stuck in her chest, something burning, thick, throbbing. Her mind, now free to think, began to bombard her with questions.

What the hell? How did this happen? How the hell did they go from arguing like two madmen to... that? The memory hit her hard and her face immediately turned the color of fire.

The kiss. Was it passionate? No, it was more than that, it was fucking passionate. She could still feel it, the pressure of his lips on hers, strong, determined, intense, overwhelming. She could swear she still felt that force, that touch, that back and forth between their mouths as if not a second had passed since then.

Her cheeks burned, not only from the memory of the kiss, but from what that kiss implied. Where had he touched her? His fingers were on her face, on her waist... Her waist! How many times had she complained about someone touching her without permission, and she had let him take her as if she belonged to him?

It wasn't that kissing embarrassed her; kissing someone could be the most natural thing in the world, but not like this, not with that urgency, not with that desperation. Not as if... as if it were the only thing that mattered in the whole damn world.

Marinette remembered her own movements, and that was worse. Did she move her lips like that? Yes, she had. She had responded with the same intensity, with the same fire. She touched his chest, his neck, his shoulders, his damn hair. How was she supposed to live with that?!

And that wasn't all, she had kissed him with her tongue, she had stuck her tongue in his mouth! She had bitten him! The memory slapped her in the face and made her moan in embarrassment. What was she doing? 

The girl closed her eyes, wanting to erase everything, but the more she tried to escape, the more present it became. She could swear she could still feel the texture of his lips, the way he kissed her, how he pressed against her and took every corner of her mouth as if he needed it. How did they go from an absurd argument to a passionate kiss?

She didn't know. All she knew was that she hadn't known how to look at him after that night... How would she do it now?

And worse still, what would he think? Would he think she had come on to him? It seemed so, but he had too. He had held her and pressed her close, kissing her as if time were running out.

Had they made advances toward each other?

The young woman squeezed her eyes shut and brought her fingers to her lips, running them gently over them. They were sensitive, burning, not only from the pressure, but from the contrast between the roughness of his bites and the warmth of his mouth, and again, like a mental bite that wouldn't leave her alone. 

How far would they have gone... if they hadn't stopped?

Her legs pressed together under the sheets, her chest rose and fell, and the air still felt heavy. The silence of her room enveloped her, but inside her, the echo of the kiss continued to scream.

Notes:

Too soon? Too slow? It's hard to know when the kiss is right. I didn't know whether to delay it further or not, but with everything else that's coming up in the plot, I think it's appropriate.

Did you like it? I hope so.

And as always, my deepest gratitude.

Chapter 13: What is sustained without words.

Summary:

Gabriel considers his options for talking to Marinette about the kiss, but her reaction forces him to take other measures.

Gabriel had never been so scared in his life as he was that morning, and that was saying a lot for someone like him.

He had faced million-dollar business decisions and betrayals that could destroy empires, but never anything so unstable, so unpredictable, so personal, as seeing a young woman after a kiss like that.

For a moment, he considered staying in his room, faking a headache, an urgent call, anything, but no.

That would be an act of cowardice, and if there was one thing he detested more than weakness, it was acting like a coward. So he dressed as usual, impeccably, and walked to the door, but stopped.

Would she be on the other side? He didn't know, and that was what had his heart pounding between his teeth.

They hadn't spoken, Marinette had left, and Gabriel hadn't done anything to stop her, like an idiot, so he didn't know what they were now, nor did he know what would happen when they saw each other again.

Were they partners? Allies? Enemies with a history of kissing?

Gabriel sighed, swallowing his anxiety, he put his hand on the doorknob, turned it, and there was Marinette, right across the hall.

Although it was only for a second, their eyes met. He saw her and she looked at him too. Until she turned her face away with the speed of a whip, as if the eye contact burned her, as if he wasn't there, as if the night before hadn't happened.

Gabriel said nothing, not even a greeting, a sarcastic comment, or a smile. He simply walked on, feeling his footsteps like stones falling into a calm lake.

He could feel her like a magnet behind him, and at the same time like a wall. Which was worse? Was she ignoring him, or was she too close?

Gabriel reached the dining room and slumped into his seat, not caring about the noise the chair made. He was in no mood to pretend that everything was going wonderfully.

He was about to pick up his cutlery, ready to chew his frustration along with his scrambled eggs, when he heard the sharp sound of the chair next to him.

Marinette also plopped down, as it was somehow her routine, but she seemed oblivious, as if nothing had happened, almost as if he weren't there and as if their lips hadn't been locked together less than ten hours ago.

But she didn't look at him, not even out of the corner of her eye, not even by accident. The man, on the other hand, did look at her. He stared at her for several seconds, trying to figure her out with his eyes alone, as if he could read her thoughts through that furrowed brow and that mouth that was barely pressed together at the edges.

If only he could talk to her, say something, anything, an apology, a question, a damn word, or better yet, listen to her, let Marinette say everything that was stuck in that sharp tongue that knew how to kiss as well as insult.

But he couldn't, not with those cameras, in that damn house with no privacy. Could it be that none of the others noticed the electricity in the air? At least that would make it easier.

So they were doomed to stand there in silence, side by side, chewing on the same air, the same thoughts, and the same tremor contained in their fingers.

Breakfast tasted like cardboard, because his hunger had disappeared the moment Marinette turned her gaze away, because everything inside him was asking for one thing: to talk, to touch her, to kiss her again, to fight or something, but nothing happened, and that, for now, was the worst thing of all.

Gabriel was fed up with the silence, with the cameras, fed up with not even being able to talk freely with her in his own home. The man understood protocol, security, all that, but that didn't change the fact that, at that moment, he felt that the only thing he needed was not protection, but a damn conversation with the young woman without being watched.

He gripped the cutlery tightly than necessary, the tension building up in his fingers resulting in a clumsy grip, and one of them, a miserable fork, fell to the floor with a clang.

Gabriel snorted, frowning in annoyance. Was this entire morning going to be a complete disaster? He bent down to pick it up, but he wasn't the only one. Marinette did too, and then it happened.

There was a brush, a simple touch, their hands barely touching above their fingers, and the world stopped again. 

Marinette didn't move, Gabriel watched her, as if he could read her at that moment, trying to make that brush of fingers say more than everything they had said in weeks, so he moved a finger.

It was a barely perceptible movement, a subtle, tiny caress, a silent confession.

The young woman reacted; she withdrew her hand, quickly picked up the fork, and placed it on the table as if nothing had happened, pretending that the brief touch had not happened. 

The man stood up, still with the urge to say something, but she was quicker.

"It's already dirty," she said without looking at him. "You need another one." 

Before he could respond, Marinette got up to fetch another one. In another situation, Gabriel would have reprimanded her, reminding her that she was not his servant, that he had already told her not to do such things.

But the man said nothing, because he knew why she was doing it. Marinette was escaping, evading him, creating distance with small actions. That invisible distance that bothered him so much. 

It made him boil inside, but he wouldn't explode, not this time, and especially not with her.

Gabriel had learned that explosions only created more walls, and with Marinette, something else was needed: intelligence, cunning, and a lot of patience. 

He had to be smarter than her, he had to know when to attack and, more importantly, when to remain silent.

Marinette returned with another fork, placed it next to him, and he decided not to look at her. 

"Thank you," he said in a neutral voice.

"You're welcome, sir," she replied.

She called him sir. She hadn't forgotten the line. The stupid line she had drawn with words the night before, all that nonsense about formality, professionalism, and disguise.

Gabriel swallowed hard, he avoided answering, he just looked down and put a piece of bread in his mouth, he chewed silently, and took a sip of coffee.

He had to let her believe that everything was tense, let her believe that he was upset, let her settle into that false calm, and then he would strike.

Because if anything bothered him more than mistakes, it was being left without answers, and he wanted one.

 

---

 

The rest of the morning passed with a deceptive calm. Gabriel forced himself to concentrate on his work. Emails, meetings, numbers, documents, anything that would distract him from the chaos burning just below the surface. He couldn't ignore it, of course not, but he couldn't let himself get caught up in it now either. Not yet.

The man knew that the shift wouldn't last much longer, that sooner or later someone else would replace Marinette. And then his chance would be gone. So, as soon as he marked the last email as answered, as soon as he closed the last folder, he turned off his computer and allowed himself to exhale sharply.

Gabriel got up, left the lectern, and walked out of his office. The walk to the kitchen was slow, calculated, his movements measured and controlled. He didn't have to look artificial, just casual, too casual. Everything needed to look natural. As if nothing had happened.

The kitchen was silent. There was no sign of anyone. Solitude was a valuable ally. 

He walked over to the cabinet where the liquor bottles were kept. He knew perfectly well that Marinette's eyes were on him. He felt her attention like a warmth on his back. It was his job, after all, to observe, evaluate, and anticipate.

But this time he didn't need her to protect him. He just needed her to follow him.

Without rushing, he took out two bottles. He didn't even check them too closely. The type didn't matter, as long as they were visible. As long as they were suggestive enough. One wouldn't be enough. A single bottle could be an indulgence, but two? Two were a statement.

The man also took a crystal glass. One of those heavy ones with a thick bottom, like the ones he used on nights when he didn't want to remember anything.

Gabriel turned without looking at the girl. He didn't say a word to her. He just walked to his room like someone with a private matter to resolve behind closed doors.

Marinette watched him. Across the hallway, from her usual position, in silence. At first glance, she seemed unmoved. But Gabriel knew that wasn't the case. He knew that little twitch in her brow, that subtle tension in her jaw. She was analyzing him.

And that was part of the plan.

The man reached his room. He pushed the door open with his shoulder and entered without stopping. He closed the door behind him without rushing. 

The young woman remained outside, in her position, motionless, but inside something was boiling.

The image of Gabriel with two bottles, one in each arm, and that stupid glass, was like a time bomb. She knew it. They had talked about this. They had argued. What the hell was wrong with him now? Was it deliberate sabotage? Did he want to lose consciousness again? To behave like an idiot again?

What was she supposed to do? Watch from afar while he destroyed what little self-respect he still had? The girl clenched her teeth, kept her arms crossed, and didn't take her eyes off that closed door.

She could ignore him. It wasn't her problem. But unfortunately, it was. Because her job wasn't just to protect him from the world. Sometimes, even if he didn't know it, it was to protect him from himself.

And if Gabriel thought he was going to get away with it, he was very wrong.

Marinette doesn't know for sure, but she can feel the irritation starting to burn in the back of her neck. She leans her back against the wall, arms crossed, staring at the closed door of the room. 

Her boots are firmly planted on the ground, and although her body appears to be at rest, the stiffness in her shoulders betrays her. Part of her wants to do nothing. She wants to stay there, motionless, oblivious. It's not her problem if he decides to behave like a self-destructive teenager with money and zero common sense. But she can't. Because that professional part of her, the part that was trained to anticipate threats, the part that has seen him lose control with a single bottle, cannot ignore that this time he has two.

Ten minutes pass, then twenty and counting. 

During that time, the young woman kept watching the door. At times, she tries to look away, to focus on the hallway or her breathing, but her eyes always return. Waiting for a sound, a movement, a sign that everything is fine, or that everything is about to break. Until, as if the universe were responding to her, a noise cuts through the air.

It's like glass shattering on the floor, dry, clear, immediate. The sound bounces off the walls of the hallway, creeps up her spine, and tightens her stomach.

After that, there is only silence. A silence that is too dense, too perfect. One that shouldn't exist if everything were fine. Marinette doesn't want to be alarmed. She doesn't want to worry. But that sound has frozen her blood.

She acts. Without thinking, the girl runs toward the door, driven by instinct. Her steps are quick, her breathing agitated, and in a single action, she pushes the door open with force. 

The room is slightly dark, barely lit by the warm light of the desk lamp. The smell in the air has no trace of liquor, but her gaze quickly finds the shattered glass on the floor, like a body scattered into pieces.

Her eyes search for him until they find him. Gabriel is sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over, his elbows resting on his thighs and his hands clasped together, as if inspecting them. 

Marinette reacts immediately, rushing over to him in two quick steps, crouching down in front of him, taking his wrists firmly to check them, but there is no blood. No wounds. Not even the slightest scratch. There is no smell of alcohol on his breath or in the air.

Marinette blinked, confused, not understanding, and he took the opportunity to speak. 

"You didn't take long at all." 

"What?" She frowned, still agitated. 

Gabriel looked up, calm, with an almost irritating serenity. It wasn't mocking. Nor was it provocative. Just strategic.

"I told you you were predictable," he added quietly, as if stating an inevitable truth.

The young woman blinked again, but this time her confusion began to mix with anger. "What about the bottles?"

Gabriel held one up, the label still intact under the metal seal. "Sealed," he replied, then smiled slightly. "Very good year, by the way." 

Marinette clenched her jaw, her teeth barely touching. "You used your history of idiocy to trick me?" 

"No," he replies without hesitation. "I used your sense of duty. Which is much more solid than my history." 

And there it is. The moment she realizes she has fallen right into a trap.

The broken glass was just a sign. The double bottle, a provocation. Every second was calculated, and he... knew it.

Marinette turned slightly, taking a small step back. Her eyes scan the door, the only way out. The door that now remains closed behind her. He stands in front of her. The room, the only place in the entire house without cameras, without prying ears, without protocols. Armored silence.

She is trapped, and the worst part is that Gabriel knows it too. The young woman begins to move, determined to leave, not to give him that ground, but the man's voice stops her.

"Do you want to tell me what happened last night, or are we just going to keep pretending it wasn't real?"

"Nothing happened," she replied coldly, without hesitation, as if she had already rehearsed those words. 

Gabriel raised an eyebrow slightly, with that expression of his that always hovered between irony and defiance, although this time there was a different nuance. It wasn't mockery. It was something closer to bewilderment, tinged with a hint of annoyance.

"Nothing happened?" he repeated, as if he found it hard to believe. "Then what was it?" 

The young woman crossed her arms tightly, as if that posture could serve as armor. Her back was straight, her chin up, but her eyes wavered for a second.

"It was a mistake. One that shouldn't be repeated." 

The smile that appeared on the man's face was not the usual one. It was not haughty or arrogant. It was a crooked half-smile, like a broken line.

"A mistake?" He repeated bitterly, without raising his voice. "Kissing you was an interesting mistake." 

"Don't do it, Gabriel." Her voice tightened, sharp, with that hardness she used when she didn't want to show any cracks.

"Don't do what? Name it?" He asked, and his tone was so calm that it seemed as if nothing was wrong, as if they were talking about the weather and not a line they had both crossed the night before.

Then Gabriel sat up, without making any sudden movements. He just straightened his back, sitting more upright on the edge of the bed, his eyes still fixed on her, as if searching precisely for the exact point where her defense was weakest, and he did so without haste. Without pressure. But with intention.

Marinette didn't move. She just looked at him, challenging him with her gaze, but her arms were still crossed, as if she were holding herself back.

"I didn't come here to talk about that," she said.

"No, you prefer to ignore it," he replied without hesitation. "That's your answer to everything." 

His words hit deeper than they should have been able to. Marinette clenched her fists, her knuckles white from the pressure, and her breathing began to quicken, barely noticeable but growing.

"What do you want me to say? Was I wrong? That I shouldn't have touched you?" She spat out forcefully but with a barely perceptible crack at the end.

Gabriel stood up. He didn't do it with anger or urgency, but still, it was as if the whole room shrank. Marinette looked up at him. He was no longer on the bed. Now he was standing. And closer.

His gaze was dense, darker, as if he were trying to see beyond what she was willing to show.

"And did you? Did you want to do it?"

The young woman hesitated. The question wasn't complicated. However, the answer seemed to be buried somewhere difficult to reach. The distance continued to shorten, not with steps, but with the weight of everything left unsaid and with the memory of the touch of lips, with the heat that their bodies still felt when they looked at each other.

"It's not that simple," she murmured.

"And why not?" he asked gently, but without backing down.

"Because we are..." She paused. The words wouldn't come out. She searched for a definition, one that wouldn't ruin everything. "Because this isn't part of the deal. Because you are my job." 

Gabriel let out a brief, dry laugh, without humor. "Now you want to draw a line? After last night?" 

"I tried last night," she snapped. "And look how that turned out." 

The man sighed, and for the first time, his tone changed. It was neither mocking nor reproachful. It was lower, more honest, as if he were choosing each word carefully so as not to break her.

"I just want us to clear this up. Because I don't want to stand in front of that door every morning wondering if you'll be there or not."

"I won't quit," she replied almost immediately, as if the defense was already loaded in her mouth.

"That's not the worst part," he replied. "The worst part is that you have a very strange way of dealing with problems."

"You think so?" 

"Because you don't deal with them, Marinette. You just ignore them."

At that moment, Marinette's communicator vibrated with a subtle buzz, but the sound was like a stone thrown into the tense water that stretched between them. She quickly took it out, recognizing the channel. It was Renaud.

"What's going on, Marinette?" asked the man's voice, more alert than concerned. "You know you have to report any incidents." 

The young woman reacted quickly, as if that voice brought her back to her role, to the impenetrable facade she wore so well.

"I went in. Mr. Agreste dropped his glass and it broke. I'm helping him pick it up," she replied efficiently, without a single crack.

"Okay. Make sure there's no danger. But don't forget to report what's happening." 

That was all. The communicator returned to its place, and the room returned to the same suffocating silence as before. Nothing had changed. The words floated in the air, like unsheathed blades.

Two forces. Facing each other. Without shields. Without further witnesses.

The girl looked at the man again, her arms half-crossed, as if she no longer knew whether to protect herself or surrender.

"I don't understand what exactly you want me to say," she murmured. Her voice had a strange edge to it, like the broken edge of glass. "What do you want to hear?" 

There was weariness in her eyes, a hint of resignation. As if she were about to give up. And that idea was like a blow to the chest for him.

"I want you to tell me what you really think!" he roared, his voice coming out stronger than he had intended. "What do you really want! Forget all that nonsense they taught you, for once!"

Marinette blinked, surprised not by the shout, but by the emotion behind it.

"I know you won't let me go until you're satisfied," she said in a lower, more tired tone.

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, as if trying to shake off the weight on his shoulders. His gaze was neither cold nor angry. It was something deeper. A frustration that penetrated to his very bones.

This wasn't just about a kiss. It was about the gulf between them. The one that had always been there. He, the employer. She, the bodyguard. He, the owner of the house. She, watching from outside. Their positions would never be equal, and they knew it. But if they didn't talk now, that rift would end up tearing them apart.

So Gabriel approached her. He did so slowly, not threateningly, but with a quiet gravity, and the young woman did not move.

His height imposed itself, that difference always so obvious, but now it seemed to weigh even more heavily. When he stopped in front of her, his face tilted slightly, just enough to be at her level. He did not touch her. He did not even brush her skin. But his breath was there, sharing the same air.

They could see each other perfectly. Not even a blink or a gesture could go unnoticed by the other.

"Listen very carefully to what I'm going to say," he whispered, his voice hoarse from the control he was exerting. "Because I won't repeat it." 

Marinette opened her lips, but he raised a hand. "No. Listen to me," he asked, this time more quietly.

"If the kiss was something grotesque, something inhuman, something you never want to talk about again, tell me now. Tell me here and now," he declared. "If it was a mistake you regret... If you don't want me to touch you again, even by accident, if that's what you want," he took a deep breath, "then I swear on my name that I won't. I won't mention anything. I won't touch you. I won't cross that line ever again." His voice didn't tremble. But his gaze burned with pure sincerity.

Marinette didn't know what to say, and that terrified her, because she knew what she should say. She should accept his promise, close the matter, say yes, that it was a mistake, that they should forget about it and that was that. It was the professional, rational, and sensible thing to do.

But her throat seemed unresponsive, because what she should say did not match what she wanted to say. For the young woman, it was too great a conflict.

What would happen if she didn't close this door? She still didn't have the answer. She only knew that whatever she did after this, nothing would ever be the same again.

Marinette lowers her gaze, or at least tries to, but before she can escape to the floor, a warm, determined finger rests under her chin. Gabriel forces her to raise her face with just that touch. There is no force, no roughness, only intention. The intention was not to let her escape, not this time.

Their eyes meet again, and the world around them disappears once more. Once again, they are in that bubble where only the two of them exist.

"If it really bothers you that much," he began in a voice that now sounded different, less harsh, more real, "I want you to know that it was never my intention to upset you like that." His eyes remain fixed on hers. "But I don't feel the slightest bit of regret." 

The young woman blinks. She didn't expect that. Although she should have. It's Gabriel, after all.

"You have no shame," she finally replied, with that coldness she used to cover cracks. But even that coldness feels weaker this time.

The man smiles. It's not a laugh or a blatant mockery, just a small amused grimace, as if she had given him exactly what he needed. As if she were a spark that he enjoyed igniting.

And Marinette, the young woman who never hesitates, now seemed on the verge of doing so. She didn't back down, she didn't give ground, but she didn't advance either. And that, for her, was a silent surrender.

The man doesn't back away. On the contrary, he takes another step into that invisible space that always separates them.

For him, she is the greatest mystery. More than the threats in the shadows, more than everything that slips through his fingers. Marinette was his most personal enigma. His most dangerous fascination.

The girl says nothing immediately, but her eyes speak with something that is not easily named.

"You look for answers where there are only decisions you don't know how to accept." 

Gabriel looked at her as if she had just given him a clue. Something he doesn't quite understand, but which confirms why he can't stop looking for her.

"An answer you don't want to give me, but it doesn't matter, I'll get it anyway." 

Then the temperature between them rises. No contact, no words. Pure contained desire.

There is no warning when Gabriel leans in, but there is no rush either. He throws himself into it, yes, but not with the urgency of last night. This time his lips touch hers with an unusually shy touch, as if he's not sure he should, but he needs to know.

There is no hunger, only discovery.

The man does not move aggressively, but with a disarming care. It is not the kiss of someone who wants to win, but of someone willing to lose everything to know how it really feels to kiss her.

He has given Marinette enough time to close that door. To say no. To even hit him. But she doesn't. She doesn't reject him; her lips, tense at first, soften. They open. And they move. As if they were both remembering. As if they were choosing it.

Marinette responds with just the right amount of pressure, with just the right caress. It's not an explosive kiss like the one before. It's not a war of lips, but a tacit agreement. A language with their mouths.

Gabriel feels the way her lips fit to his. He feels her ragged breath brush his cheek. He feels his fingers tense a little, his body unsure whether to cling to him or remain standing.

He doesn't touch her beyond her lips. He doesn't hold her, he doesn't force her. He just kisses her. As if he fears that any other movement would break the spell.

Marinette tilts her face slightly, as if to deepen the angle, as if the impulse pushes her without her being able to help it, that slight gesture is enough for Gabriel to feel it throughout his body.

Their lips move in a slow, enveloping rhythm, as if they both want to memorize every second, every touch, every little exhalation, and there is no other sound, just the two of them.

The tension burns inside them. Now it vibrates between their chest and stomach, between their neck and fingers. In that kiss, there is no war, only a decision. They have both chosen it. Neither of them says it, but they know it.

She closes her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she thinks of nothing else. Not her duty. Not the cameras. Not the professional line they are crossing. She only thinks of how warm his lips are. Of how her body feels when they are this close.

The man, for his part, still doesn't move much. But his heart is beating fast. Loud and clear. As if he had just found an answer he didn't even know he was looking for.

And this time, it's Marinette who moves her hands. She does it slowly, as if she, too, is afraid of breaking something that is just beginning to be built. Her fingers touch Gabriel's chest cautiously. She feels him breathing under her palms, feels his strong, insistent heartbeat, right there where the fabric barely serves as a barrier.

However, the young woman does not stop. Her hands continue to rise slowly, up his chest, along the curve of his collarbones, to his shoulders. There they stop. They cling. As if she needed to make sure he wouldn't go away. As if, for the first time, she wanted to hold him close enough so as not to lose him again.

Gabriel understands this and, with his eyes closed and his lips still on hers, he feels that signal as an invitation. As permission. So, finally, he dares to move too.

His large, confident hands, trembling inside, slowly slide toward her. He doesn't touch her right away. He allows himself to breathe, focused on not ruining anything. His fingers rest first on her back, barely touching her, as if her skin might burst at the slightest mistake. Then, from there, he slides them down Marinette's sides until he reaches her waist.

When he places them there, it is not a casual gesture, it is intentional. Gabriel does not just rest his hands there, he adjusts them, he holds her. He feels the shape of her waist under his fingers, the subtle movement of her breath in time with his own. He holds her carefully, yes, but also with a silent need, as if his balance depended on that contact.

Their mouths move with a slow, precise cadence, so intimate that it hurts. There is no rush. There is no urgency. Only desire, tender and patient. Their lips seek each other out and find each other again and again, without stopping, as if each touch were a truth confessed without words.

The man has to lean a little closer, bending his body toward her, because the difference in height makes anything else impossible. But he doesn't care. If it means being closer, if it means kissing her better, he bends as much as necessary. He even lets himself be guided by the strength of his own hands on her waist.

Marinette keeps her eyes closed. Her fingers press lightly on his shoulders, feeling the muscle beneath the fabric, feeling the heat. With each movement of their mouths, her breathing quickens. It is not a hurried agitation, but an exhalation that mingles with his.

The kiss is not monotonous. It is a living language.

Sometimes their lips press more intensely, other times they separate by just a few millimeters, as if the space between them were too intimate, too dangerous, and irresistible. Once or twice, their lips slide, caressing more than kissing, and then they meet again, as if they couldn't help themselves.

All of this happens in silence. Only their breath can be heard, broken and shared. Only the heat emanating from their bodies can be felt, seeping through their clothes, filling the room as if the room itself were also suspended in that moment.

He doesn't think, and neither does she. Neither of them remembers why they were arguing, or why this kiss should be forbidden. They only know that it is happening. That they chose it and that they are enjoying it.

Although their bodies are still, the kiss becomes deeper, more enveloping. As if now they are allowing themselves to savor each other, to get to know each other, to understand the weight of what they are doing.

Gabriel barely brushes his nose against hers as he changes angle, with a gentleness that doesn't seem like him, but which he now decides to let out. Marinette shivers, and her fingers cling tighter to his shoulders, as if anchoring herself to him.

They move with soft, slow lips, without violence but with intention, the kiss remaining alive and irresistible. As if nothing else existed. Only them in that moment.

The kiss continued like a steady flame, without wavering. It neither grew nor waned. It was a constant rhythm, like a prolonged whisper, a shared pulse. There was no rush, only the clarity of two people who were exactly where they wanted to be. Neither forced nor dominated. They simply found each other.

Time seemed to stand still until their lungs began to demand air. It was then that, reluctantly, their lips parted slightly. It wasn't a real withdrawal. It was a pause, a tiny interval between one breath and another. They were still so close that they could still feel each other's breath, warm and ragged. Their foreheads almost touching, their faces open and vulnerable, as if speaking after that kiss could be a betrayal.

Marinette took a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if she wanted to find some strength in the darkness behind her eyelids.

"It's just not right..." She whispered with difficulty, but her voice did not tremble. It was more of a thought-out loud than a warning.

The man watched her. His eyes remained fixed on hers. But he didn't mock her, he just maintained his intensity, which this time seemed to be tinged with a dangerous calm.

"Then stop me." He didn't wait for an answer. Because he knew that if there was one, it wouldn't be no. 

Their lips met again, this time with less hesitation and a little more hunger. It wasn't a wild kiss, but it was hotter. There was a slight change in the way they sought each other out, a little more surrender, a little more impulse. Their lips opened gently and closed again, tasting, feeling, exploring with a delicacy that only made it more intense with every passing second.

Gabriel kept his hands on her waist, his fingers extended but not tight. He was still holding back. He leaned toward her just enough, careful to maintain the space between their bodies. But then it was Marinette who closed the distance.

As if something inside her broke or gave in, she pressed herself against him naturally, as if her body knew exactly where it belonged. Her forehead almost touched his chin, and her smaller body leaned against his chest. The air between them no longer existed.

The man held his breath for a second. He felt her warmth, her pressure, her determination. He didn't move. He let his body hold her. His instinct pushed him for more, but his respect kept him in check.

Her fingers intertwined behind his neck, as if to make sure he wasn't going anywhere. Her grip was neither strong nor weak, it was just right.

Their lips made room for something more. Small caresses of the tongue began to mingle, as if their mouths wanted to get to know each other in more detail. But in a more private way. 

Sometimes he would seek out her lower lip and trap it between his. Sometimes she would respond with a slight pressure on the corner of her mouth. Their heads tilted slightly to meet each other better, as if the kiss were seeking to settle itself.

Their breaths intertwined, coming out in soft, warm bursts between one touch and another. The silence was dense, but not heavy; it was full of electricity, of pulsations. Of desire.

For the first time, they didn't think about the world beyond those lips, or her uniform, or his last name, or the cameras, or the threats, or duty, or pride—only that kiss.

It was Marinette who moved closer again, as if her body refused to separate from his. She pushed herself against him, and he responded instinctively, pressing himself against her too, as if something invisible, stronger than logic or duty, was drawing them together irrevocably. Their torsos aligned. Their breaths quickened. Their bodies seemed to speak to each other in an intimate language, unknown and yet perfectly natural.

The kiss continued, growing like a never-ending stream, a little more passionate with each passing moment, like a wave that did not break but advanced with each touch. Their mouths played with each other. The girl's tongue dared to brush against Gabriel's, and he did not hold back; he responded, dancing, savoring, teasing.

His hands, on her waist, felt the heat concentrated there, the slight movement of her rapid breathing. His own fingers squeezed gently, with no intention of holding her, but unable to resist wanting to hold her, as if that body anchored something deeper than his feet to the ground.

Her hands played with his hair, brushing the nape of his neck. She felt his chest beating against hers and the force of his stomach tensing as if something inside him had been ignited and he couldn't find the switch to turn it off. The heat rising up her neck was as palpable as the touch of his lips, and in her head there were no clear thoughts, only sensations, instincts, that touch, that scent, that mouth.

Their lips remained entwined, half-open, adjusting as if searching for the perfect way to fit together, with pauses of barely a sigh to continue playing, to continue teasing each other. At times, he gently bit her lower lip; at times, she did the same. Their heads tilted back and forth, searching for a better angle, better access, better taste.

It was a playful, dynamic kiss, full of intention. As if they were challenging each other with their tongues and daring each other with every touch. As if everything they couldn't say with words, they were now saying with the movement of their mouths.

But between sighs, between rapid breaths, Marinette managed to whisper, without pulling away completely, "I have to go back to my place..." 

Her voice came out between kisses, between breaths and sighs, barely a whisper that melted into the closeness. Neither of them knew how much time had passed. Minutes, maybe more. How long could a break from duty last without consequences?

Gabriel smiled slightly against her lips. His breath brushed hers. He watched her briefly through the veil between his lowered eyelashes.

"You take better care of me in here..." he murmured, in a mischievous tone, as if his tongue also knew how to play beyond the kiss.

The young woman couldn't help but laugh. It was a small, short, spontaneous laugh that burst between them like a bubble. But he took advantage of that laugh, that sweet carelessness, to press his lips a little harder against hers and kiss her again.

It wasn't rough. But it was more determined. As if he were using his mouth to convince her. His movements were an argument, a plea for her to stay.

And Marinette couldn't say no. Because her lips didn't pull away. Because her body didn't retreat. Because at that moment, the only thing that made sense was to keep kissing him.

The young woman couldn't, or rather, didn't want to say no. Returning to the corridor, to the cold and static position of guard duty, didn't seem as tempting as continuing to kiss the forbidden. Her heart was still pounding, her lips tingling with every touch, and Gabriel wasn't making it easy for her. 

He kissed her passionately, yes, but also with a silent devotion, as if each movement were a silent confession that she wasn't ready to hear out loud.

But there was a reality outside those lips. If she took too long, someone would notice her absence. And if they thought Gabriel was having another alcohol episode like last time, they would come without hesitation. And if they found them like this...

She couldn't even finish that thought. Even though that kiss was almost irresistible, even though the man's heat clouded her judgment, she did what she had to do. She pulled away. Not completely—her forehead was still close, her breath still caressing his—but her lips separated from his. The distance was minimal, but enough to speak and take a breath.

"They'll come if I don't leave," she repeated, her voice breaking. "And this scene isn't very... professional." 

Gabriel watched her, his hands still on her waist, as if he didn't want to let her go. And yes, he could prevent that from happening. He would only have to give an order, disable communications for a while, or even lie. He could do it. But he knew she wouldn't accept it. 

Marinette had already exploded over something like this when he manipulated the guard change that time. And to do it again would not only be an offense, it would be treason.

So he let her go. First her arms. Then her body. The air that entered between them was a cold blow, or perhaps it was his own body still wrapped in heat that made everything around him seem frozen.

"Even though you never gave me your answer." He pointed without moving, his voice almost a whisper, barely harsh.

The young woman turned her face toward him. For a moment, it seemed she would say nothing. That, as always, she would escape in silence. As she had done so many times before. As if kissing were one thing, and talking were another story. But this time, she didn't run away.

"I thought I had already been clear," she replied warmly. 

She brought her hands to Gabriel's cheeks. Her fingers were sure. She used the tips of her toes to lift herself up, and with that momentum, with that small physical decision, she drew him toward her. She kissed him. It was not a long kiss, nor an urgent one. It was a warm and precise touch. The man barely had time to feel the pressure of her lips before she pulled away.

When she did, it was as if she took with her the warmth, the response, and something else that Gabriel could not yet name.

The girl turned toward the door, but as she passed the bed, her gaze fell on the broken glass. The perfect evidence of the excuse. What was she supposed to be doing there?

"I'll clean it up," he said before she could say anything. 

It wasn't an order, nor an arrogant gesture. It almost sounded like a small offer, as if cleaning it up was part of the deal, part of the moment they had just shared.

Marinette nodded slightly. There was no time for more. She turned toward the door. She opened it and before disappearing, she paused. She looked at him. And he looked at her too.

It was a brief glance. But it was full of complicity, fire, and something that had been brewing between them in that room without cameras. Something that wasn't written anywhere in the contract.

The young woman finally walked through the door. And this time, Gabriel didn't have to watch her leave through the window. This time, she left through the door.

And for some reason... it felt like a beginning.

Notes:

I hope I haven't exaggerated by putting Gabriel in charge of this matter. But someone had to do it, and Marinette has her professional ethics, or at least she used to.

Thank you for your patience, it wasn't easy, I hope you like it.

Chapter 14: Too much charm in such a small space.

Summary:

With a new beginning for Gabriel and Marinette, being intimate in a house surrounded by people and cameras is not easy. Coping with what they are hiding is even more complicated, but nevertheless, they try.

The next day, Gabriel got ready much faster than usual, but he did so with meticulous attention to detail. He shaved until his skin was flawlessly smooth, without a trace of stubble. He combed his hair with rigorous perfection, every strand in place, as if trying to erase all traces of the chaos that had inhabited him the day before. 

The man wore his expensive, subtle cologne, which left a barely perceptible trail of wood and warm spices that filled the space. Today, he had to look as in control as possible.

When Gabriel opened the door, Marinette was there. Standing in the same position as always, her arms relaxed at her sides, her gaze attentive, wearing the same dark, perfectly tailored uniform. Everything about her seemed unchanged, except for her energy. He knew it instantly. The atmosphere felt different, as if the air between them had been heated by an invisible stove that only they could sense.

"Good morning," he greeted her calmly, as if his heart weren't pounding in his chest.

"Good morning," she replied in the same neutral tone, but he detected something different in her cadence. A slight softness, imperceptible to anyone else.

He began to walk toward the dining room and, as usual, felt her follow him a step behind. He couldn't see her, but he could feel her.

The rhythm of her footsteps, the way the sound of her boots echoed just a little slower than other mornings, as if she too were holding something back.

Upon reaching the dining room, Gabriel sat down quickly. She joined him shortly after, taking her usual place at his side, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. Without a word and without a movement.

Under the protection of the cameras, in a scene that seemed ordinary to outsiders, something was happening. They had a small exchange of souls sustained only by a glance.

Then Marinette made a very slight grimace at the corner of her lips. It wasn't an open smile; she wasn't that kind of woman, but Gabriel felt it like a caress from a distance. That slight, almost invisible gesture was worth more than a thousand words whispered in the dark. He didn't respond with a smile, but his eyes did; they softened, darkened, spoke to her.

They couldn't touch each other, nor could they speak freely. But in that tiny gesture, the world seemed to stop for half a second. Because now, they were both on exactly the same wavelength.

Unfortunately, the moment couldn't last forever; breakfast was already served and waiting to be eaten, and it would be very strange for them to just sit there staring at each other. 

The man held the fork, cut a small piece of fruit, and brought it to his mouth, all with calm. But as soon as the piece touched his tongue, he felt the young woman's gaze. He looked up for a second, but she was no longer looking at him, although he realized that she had been watching him. He knew this from the way her posture stiffened slightly when their eyes met.

Gabriel looked down with a small smile that was hidden in his coffee cup, then he casually dropped a napkin on the floor, too close to where Marinette's feet were. She remained motionless, she did not bend down, nor did she offer to pick up the piece of cloth. 

The man picked it up himself, but as he did so, his hand brushed the edge of the girl's boot, not by accident, but entirely on purpose, an excuse to touch each other. 

She didn't react immediately. But a few seconds later, as he continued eating, he felt the slight brush of a leg against his, very subtle, as if the young woman had adjusted her position in her seat. He said nothing, much less moved away. 

The heat settled between them under the table, in that invisible area where the cameras couldn't see. Marinette kept her face neutral, but her pupils were dilated, and Gabriel noticed.

"The coffee is stronger today," he commented, raising his voice slightly, looking at his cup.

"It's better, to stay awake," she replied without looking at him.

"There's a very good solution for that, it's called sleeping well." He turned his face slightly toward her, raising an eyebrow. "Do you have trouble sleeping?" 

"No, sir, I sleep perfectly." She crossed her legs as if just settling in to talk, but that movement caused her legs to brush lightly against each other. 

The man felt something electric inside him. Like a switch. The crossing of her legs happened again, but this time it was more obvious, without being aggressive or invasive, it was just a response.

"Good to know."

The sound of cutlery filled the space as if it were an excuse not to talk anymore, but what was left unsaid overflowed into the air.

Gabriel rested his elbow on the table and his face on one hand, as if distracted, but from that position, his knee touched Marinette's again. She didn't move away even a fraction. On the contrary. She responded with a slight movement of her foot, tracing a touch that seemed more accidental than intentional, except that it lasted a second longer than necessary.

Then he speared a piece of fruit and calmly brought it to his mouth, chewing with feigned patience. His impeccable face gave nothing away. Not even when the edge of the young woman's boot brushed against his leg again, this time a little higher than his ankle.

It was no accident.

Marinette wasn't looking at him. Her body remained straight, her face impassive, her gaze directed forward. But the gesture had been precise, calculated, a small invisible push.

The man swallowed the fruit and wiped his lips with his napkin. He avoided smiling; he shouldn't have done so, but he tilted his head slightly to one side, as if he were relaxing, when in fact he was preparing his counterattack. 

Without changing the expression on his face, Gabriel slowly extended his leg under the table and gently pressed his knee against hers.

The contact was very direct and deliberate.

Marinette didn't move. For a few seconds, neither of them did, they just breathed, pretending to have a completely normal breakfast while something else was brewing in the shadows.

"What do you think of today's menu?" he asked, without looking at her.

"Too sweet." Her voice was so neutral that it sounded like they were talking about the weather.

"And is that a bad thing?" 

"It depends. Sometimes sweetness is dangerous." The way she said it was too soft and calculated. 

Gabriel let out a barely audible sigh, as if considering his response. But what he did was increase the pressure with his knee. It was no longer a simple touch, but a constant rubbing, the kind you can't ignore without moving.

Marinette turned her ankle slightly, causing a subtle friction. If someone saw their faces on the cameras, they would see nothing more than two people sitting at a table, with nothing unusual or suspicious. But all hell was breaking loose under the table.

"You're right," he murmured, breaking the silence with a soft voice. "Sweet things are sometimes the ones that stay with you the longest. The ones that are hardest to forget." 

Marinette glanced at him. It was only for a second, giving him a fleeting glance, but there was fire in those eyes.

Then the man lowered one hand to his lap, pretending to adjust the napkin on his thigh. In reality, his fingers searched for and found the edge of Marinette's pants fabric, just at knee level. He didn't touch her directly. But the movement was so close that his intention was impossible to ignore.

The girl crossed her legs with a slight change in her posture, just enough to brush against him, too; it was an invitation or a challenge.

He continued eating, cutting a piece of bread, spreading butter on it, and bringing it to his mouth. Everything as if nothing had happened, as if his leg were not in constant contact with hers, as if his hand had not been inches away from caressing her.

"Can't you really eat?" he asked suddenly, without looking at her.

"I already did, and I'm on call," she replied calmly. 

"That seems unfair," he said, turning his face slightly toward her, his expression still neutral. "You sit there watching me eat, and you don't eat yourself." He lowered his fork slowly, as if thinking about something important. 

"I didn't insist on sitting with you," she replied, and for the first time, a slight smile appeared at the corner of her lips.

Gabriel couldn't help but smile back. It was minimal, controlled, and short-lived, but the game continued.

The game without rules, without prizes, in which there could be no witnesses.

Marinette slowly crossed her legs, a movement so fluid, so controlled, that it seemed unintentional, except that it was. 

As she did so, her knee touched the man's again, and this time it didn't move away, it stayed there, aligned with his, sharing the same invisible axis that united them from below while above they feigned indifference.

Gabriel didn't react immediately. He finished chewing another piece of bread, wiped his lips with his napkin, but under the table, his leg tensed. He felt that simple touch as if a spark had been lit on his skin.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked in a soft voice, which in other circumstances would have sounded like simple courtesy.

"It depends on which part you're asking about," she said, tilting her head slightly without looking at him directly.

Gabriel swallowed slowly. His fork remained suspended in the air for a few seconds. "The seat, of course," he replied, and his lips formed a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "What other part would I be talking about?" 

She didn't answer, but she moved her leg a little closer, just a few inches, until her thigh touched his. Now it was impossible to pretend they weren't touching; they were, and they knew it, purposely and deliberately.

The man dropped his napkin into his lap, as if it were something mechanical, but beneath the fabric, his fingers moved, as if searching for a better position, or perhaps an excuse. His hand rested on the edge of her thigh, his fingers relaxed, and one of them, just one, strayed toward her leg, touching it with his fingertip as if measuring the distance between what was allowed and what was forbidden.

"Does it bother you?" he asked, still without looking at her.

"What?" she replied with feigned naturalness.

"Sitting..." He moved his finger, as if indirectly telling her what he was actually asking her. 

"It depends on how long it lasts," she replied as calmly as if they were talking about something random. 

That made him smile, a small but real smile.

Marinette turned her face slightly toward him, as if observing him out of the corner of her eye. There was something like an amused smirk on her lips.

Her knees were still together, her legs barely leaning against each other. He kept his hand relaxed in his lap, but two of his fingers were already resting on Marinette's pants. As subtle as a sigh, but as intimate as an unspoken thought.

Gabriel held her gaze for a second. Then he looked down at his plate, cut a piece of fruit with precision, and brought it to his mouth. The fruit tasted like victory.

Marinette crossed her legs again, and the touch was broader this time, more brazen, but still under control. Everything they did was on the edge of visibility, never crossing the line, but the tension was growing. The temperature was rising, and neither of them wanted to give in.

Gabriel leaned forward slightly to drink some water. As he did so, his arm brushed lightly against hers, a touch so natural that it didn't even seem planned... but it was. Everything was. They were playing a game of breath without moving a piece. Playing at not touching each other while they couldn't stop touching each other.

Gabriel went back to eating, as if he weren't about to burn up inside.

Marinette leaned forward, as if to rest her elbows on the table, as if she simply wanted to get comfortable. Her movements were smooth, measured, studied so as not to arouse suspicion, but under the table, her left hand descended and landed on Gabriel's knee.

It was not a brush, but a direct and deliberate contact.

Gabriel froze completely. The fork he was about to bring to his mouth was suspended midway. The air stuck in his lungs, as if his body didn't know what to do with this unexpected gesture. The skin under his pants vibrated, as if the mere touch had electrified his nerves.

"Why did you stop eating, sir? Is something wrong?" she asked, innocently. Almost kindly. But her lips curved into a subtle, barely perceptible smile that was anything but innocent.

"Nothing. I was just... thinking." He swallowed.

Ridiculous. He didn't even believe the excuse himself, but he needed to say something. Something to distract the cameras' attention, to anchor him back to reality, because his mind was ready to go straight to hell with that hand on his leg.

Then she moved up just a little. Her hand slid as if her palm had found a natural path over his thigh. He put his fork down on the plate with more noise than he wanted to make. He couldn't move, and above all, he didn't want to move.

The man could only watch her out of the corner of his eye. Marinette kept her back straight, as if nothing were happening, without looking at him. As if her hand weren't advancing with a boldness that completely disarmed him.

Gabriel blinked, he took the glass of water to regain some composure, but when he drank, she moved her hand again, higher.

The water went down the wrong way. He coughed slightly, but a small drop ran down the corner of his lips. He quickly wiped it away, trying to maintain his dignity.

"Would you like some more water, sir?" 

Gabriel looked at her with a raised eyebrow, almost offended. Was this how she was going to play?

Marinette was still there, perfect, seemingly professional. But her hand, that unflinching hand that was pushing him to a mental limit, said it all. She was playing dirty, very dirty, and damn it, she was good at it.

He took a deep breath. All he had to do was lean back, and her touch would disappear. It was simple, but he didn't do it.

Gabriel took the glass again, trying to look casual, but as soon as he lifted it, the young woman moved up another centimeter. It was an almost imperceptible movement, but it was enough.

The glass trembled between his fingers; she was torturing him, and he didn't want her to stop.

"How far are you going to go...?" he whispered, barely moving his lips, like a thought out loud that only she could hear.

The girl didn't answer, but her hand didn't retreat, and just when Gabriel thought he would completely lose his composure, Renaud's voice broke the moment. 

"Excuse me, sir." 

The spell was broken.

Marinette withdrew her hand with deadly elegance, as if she had only been adjusting the tablecloth on her lap. They both straightened up at the same time. Legs apart, backs straight, and marble expressions.

"Officer Nooroo is here to see you. He wishes to speak with you," Renaud reported.

"Now?" he replied, without looking at Marinette.

"I can ask him to wait if you like, sir." 

Gabriel took a deep breath. He looked at his plate; he hadn't finished his meal yet.

"All right. I'll see him."

He rose calmly. Too calmly. Because inside, everything was still burning. Fortunately, his legs still responded. But it was clear that his mind was no longer on breakfast or the officer waiting.

As he walked away, he could think of only one thing. If Marinette wanted to play dirty, he was going to get even dirtier.

 

---

 

Officer Nooroo was talking, but Gabriel wasn't listening. Or rather, he wasn't paying attention. His gaze was fixed on his knee, right where Marinette had placed her hand minutes earlier.

He could still feel it. The warmth of her palm was still there, as if his skin had absorbed that contact. A subtle burning sensation, a tingling that wouldn't go away. His entire leg seemed to react to the memory, to the pressure, to the boldness of her fingers. Why couldn't he stop feeling it?

As if that weren't torture enough, the man turned his head slightly, glancing quickly at the young woman.

Marinette was standing a few feet away, back in her place, cold and motionless, as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't ignited his body and mind with a simple gesture under the table.

Gabriel barely turned his face forward, biting the inside of his cheek. She really was cruel.

"Sir?" The voice startled him.

Nooroo was staring directly at him, waiting for an answer that didn't exist.

"Sorry." He shifted in his seat, as if that would help him gather his thoughts. "I have too much work to do because of all this incompetence."

The comment was sharp, direct, and unfiltered, but Nooroo didn't flinch. He was probably used to it.

"I was asking if you have more than one person who might want to harm you."

"Do you want a list?" He snorted, looking down.

"Someone can't climb that wall alone," Nooroo continued, without losing his cool. "It's obvious that there are more people involved, and not only that, but one of them must be trained. Climbing, attacking, and disappearing in seconds is not something just anyone can do."

"I see." He crossed his arms. His leg still burned inside. "Do you want me to tell you if there's someone who hates me and also goes to the gym?" 

"They must at least be in good physical condition," Nooroo said. "Even if they helped him climb up, not just anyone can climb down like that. There's more than one attacker." 

The certainty in his words made it clear that he wasn't speculating; he had already determined it and had come to that conclusion.

Gabriel looked away for a second more toward Marinette, not out of suspicion, but out of frustration, because she was there, with that same expression as always, so seemingly neutral, and he still felt her damn hand engraved on his skin.

"I can't think of anyone with those characteristics," he finally replied. "What's next? That there's a secret club of fit people who want to kill me?" 

"This isn't funny, sir." 

"I never said it was." 

"Are you sure your nephew isn't involved?" Nooroo frowned, serious.

The silence immediately became tense.

"I read a little about him," Nooroo continued. "His record is impressive: intelligent, fit, skilled, and he's already managed to get in here once. It would be unwise not to consider him a possibility." 

Gabriel's eyes hardened, as if they were suddenly rich. 

"His record also mentions that he doesn't know how to work in a team," he said sharply. "He's terrible at it, and I already told you, if he wanted to get in again, he would do it without help. Without any effort and, above all, without leaving a trace." 

"It's just an angle we need to consider," Nooroo said, looking down at his notes.

"Then look elsewhere," Gabriel said with a clear warning in his tone. "I advise you not to touch him. Not with an order, not with a theory, not with a suspicion." 

A tense silence filled the room for a few seconds. Gabriel leaned back in his seat, finally taking control of the scene, but in his mind, Nooroo's words were just a buzz. Because his whole body was still focused on one question: How far would Marinette have gone if they hadn't interrupted her?

"Why so much protection for your nephew?" Nooroo interrupted with a calmness that seemed more like provocation. 

"Do you think that's protection?" he asked, with a sharp half-smile. "You should reconsider." 

"Or are you afraid of him?" 

The comment not only irritates him. It enrages him. Gabriel stands up abruptly, his expression cooling like steel, his gaze becoming direct and threatening, like a weight on the officer.

"I could kill my nephew with a snap of my fingers," he spat out each word sharply. "I'm not afraid of him."

Nooroo doesn't flinch, but his jaw tightens. "Then why don't you want us to suspect him? Why don't you even want us to bother him? It's as if you're afraid we're going to come after him."

"I already told you," he replied with the same intensity. "If Felix wanted to, I'd already be dead." 

Nooroo looked at him, trying to read between the lines. There was uncertainty in Gabriel, but there was also certainty, a certainty that chilled him to the bone.

"It'll be more complicated than," he crossed his arms. "Looking for several people who are trying to kill him..." 

"Well..." He interrupted him, turning slightly. "That's your job, isn't it?" 

"Of course," the officer replied, a little more controlled. "I'll take care of that." 

"Is that all, officer?" 

"That's all. But I recommend you be more careful. We don't know how many there are. It never hurts to be cautious." 

"I have no reason to fear," he replied without looking at him. "After all, you'll take care of it, isn't that what you just said?" 

Nooroo stood still for a few seconds. Inside, he felt that this case was not only complex because of the unknown attackers. Gabriel himself was a difficult tangle to unravel.

"Sure," Nooroo said. "I thought it prudent to warn you, but I must go now. See you soon, Mr. Agreste." 

"Goodbye, officer." 

They both said goodbye formally, very stiffly and without a hint of cordiality.

As he heads for the office exit, Nooroo turns to Renaud, and they both nod slightly with respect and a cordial gesture of the head.

"Thank you for your attention." 

"Thank you for keeping us informed," Renaud replied kindly, as always, but something in his posture indicates that he is also measuring his words, being careful with his manners. Everyone does that when they are around Gabriel.

Before taking the last step toward the exit, Nooroo turned his face toward the young woman sitting in the corner.

Everything seemed normal; she was stiff, silent, and attentive, but what were those looks they had exchanged?

Throughout the conversation, the officer had noticed that subtle flow of glances between them. They weren't constant or obvious, but they were there, filled with something he couldn't quite identify.

Unique. Yes. That was the word.

And she, especially she, didn't take her eyes off Gabriel for a second, not to correct him, not to anticipate a strange movement, not even as a bodyguard. It was something else.

Nooroo sighed inwardly. Why couldn't he read minds? Everything would be so much easier. So he left without further ado, but a new uneasiness gnawed at the base of his skull.

 

---

 

Gabriel couldn't continue his work in peace, the fury continued to burn in his skin, like an electric current pulsing under his shirt. Rather than giving him good news, the officer only made him angry, stirring every fiber of his body as if he had dug into an already open wound. 

What damn fault was it of his that there were several attackers? And as if he knew who they were, if he had any idea, he would have said so before, as if he liked being locked up in his own house like a prisoner in his own glass cage.

But it seems that the police are so incompetent that he also had to do their damn job. The man felt the pressure in his hands, his fists clenched, he could feel his own nails digging into his skin, as if he wanted to pierce it, his teeth were grinding, his jaw was tense, and he could even tell that a grimace of disgust was distorting his face. He must have looked terrible, broken, like a bomb seconds away from exploding.

Until a voice called him back.

"Sir?" Marinette's voice, confident but with a hint of concern, interrupted the furious spiral he had fallen into.

He turned to look at her and it was as if someone had shaken him by the shoulders. Gabriel came back to reality. He had forgotten that he was in his office, forgotten that she was still there, as present as ever. Perhaps the young woman had also noticed it, that change in him, that silent collapse that was about to overflow.

"Yes. It's nothing," he replied, although his voice sounded hoarser than usual, almost as if he were speaking out of habit.

And really, it shouldn't be anything. He was having such a good time with Marinette until the officer's damn intrusion, until everything cooled down and his bad mood returned like an invisible punch. Was he going to let that idiot ruin everything? He almost felt stupid for allowing it. Nooroo could go to hell, along with the idiots who were trying to kill him.

Now that he remembered, he was going to play dirty. He had a plan, a game in progress, and it all went to hell because of that uniformed imbecile.

But it wasn't too late. The changing of the guard was still a long way off, and Marinette was still there, at his disposal. He just had to find a way.

Gabriel had to be smart. Not just for Marinette, but also for the cameras. The damn cameras that see everything.

Until he comes up with an excuse. One that sounds convincing, absurd but functional, something credible enough not to arouse suspicion. 

"I'm not feeling well. Can you accompany me to my room? I feel weak." 

"Would you like me to call a doctor?" 

"No. The officer's visit didn't sit well with me. I want to be in my room." 

"Okay, let's go."

Gabriel avoids looking happy or healthy, but it worked. An illness is also believable, or at least feeling angry at an idiot, but now they will go to the only place without cameras. The only corner where they can be themselves.

The man stepped down from the podium and walked out of the office, trying to look dejected along the way, as if the whole thing affected him more than it actually did.

When he reached his room, he felt like other times, but different. There was a different electricity, more carnal and dangerous. It was like how prey feels when it senses danger, when the predator is about to attack.

He entered first and she followed; Marinette had only just stepped inside when the door slammed shut behind her, like a sharp heartbeat sealing off the outside world. Gabriel closed it with his hands in a decisive movement, and at the same time, he enclosed her in his arms, his body creating a cage around Marinette's.

But she didn't even have time to react to that, because Gabriel immediately pressed his lips against hers without thinking.

It was as if time had shattered into a thousand pieces and the world had stopped spinning. There were no sounds, no threats, no cameras, no walls. Only the brutal collision of two mouths that had been searching for each other for too long.

The girl barely had time to breathe before she felt him on top of her, her lips colliding with his with a slight jolt, as if the world tilted back a little, as if the room was spinning and suddenly only Gabriel's lips existed, his warmth, his breath mixed with hers.

The contact was so abrupt that her heart skipped a beat. The kiss had that dangerous mixture of urgency and prohibition, but above all, it had intention. The clash of their mouths was not gentle, it was direct, decisive, as if everything she had been resisting had been released at once.

The pressure of his body against the door was warm, she could feel his chest rising and falling faster, how his lips weren't just looking to kiss her, but to make sure she felt everything, and she did. Gabriel's mouth was soft, and the way it fit hers felt like a new language she already knew.

Marinette didn't move, not yet, but she didn't push him away either. Her body was stiff at first, surprised by the suddenness of it, but then it relaxed as if something inside her had broken and let go, as if that kiss, unexpected and direct, had touched a part of her that she had avoided looking at for days.

The tension in her arms gave way first. Then her fingers, which trembled slightly, as if hesitating between rising to hold him or letting themselves fall. The heat of the man's mouth invaded everything, to the edge of her stomach, to the base of her spine, and yet there was not a word between them, only breaths stolen in the exchange.

Gabriel kept his eyes closed, focused, as if kissing her were some kind of religious act, his lips molding to hers with unexpected slowness, as if he wanted to savor her rather than claim her. The first impulse had passed, but not the need.

Marinette then slowly raised her hands, as if moving in slow motion. And when her fingers touched his forearms, it was not to push him away, but to hold on.

Her fingers clung to Gabriel's jacket, just at chest level, barely pulling on the fabric, as if the slightest movement were necessary to say, here I am, I'm not moving. She responded, and that was the worst and best part.

The man didn't stop kissing her. Not even when one of his arms slid down the door until it wrapped around the young woman's waist, pulling her toward him, pressing her against his body without restraint. This time there was no need to hold back. Not here, not now. Not when they were finally alone again.

The kiss slowed then, becoming more intense, less impetuous but deeper. They weren't just touching with their lips, they were exploring each other. Gabriel tilted his head slightly, finding a better angle, and their tongues met in such an intimate touch that Marinette feared she would lose her balance.

A slight sigh escaped her, barely a breath against the man's mouth. He felt it as a reward, as a partial surrender, and for a moment, he dared to smile against her lips, but he didn't pull away. Neither did she want him to.

There they were again, without words, without excuses, just feeling, their pulses in sync, their breaths shared. Their mouths, found together, were a battlefield where neither sought to win, but both knew that losing was inevitable.

Their mouths devoured each other as if there were no tomorrow, as if they hadn't kissed hours ago, as if time didn't exist, as if it didn't matter that they both knew this was forbidden.

The kiss was voracious, fiery, untamable. Neither asked for permission anymore; they just took what they wanted, hungrily, needily, with the urgency of someone who had held back for too long.

Their lips pressed together with such force that they hurt, and yet he didn't stop. Gabriel's tongue invaded, explored, and played with hers as if he had something to prove, as if with every touch, every twist and turn, they were fighting for power.

And Marinette was not far behind. She responded with the same intensity, the same desire, and at times with a gentleness that left him trembling.

The kiss was wet, wet with shared saliva, mixed breaths, and moans held back against each other's mouths. Their lips collided, slid, molded, opened, and trapped. Their tongues sought each other again and again as if they couldn't be separated, and laughter, gasps, barely contained sounds slipped between their teeth.

It was indecent, addictive, and perfect.

And yet Gabriel didn't forget his priority: dirty play.

The young woman had provoked him with that daring hand during breakfast, as if his body were her game board, as if she were dictating the rules. But the man had no intention of letting her win so easily, not this time.

The problem was that damn kiss was too good, too much.

The taste of Marinette was driving him crazy. The warmth of her tongue, the way her fingers intertwined behind his neck, and how she pressed herself against him with such boldness had him on the verge of losing control, but then something on his lips tickled him.

A vibrant, electric tingling, as if his mouth were burning inside, as if so much contact had ignited him too much, yet despite that, he didn't want to pull away.

Gabriel only pulled away for a second, barely a blink between kisses, his breath heavy and his forehead brushing against hers.

"So what?" he murmured, his voice deep, broken by their shared breath. "Don't you dare repeat what you said this morning?" 

"You mean when you stopped eating because of me?" she asked, with such blatant mockery that he had to stifle a laugh.

Gabriel leaned in again, barely brushing her lower lip, as if his mouth was still begging her. "You were playing dirty," he murmured, almost panting against her. "Touching me as if nothing had happened. Pretending to be innocent while you mocked me." He barely brushed her mouth again. "You know what's worse?" He continued. "That you didn't do anything... and yet I could barely stand." 

Marinette let out a giggle that seemed to drag from her throat, and she did it, she moved her hand again. Her palm slid calmly, boldly, until it reached exactly where it had left off at breakfast, but this time, a little higher, clearer, and more direct.

The man stood completely still. The contact was warm, burning, and so sudden that he felt the air stop in his lungs.

The young woman's hand was on his thigh, and the worst part was that he didn't move it away.

She, for her part, brought her lips closer to his to continue the kiss, but something changed. Gabriel didn't move. He remained completely still, his lips parted, his breath caught, his body rigid beneath his expensive clothes, and she noticed it immediately. It wasn't indifference, it was nervousness.

Her attempt at a counterattack hadn't worked. He, who wanted to humiliate her with his provocation, had ended up being the vulnerable one.

Marinette barely curved her lips into a mocking smile, tilting her head slightly. "Isn't this what you wanted?" she asked in the lightest, almost innocent tone. 

The blow was direct.

The man swallowed hard, but if one thing was clear, it was that he couldn't let her win completely. So, slowly, as if recovering from an impact, he brought his mouth close to her ear.

"You can touch it... If you want." His voice was deep, slow, heavy with smoke and desire. A whisper as raspy as it was sensual. 

And then it was the girl who froze. For a moment, the temperature of her body seemed to vanish down her spine, as if something invisible were running down her back.

The game had become tense. Tense enough that neither of them knew anymore whether they were playing, teasing, or truly challenging each other.

Marinette didn't move her hand. She didn't withdraw it; it was firmly in place, but he had put her up against the verbal wall, and she wasn't good at that.

The young woman raised an eyebrow and smiled again, with that expression that was half mockery, half threat. "What if I do?"

The man didn't move away, he just stared at her from so close that their noses were almost touching, his dark, fiery eyes shining with a mixture of arrogance and doubt.

"So we just confirmed that you already wanted to do it before," he replied, barely moving his lips. "Since this morning." 

Marinette narrowed her eyes, not because she doubted him, but because the provocation was well placed and she wasn't one to leave a challenge half done.

"Are you so sure?" she murmured.

"Are you going to deny it?" he replied, his tone more serious, as if trying to regain the control he no longer had.

The young woman said no more. Instead, she slowly slid her hand up, and this time she didn't stop. Her hand rose only a few inches, but it was enough to make Gabriel stop breathing.

He froze, still and tense, his body, which had been relaxed and confident before, now seemed like stone. The muscles in his jaw stood out. His shoulders rose, and most notably, his eyes, which always seemed ready to retort, were speechless.

Marinette had done it, she had touched him, and not like before, now it was real, she placed her hand right on top of his penis, fortunately that intimate part was still asleep or he wouldn't have known what to do, she had her hand on his penis. 

The teasing had turned into contact, a game turned into a subtle assault, and he didn't know what to do.

Because it was all part of a game. A dirty game. But he didn't expect her to dare, not in this situation and not for real.

She knew he wasn't expecting that, she knew perfectly well that she had taken his breath away, and she also knew that now, he was the one who didn't know what to do.

But perhaps what Marinette wasn't doing was what made the situation tense, because her hand was only superficially placed there, motionless, without caressing, without touching, just resting on his penis, and that was much worse.

Gabriel felt it with every fiber, with every nerve ending on fire, the warmth of her palm a constant reminder of her boldness and her silence. Why wasn't she moving? Why wasn't she doing anything else? It was driving him crazy.

Part of him wanted more, he wanted her hand to move up, he wanted the game to go to hell, but another part of him was scared, he was afraid that the young woman would actually do it, he was afraid that the situation would get out of control, or worse... that Marinette would regret it and leave in a rage.

What would be worse? For her to touch him or for her to leave it at that?

Gabriel held his breath longer than he should have and thought, he had to keep the game going, but without crossing that thin line.

So, regaining some control, he lowered his head, tilting it toward her ear. "Do you feel it?" he murmured slowly. 

"I've felt better ones." She didn't even blink.

It was a dagger, a direct cut to the ego, without anesthesia or consideration; the man blinked, between surprise and suppressed laughter.

Marinette's tongue, so bold and precise, was a damn sharp weapon, she knew it perfectly well. 

"I thought it would be more... impressive, coming from someone with such an air of superiority," she continued. 

Gabriel let out a short, deep, rough laugh, but it was genuine; he was enjoying this more than he should have been.

"You're playing with something that could overwhelm you," he said quietly, still smiling. "Maybe you don't want to see how far you can take this." 

Marinette raised her eyebrows. She didn't withdraw her hand; in fact, she pressed it down slightly, squeezing his penis lightly. It was a movement as subtle as it was devastating.

"What if I do?" she whispered calmly, venomously.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes, a contained fire burning within him. "You could be inviting me into something you won't be able to get out of later." 

"Is that a threat?" 

"No. A warning." 

"Warnings never stopped me," she replied without losing an ounce of her boldness. 

That exchange was dynamite. One more touch, one more word, and the room would explode.

"Do you know what you're doing, Marinette?" He leaned in a little closer, his voice vibrating against her skin. 

"Of course I do," she smiled. "Do you?" she added with the same defiant expression. 

Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment. The tension was as delicious as it was unbearable. He was losing, and he loved it.

"If you want something..." He whispered, his tone more sensual than ever. "All you have to do is ask." 

The young woman didn't move, she didn't look down, she just stared directly into his eyes, like someone about to devour their opponent.

"I've never asked for anything," she replied, "and I don't intend to start now." 

The man didn't know if that was a warning or a promise. He only knew that he was completely at her mercy. Gabriel was completely lost, and he knew it. No move could reverse the situation, and nothing he could say would restore his dominance.

He had been defeated by her, and the worst or best part was that he loved it.

Touching her now would be just a cheap imitation, as if he were desperate, and yes, he was. But he wasn't going to give her any more free victories.

Surrender? Walk away? Or say it with his body, without words? He decided on the only thing he could do.

Gabriel brought his lips close to Marinette's and kissed her. It wasn't like the previous ones; there was no anger, no urgency, no fire. It was a soft kiss, a surrender. Without saying it clearly, the kiss said it all: she had won, she had defeated him, and he liked it.

The girl understood. She knew. For the first time in the whole scene, she withdrew her hand herself. Perhaps she thought it was torture or that it was enough, but he didn't allow it.

The man took her wrist carefully, without roughness, and prevented her from pulling away. He didn't squeeze too hard, he just held her against his penis. He didn't want to lose that warmth, that touch, that connection.

As their lips met again, the kiss changed tempo, becoming slow, calm, and deep, as if they could finally taste and feel each other. These were not kisses of conquest or domination. They were kisses of surrender.

Gabriel did not move his hands; he did not dare. He was burning up, and the man could feel his sweaty, trembling palms, as if any movement could break the balance.

But Marinette did something else, she pressed again, subtly but forcefully. The shock that ran through Gabriel's body was immediate. From the exact point of contact, a current rose up his spine and exploded in his stomach.

He pulled away from the kiss for just a second, panting, "No... don't do that." 

The young woman smiled, cruel, charming, and poisonous. 

"This?" she asked innocently, applying just that exact pressure to his penis again. 

"My body... is going to react, Marinette," he murmured hoarsely, as if it were a warning, as if he were begging for mercy before losing control.

She understood what he meant; she could even feel spasms beneath her palms, so she teased him a little.

"What a convenient excuse," she whispered, amused.

But after teasing him, she finally loosened her grip and left his penis alone. Gabriel exhaled slowly, too slowly, as if he had just survived a minefield.

The man rested his forehead against hers, his lips still brushing against hers. 

"Thank you," he whispered, almost gratefully. 

The young woman looked at him, for the first time in the whole scene, without mockery, without sarcasm. She decided to give him back a little dignity. After all, it wasn't every day that one had the privilege of humiliating someone like Gabriel, and even less so with such pleasure. 

So she looked him straight in the eye with a small, almost invisible smile, but one full of meaning. 

"Well... at least it's not as small as I implied." 

Gabriel let out a rough laugh, muffled between his teeth. "Don't show mercy now," he said with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement.

Although he needed it. That comment, though mocking, restored some of his wounded ego.

The man still had that crooked smile on his lips when he gently raised one of his hands, almost as if the gesture were not his own, and brought it to Marinette's face.

His fingers touched her with a strange slowness, as if he didn't quite know how to do it or if he had permission, even though he had kissed her as if she belonged to him. He brushed her cheek with his thumb, with that silent touch that said much more than any words could articulate. 

"It's not mercy," she said quietly.

"It's... a very cruel way to save my ego," he admitted. 

Marinette didn't respond, but for a second she let her face lean toward that hand, as if receiving something she hadn't allowed herself to desire. That gesture, so small and involuntary, broke down an invisible barrier between them.

The game didn't disappear, but it became more human, and although neither of them could clearly name it, there was tenderness there too.

An intense, private, intimate tenderness, like the touch of a tongue or the warmth of a misplaced hand, but the young woman was the first to return to reality.

"I have to go back," she said softly, but with a certain firmness.

She turned her face away slightly, not to avoid him, but to make it clear that this little moment had to end.

The man slowly lowered his hand; neither of them knew how much time had passed. It was easy to lose track when the game was so addictive. 

"How long have we been here?" he asked, more to himself than to her.

"I don't know. But Renaud hasn't said anything. I guess your excuse was good," she replied, subtly adjusting her clothes, as if preparing her image as an inflexible guard.

Gabriel nodded, knowing she was right; the whole house was full of eyes, footsteps, structures that did not forgive mistakes, and if someone approached, if someone opened that door...

The disaster would be immediate. 

"All right," he relented. And this time there was no sarcasm. Just acceptance. As if ending this moment was as inevitable as it was painful.

Marinette looked at him one last time, and without needing words, they both moved a little closer. It was Gabriel who sought her lips, but this time it was different. It wasn't a kiss of fire, or revenge, or even playfulness. It was closure.

A brief kiss, yes, but with everything burning beneath the surface.

"Are you going to go out or stay hidden?" she asked as they separated. 

"I'd better stay here for the rest of the day," he said with a soft, almost hoarse laugh. 

"Why's that? Did what the officer said really bother you?"

"Let's just say there are... parts of me that are still burning," he replied with a slight gesture toward his pants, needing to say no more.

"Ah," she murmured, amused. 

"Besides, once your guard duty is over, everything gets boring." 

Marinette didn't respond with mockery, she just nodded.

"But I really have to go now." 

And without further ado, Gabriel stepped away from the door, backing away. He didn't say goodbye; it wasn't necessary. 

Marinette opened the door without hesitation, as if nothing had happened. The same Marinette as always, and she disappeared through the door without further ado. 

The man felt his legs tense, his lips numb, his palms burning. Nothing had gone as he had planned. He had been humiliated, disarmed, and yet he couldn't remember the last time he had enjoyed himself so much.

Marinette could be as cold as she was fiery, and for Gabriel, that was a lethal and delicious combination.

How many sides did she have? How many versions of Marinette were left to discover?

He wanted them all, absolutely all of them.

Notes:

Don't you love foreplay?

Because Gabriel does. I know where we all want to end up, but be patient, let's play a little first.

It will definitely be difficult for Gabriel and Marinette to keep whatever they have afloat in a house full of cameras, roommates, and nosy police, but there's one detail you're missing.

I really appreciate your comments. Believe me, I try to update as soon as possible. Why do I find these kinds of chapters so difficult? Who knows.

Thank you!

Chapter 15: Poison at your fingertips.

Summary:

Whatever Gabriel and Marinette have is on a grand scale, but lack of communication remains a major problem between them.

Gabriel spat the rest of the toothpaste into the marble sink, the hollow sound echoing in the silence of his bathroom. He rinsed his mouth with cold water, as if his whole body were on autopilot. When he took the towel and brought it to his face, the pressure on his lips was careful, almost gentle.

It was stupid, he knew, but he could still feel Marinette's lips on his. It wasn't the taste or the temperature; it was like a phantom impression, a sensation that lingered like an invisible burn.

The man stood there for another second, in front of the mirror, looking at himself. He looked somewhere between disheveled and defeated. Not on the outside, not really, it was something in his eyes.

The trace left by the immediate absence of what had been so close just a few hours ago.

Touching the sky... and then the mud. That was a good way to describe the day.

It had been an explosion, a private fire, and now the silence and distance were unbearable.

Gabriel left the bathroom barefoot, his footsteps soft on the cold floor. The darkness in his room was not total, but enough for the glow from outside to call to him. He approached the window, as if by reflex.

He opened it, as if deep down he hoped to find Marinette, hanging from the frame with one hand, with that insolent smile and that "I came because I wanted to" air about her. But there was no one there, only the night breeze and the emptiness of the garden. It was too dark to see anything.

And yet there he was, like an idiot, waiting for her.

Gabriel rested his elbows on the frame and let his weight fall on his forearms. How much longer could he take this? Living with her. Having her close and at the same time, not having her at all.

So close, so untouchable.

He wondered if she was still awake, if perhaps she was thinking of him as he was thinking of her. Did she have a cell phone? Of course, she must have one; everyone had one, but he had never seen her with one.

And yet he had held the young woman in his arms, against his chest, on his lap, and he had never felt the metallic weight of a device, but he did know that she carried a weapon, and he had never felt that.

Marinette was a mystery even to the touch.

Perhaps she had her cell phone hidden in the same way as everything else she hid from him.

Then he realized how ridiculous it was not to have asked for it before, a simple text message, a call, something to bridge that absurd distance under the same roof.

If only...

His eyes focused again on the garden. It was too dark and quite high, and yet, hadn't she done it? Climbing up there? Hiding under the cover of night and appearing as if she weighed nothing, as if danger didn't exist?

But he wasn't Marinette. He couldn't do the same, and he couldn't ask her to. Would it be appropriate? Would it be fair?

It was the strangest dilemma in the world. They were in the same house, but there was more distance between them than between two cities.

Gabriel clenched his teeth. He wanted to talk to her, to see her, and not as part of his shift or part of protocol, but just as two people. 

But no way could happen. It was impossible, and yet every fiber of his being screamed at him to find a way.

Defeated, the man closed the window with a slight push. The sharp click of the lock sounded like a final judgment. It was late, and of course Marinette wasn't going to show up. There were no promises, no silent agreements, only his desire and his absurd longing.

He didn't want her to come into his room to repeat anything; he just wanted to see her there, hanging from the frame, like an insolent shadow. 

Gabriel slowly moved away, the mattress yielding under his weight as he let himself fall onto the bed. The cold sheets enveloped him, but they couldn't extinguish the persistent heat burning on his skin.

The touch of the girl still throbbed on his skin, not as a simple memory, but as a fire branded with iron, like a damn need.

He remembers it, and more precisely, the last thing she did, that caress, that exact pressure, a boldness he hadn't expected, a move that left him completely defenseless.

His body responds on its own, slowly moving his hand under the sheet, straight to the exact spot where Marinette had placed hers, and he applies the same pressure, the same point, but nothing happens.

There is no current, no electricity, no fire, only his own skin, his own hand, and his own disappointment.

He let out a sigh and immediately withdrew his hand, as if he had been burned by shame. What was he doing? He covered his eyes with his forearm and let out a bitter exhalation, which borders on laughter but is stifled before it can escape.

It's pathetic, indecent, even.

It wasn't desire that tortured him, it was her desire, Marinette's, that dug into his skin, and he couldn't bear not knowing if she thought about him too, if she felt something similar.

Enough was enough.

The man couldn't go on with this damn silence between them. If he couldn't have her alone, if he couldn't steal more minutes with her in empty rooms, at least he would have her in words.

Gabriel would find a way to get her number, no matter how, but he would do it discreetly, calculatingly, and carefully.

But he would do it, because he didn't want to continue sleeping with this feeling of emptiness. After all, he wanted to talk to her, write to her, look for her. After all, if he didn't, this desire in his chest would devour him.

Gabriel reached out his arm, turned off the lamp on the nightstand, and the room fell into a thick, warm darkness. In that darkness, he closed his eyes.

As soon as he fell asleep, he would see her again.

 

---

 

Gabriel got ready earlier than usual again, and as he got ready, he gathered his courage. How could he ask Marinette for her number? He was at a clear disadvantage. When he was much younger, asking for someone's number wasn't so normal, especially for someone of his status. 

Contrary to what everyone thinks, he didn't have much money when he was young, so having a phone was even more complicated. With his wife, for example, it wasn't really necessary; they were forbidden to go out, so he had to be resourceful, see her in secret, send messages, even send Harry to deliver a message in the middle of the rain, on foot and without being noticed.

Even when cell phones became commonplace, he never needed them. He was already with Emilie, and then, well... after that, if he needed a number, he just had to ask Nathalie and that was it. Problem solved.

But now there was no assistant. There were no messages. There was only the young woman with her steely temperament, with her way of talking to him as if he were any other man on the planet, with that mocking mouth and those eyes that ignited him as if they were liquid gasoline.

And of course, there were the cameras, the other bodyguards, and the rules. As a young man, he had overcome much worse obstacles, so this should be easier, right?

When the man was ready, he went out with everything prepared. His fist was clenched, but not out of anger or rigidity. In the center of his hand, he carried a small, rectangular piece of paper, folded as if it contained a secret. His number. Written in his own handwriting. He had done it twice, because the first time, he was shaking.

As he left, like every morning, Marinette was there, motionless, with that expression that disarmed him as elegantly as it did violently.

"Good morning," he greeted her, his voice measured, his tone calm. Only the tremor in his stomach betrayed that this was no ordinary morning.

"Good morning, sir," she replied without a hint of hesitation.

They both walked to the dining room. Everything seemed normal, as it always should. The distance between them was the same. Their steps were synchronized. But Gabriel felt twice as hot as any other day, and not because of the weather.

Once inside the dining room, they both took their seats. The room smelled of fresh coffee and toast. Gabriel pretended to look closely at his breakfast, as if analyzing the layout of the cutlery. But in reality, he was just waiting for the right moment.

The man moved his chair a little closer to Marinette with an almost imperceptible movement, barely audible by the slight rubbing of the chair against the floor, just a few inches, nothing that a camera would consider suspicious, just enough for his hand to reach more easily.

While the young woman stared straight ahead, like a statue, her eyes unmoving, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and brushed the edge of the paper with his fingertips. It was slightly warm from the heat of his body. He slid it out carefully and held it against his thigh, protecting it with his palm.

Gabriel tapped her knee lightly with the paper in his hands, a silent signal, a simple gesture. If Marinette took it, his mission would be complete, the plan accomplished. But far from what he had imagined, Marinette pushed her knee against his, pressing right against the back of his hand.

For a moment, he stood still, staring at the plate. The same thing again? Not that he was complaining, the memory of their games still burned his skin, but that wasn't the goal today.

She thought he wanted to play again. That he wanted another round of rubbing and teasing under the table. But he didn't. Not this time.

He just wanted her to take the paper. He felt like an idiot, an elegant idiot, of course, but an idiot nonetheless. Maybe he should tell her, maybe he should take a little more risk.

So, without taking his eyes off his cup, he reached out with his free hand, lifted it carefully, and brought it to his mouth, pretending to take a sip, whispering through his teeth in a barely audible tone. 

"Take the paper from my hand."

Gabriel thought he had been clear, precise, and strategic. He felt Marinette's slight movement and thought, with a small spark of victory, that she had understood. Until...

"Excuse me, I didn't understand what you said." 

The man closed his eyes for half a second. Seriously? She wasn't playing games. He knew it from her tone, from her genuine confusion. She hadn't understood him.

And asking her to come closer so he could repeat himself was impossible. It would be too obvious. He couldn't risk it, not with the cameras there and the other guards aware of everything.

Gabriel tried again, lowering his hand once more, now barely touching the fabric of his pants with the edge of the paper, insistent, as if that would give her a clue. But Marinette, persistent in her interpretation, brushed her leg against his again, with that playful, almost mischievous movement that had caused him so much trouble the day before.

He wanted to sigh in frustration, but he held back. Lifting the paper off the table was tempting, but it would also be suicide. The camera would see him; one false move, and it would all be over.

And worst of all was what they had never dared to say out loud: What would happen if they were discovered? Would she be fired? Would they change her shift? Would they forbid him from seeing her?

The thought turned his stomach. And if that happened, he would only have himself to blame, so he swallowed hard, composed himself, and thought. His eyes narrowed. A plan began to take shape.

Gabriel adjusted his posture, picked up his fork, pretending to check the texture of whatever was on his plate, and without looking at the young woman, he decided to speak to her.

"I was wondering if... You remember the number for the security center. In case an emergency happens outside of my normal hours." 

Marinette turned her face just a little, just a millimeter, and looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Do you want me to remind you of the number for the center?" She asked as if she still didn't quite understand.

Gabriel smiled inwardly. That voice. That well-rehearsed innocence. He knew perfectly well that she was testing the waters, but she wasn't faking it; she was genuinely confused. 

"Doesn't your assistant have that number? I'm sorry, I can't help you." 

It was like an elegant slap in the face. Not a grimace, not a double entendre, just concrete, effective words, devastatingly misinterpreted.

That made it clear that Marinette hadn't understood the hint, and he, well, he didn't blame her. It was a terrible move. He knew it. His hint had been so subtle, so convoluted, that even he was lost in what he meant.

A frustrated sigh caught in his throat; nothing seemed to work. His attempt at clandestine contact, the covert strategy under the table, the whisper with the cup, everything had resulted in a monumental disaster.

So he did the only thing he could do without arousing suspicion: he removed his hand, put the paper in his jacket's inside pocket, and pretended everything was normal.

He didn't even look at Marinette. He didn't want to see the echo of his failure on her face, and so as not to look like a complete idiot, he ended the conversation himself. 

"You're right... Thanks for the suggestion." 

The young woman, completely oblivious to all his previous attempts, nodded slightly.

"You're welcome, sir," she replied in a soft, professional tone, as if they were only talking about work, which, of course, was what they were doing.

Inside, the man wanted to bang his head against the table.

Finally, Gabriel focused on his breakfast, at least so he wouldn't look like a defeated man. He began to eat, although every bite tasted like salted defeat. 

But he wasn't willing to give up. If everything had turned out to be a huge failure, at least he could get something out of it, so without saying anything, and without even looking at her, he moved his leg discreetly and brought his knee closer to hers. 

The contact was electric. This time, Marinette responded, not with words, but by leaving her knee there, as if they were still playing.

Gabriel smiled inwardly as he chewed slowly. He may not have gotten her number, but he still had a game to win, and he wasn't going to stop playing.

 

---

 

Gabriel was in his office, and he was a little desperate. There was still a lot of time left in Marinette's shift, but he had already failed at breakfast, and for the moment, he couldn't think of anything better. 

He didn't want her shift to end and be cut off from her again. But how could he do it? There were those damn cameras, and he couldn't just tell her. 

He could make up some excuse to take Marinette back to her room and ask her, but wouldn't that seem strange? She had already been alone in her room several times, and he didn't want what had just begun to become suspicious.

But what could he do? The man looked up at the windows, as if the answer were there, and indeed, the answer was there.

The garden.

The garden was there, and most importantly, the cameras weren't close enough to pick up audio, unlike the rooms, where the noise was loud and clear. There was the solution.

Without thinking too much, driven by that impulse he knew so well, the impatience to have her close, to close the distance even a little, Gabriel got up from his lectern and walked straight to the door. The decision was made. He could feel the young woman's footsteps following him like a silent, close shadow.

It wasn't unusual for him to go out into the garden with Marinette. They had done it many times before, so it wouldn't raise any suspicions. The open air was his perfect excuse.

He descended the steps leading to the lawn with the confidence of someone who had everything under control, even though inside his heart was beating fast. Once downstairs, he sat on the bottom stone step and, for a few seconds, just watched the garden. He took a deep breath. The smell of damp earth, greenery, and freshly stirred wind filled the air.

There, he could always talk to Marinette. And there, she had always been herself.

"Do you have a cigarette?" he asked without looking directly at her, his gaze still fixed on the garden.

"You know I do, but you don't smoke," she replied with her usual irony. 

The man turned his face slightly toward her, with that half-smile he only used when he was planning something.

"You've seen me smoke too many times to say that." 

"You were the pretentious anti-smoker, remember?" she replied, crossing her arms.

"Are you going to give me one or not?" He raised only one eyebrow. 

Marinette exhaled softly, resigned or amused, or both. She reached into her jacket and took out her small cigarette case. He couldn't help wondering, as he always did when she took something out of that tight coat, where on earth she kept so many things.

Then she held out the case to him, with that same neutral expression she was so good at using to hide her intentions.

That's when Gabriel seized his chance. As he took the cigarette case, he held her hand at the same time. It was a simple, quick gesture, elegant in its execution. His fingers slid naturally across the bottom of her palm, and in the movement, he left a small folded piece of paper hidden there.

It was quick, precise, and at the same time imperceptible to any outside eye. Anyone watching would have thought he was just taking the pack carefully. But she felt it.

That piece of paper wasn't part of the pack. It was thin, warm, and soft. It didn't have the weight of cardboard or the sharp edge. And it still had the faint scent of Gabriel's cologne, which said too much.

She looked down for a split second. It was almost imperceptible. But enough.

"What's that?" she asked calmly, as if nothing had happened.

The young woman felt something being placed in her hand and was about to open it to see what it was, but he was quicker. As he lit his cigarette with a discreet lighter, he took advantage of the gesture to cover his lips naturally as he spoke.

"Don't look," he warned in a low voice, the cigarette between his fingers and his gaze fixed on the flame he had just lit.

Marinette raised an eyebrow, surprise crossing her face softly. "What's this about now?" she asked, still not opening her hand, not even moving.

Gabriel exhaled the smoke slowly, letting it dissipate to one side. "I think you're the first person I've given my number to without being asked." His tone was low, almost playful, though there was an underlying truth that betrayed him. 

"Your number?" She tilted her head, as if trying to catch him in his game.

"Are you going to say you don't want it? How will I know when you climb through that window?" He narrowed his eyes, feigning slight offense, almost amused.

The girl let out a soft exhalation, a mixture of suppressed laughter and disbelief. Her hand was still closed, but the warmth of the paper was still there, strangely intimate.

"You want me to call you? And stuff like that?" She asked in a neutral tone, as if it didn't quite fit with the image she had of him.

For some reason, that response made him feel younger. As if, for once, he were talking to someone older than him and not the other way around. It was absurd, but comforting.

"Well," he took another puff of smoke and let his guard down a little, "I can't make up excuses every day to take you to my room."

"I'm sure you have a few more ideas," she replied without hesitation, the mockery slipping elegantly into her words.

"I can't pretend to be a drunken idiot forever," he smiled sidelong, but didn't miss the opportunity to play along.

"You don't have to pretend," she said with cutting calmness.

Although she didn't say it cruelly, the phrase hit him like a small push to the chest. It didn't hurt, but it threw him off balance. 

"Don't you want it?" he asked cautiously, lowering his voice. 

Marinette looked at him, and for the first time in that conversation, her eyes weren't filled with irony. There was a moment of truth.

"It's not that," she replied calmly. "I just... never expected you to do something like this." 

The answer freed him. The tension dissipated almost immediately, as if a knot around his neck had been loosened. Marinette lowered her gaze slightly and subtly slipped the paper into the back pocket of her pants, without making a single obvious gesture. Natural, as if she were just getting comfortable.

"Did you come over to smoke just to give me your number?" she asked after a moment, a smile creeping into her voice.

"I don't have many options," he replied, looking back up. "There are spectators, besides. Did you see my pathetic attempt at breakfast?" he added.

Marinette let out a soft, light laugh, as if she couldn't help herself. "That was your attempt? No wonder you were acting so strange."

"And you're not very suspicious," he frowned slightly, just to hold onto the paper.

"How was I supposed to know?" she replied, shrugging slightly. "You were acting like you always do. You're weird in general."

"You were too busy flirting with me to notice," he chuckled briefly, between clenched teeth.

The accusation hung in the air. It wasn't serious, but it wasn't a simple joke either. The young woman didn't respond immediately, but she didn't deny it either. She looked at him with that half-smile that never gave away her true intentions, and she looked away, as if nothing had happened.

Maybe it was true. Maybe she had noticed him acting strange, but with Gabriel, you never knew if he was doing it on purpose or if he was always like that. He was a peculiar man. Capable of smoking, against all his principles, just to give her a number hidden on a piece of paper.

Was that sweet? Or stupid? She didn't know. But there he was, sitting next to her, with the cigarette between his fingers and smoke on his lips, and that poorly concealed air of someone still waiting for an answer.

Now she had his number and all the possibilities in the palm of her hand.

 

---

 

Marinette wasn't one of those people who lived glued to their cell phone as if it were an extension of their body. In fact, because of her job, that was almost impossible. Her task was to constantly watch over a person who caused more chaos than he admitted, and any distraction, no matter how small, could cost her dearly. 

That's why cell phones were strictly prohibited during shifts, but not using them didn't mean she didn't have one. Of course, she had one, a sturdy one with a slightly scratched screen and not many apps; more useful than pretty.

Even so, that night, as she lay in her room, the girl couldn't stop looking at her cell phone. She held it in her hand as if it were a bomb she didn't know whether to defuse or let explode.

Gabriel had given her his number, and not only that, he had done so while smoking in the garden, with an air as solemn as it was absurd. Only a man would be capable of betraying his own values for such a theatrical maneuver.

She hadn't thought much about why he did it until now. But now she understood.

After their shift ended, they didn't talk, not a word. As if they didn't live under the same roof. As if the rest of the time they were mere strangers, and although at some point she had believed that it was best to maintain boundaries, not to cross lines, now she felt that perhaps a little communication outside of work hours wouldn't hurt.

Especially because of whatever was going on between them.

But now the difficult part was something else: what on earth should she write to him?

She couldn't just not send him anything. It would be like rejecting his attempt. But she couldn't write him just any old nonsense either. A simple greeting? That sounded pathetic. Tell him it was her? Even more pathetic, and besides, what kind of woman gets stressed out over a message? She talked to this man every damn day, she had fought with him, kissed him, humiliated him, and now she was paralyzed by a message. Ridiculous.

But she also knew him. Gabriel was the most spiteful man in the world. If she didn't write to him, he would know and remember it forever.

She had already saved his number hours ago. All she had to do was write something. Marinette took a deep breath, put her fingers on the keyboard, and nothing.

An insult seemed too much, a sweet phrase too, and something neutral was boring, so she asked herself, what would she write that he would know, without a doubt, was her?

The answer was obvious.

After several seconds of fighting with herself, she finally wrote the message. It wasn't long, it wasn't formal. It was very Marinette.

"I didn't think you'd smoke just to give me your number. I'm still wondering if it's pathetic or really cute." 

She sent it before she could change her mind, turned off the screen, and turned it back on two seconds later. Had he read it yet?

The young woman tossed and turned in bed, unable to stay still. Had she sounded arrogant? Playful? Too confident? But she couldn't deny it, the message was perfect.

And only he would know that that message could only have come from her.

Gabriel's reply didn't come right away. It took a few minutes, long enough to make her think she might have gone too far. But when the notification finally lit up the screen, Marinette smiled immediately.

"Benefits of having an addicted employee, that wasn't in the contract." 

She almost burst out laughing.

Not only was he arrogant, but he was as theatrical as if he were sitting in front of her with that dry, self-sufficient tone that characterized him so well. Reading it was like hearing him, and damn, that was almost worse. Because when Gabriel spoke like that in person, she could look away. But in a message, every word was a direct shot.

"A smoker taking care of an alcoholic? You should fire us, Mr. Agreste." 

His response came almost instantly. 

"You should come with instructions, or a warning." 

That surprised her. Marinette narrowed her eyes as she looked at the screen. So Gabriel was determined to play? Fine.

She replied in the same tone, bold and challenging

"I thought you liked challenges, or do they intimidate you?" 

The man replied quickly, his arrogance intact but with a more intimate spark. 

"I like challenges, but never before has a challenge attacked me or touched a private part."

The young woman smiled. It was the kind of smile you can't control. It was strange. She saw him every day, and they talked every day. And yet this felt new. As if they had access to a channel where they could say things to each other that they wouldn't dare say in person. Or not so easily.

So she decided that if they were going to play, she would play well. She wrote him something only she could do, a phrase so mischievous and arrogant that it made her own eyebrows rise as she sent it.

"And I thought you liked that kind of thing, or are you just saying it to punish me?" 

The response took a while. Much longer than the others.

She stared at the screen, waiting for the new message, but nothing came. And that made her laugh. First a slight laugh. Then louder. Then Marinette put her hand over her mouth to stifle it, because she couldn't burst out laughing alone in her room.

God, what was she doing? What was Gabriel doing to her? And what the hell had she just written to him?

The young woman fell back onto the bed, still smiling like an idiot with her cell phone on her chest. She loved this. Every word, every game, every response.

Was it a game of seduction or a war of egos? Whatever it was, Marinette was ready to win.

Her phone vibrated. She unlocked it without thinking, a smile ready, and read it. 

"Punish you for touching me inappropriately? I thought it was just feigned clumsiness to touch me." 

The girl let out an amused snort. Of course, he would respond like that, but she could do it too. 

"I only did it because you ordered me to. You know... boss." 

The final period was almost a stifled laugh. But as soon as she sent it, her phone vibrated again.

"And since when do you do what I say? Or do I have to corner you to get you to obey me?" 

Marinette smiled mischievously. She could almost imagine him with that arrogant, cynical, defiant look. She pretended to think before writing. 

"When you're very insistent, even I give in." 

The reply came in seconds. 

"Then get ready, because I haven't really started insisting yet." 

The young woman raised her eyebrows. The daring was so great that she could no longer tell if they were fighting, flirting, or on the verge of setting the whole house on fire. 

"Is that a challenge? Because I warn you, I'm good at that." 

"I won't believe it until I see it. I dare you to come to my room. Now." 

She stopped. Was he serious? She reread it. Yes. Not another word. Not an explanation. Just a command, direct, upfront, and, why not, full of desire.

Marinette didn't respond immediately. She wanted him to earn it.

"Are you having such a hard time that you're already asking for favors?" 

"Favor? No. I'm begging with dignity. But if you don't come soon, dignity will be the first thing I lose." 

The response was so brazen that she almost dropped her phone. Marinette brought her hand to her face. Gabriel had no shame, and the worst part was that she loved it. He was so immodest, so shamelessly intense, that she didn't know how to respond. She had to outdo him, or at least match him.

"If I come up, it won't be just to talk. So you better be sure of what you're asking for. Because this time I'm not going to stop at the fabric." 

The message was sent.

Five seconds.

Ten.

Until the reply came.

"I'll open the window. Come up."

Marinette didn't wait any longer. She didn't need to, not another word via text, because the next thing she would say would be face to face.

The girl quickly put on her shoes. It didn't matter that she was wearing light pants and a sleeveless T-shirt; she wasn't going to stop now. 

Marinette left her cell phone on the pillow and slipped out of her room like a whisper in the shadows. She no longer needed to feel her way down the hallways or count her steps; she knew exactly how to avoid the cameras, which areas to walk on to avoid making noise, and when to move forward without being seen.

The garden was covered in the thick darkness of dawn, but she knew exactly where to go. She positioned herself under Gabriel's bedroom window, her mind already focused. Climbing was now routine, her hands always steady and her legs agile, and as he said, the window was open. 

She entered with the grace of a cat, and there he was, standing by the window frame, waiting for her, as if he had done nothing else all night but look out and wait for her.

The man was also already in his nightclothes, and both of them should have been asleep, but the heat between them said otherwise.

"To think that I only had to say it once and you're here," he said in a voice so confident that it penetrated her to the bone.

"To think that you sold yourself for a cigarette and a plea." 

He tilted his head, as if accepting a blow, but immediately his eyes sparkled mischievously.

"Not just anyone can get me to stoop to that. You rose above it. Like I told you." 

"Because you begged," she replied sharply. "And it's not every night I see you lose your pride." 

The man took a step toward her, the floor not creaking once. His shadow stretched across the room, tall and enveloping. He lowered his gaze without losing that dangerous smile.

"And yet you're still here. In my room. In your nightclothes. Are you really going to keep pretending you didn't come here for the same reason I did?" 

Marinette stared at him. Her neck tilted back slightly, but her eyes never wavered.

"I just came to see if what you promised was worth it." 

The laugh that came from Gabriel's chest was low, deep, with that hint of seductive menace. It wasn't a guffaw. It was a dark, slow vibration. As if he knew the game had only just begun.

He took another step forward. The closeness made the air between them burn.

"You're playing with fire," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

"You opened the window for me, Gabriel. Or did you think I'd stop just when things were getting interesting?" She smiled, tilting her head insolently.

He looked at her with an intensity that pierced her skin; he couldn't help it. There could be a thousand things about her that drove him crazy, but if he had to choose one, it would be her tongue. That loose tongue, unfiltered, shameless, sharp, defiant, and dangerous.

And damn it, how he loved it.

Gabriel very slowly brought his hands toward Marinette. His fingers didn't tremble, but they were conscious, cautious, as if they still carried the memory of what a simple touch could unleash. 

He just raised them to her face, and there, his thumbs found her cheeks. The young woman's skin was soft, not like porcelain. She wasn't fragile, but she was genuine, alive. She wasn't wearing makeup, and she didn't need it. Her skin had that unabashed naturalness that required no embellishment.

The man seemed to study her. As if reading a secret map that only he could decipher. His eyes did not stray from hers, and Marinette, far from being intimidated, held his gaze. There was something about her, something sharp and alert, as if she already knew that the words that would come were not casual.

"You know, there are games where the winner is the one who knows when to keep quiet, but you speak so well that it's a shame to let you lose," he murmured in a deep, calm voice. 

The young girl raised an eyebrow, without breaking eye contact. She smiled with that dangerous sparkle that was so characteristic of her.

"And there are others where you win by talking... but you use words as if they were swords, Gabriel. Only you lack the edge."

He barely curved the corners of his lips. He liked it. Damn it, he loved that wit. He leaned in a little closer, without letting go of her face, his thumbs now sliding very slowly over her cheeks, caressing her not for tenderness, but for distraction.

"I agree with you... But be careful," he replied with a crooked smile. "Sometimes blunt swords cut deeper. Especially when they're already inside." 

Marinette blinked slightly, but didn't move. She could feel him, his breath, the depth of his eyes, and that slow pressure on her cheeks, but she didn't flinch. On the contrary, she pushed herself further.

"Then you'll have to make sure you sink it deep, before I snatch it away and use it against you," she said in a voice as sweet as it was poisonous.

The man blinked for a second. Just one. Not out of weakness, but out of surprise. The young woman's insolence was an art, but that phrase was a masterpiece. It drew a more candid, crooked, delighted smile from him, as if he had just seen someone play his own game and beat him at it.

She caught the change and, as a good strategist, knew it was time to shift tactics.

"But if you ask me nicely, maybe... just maybe... I'll let you win this time." Her words were not a dagger. They were a sweet, enveloping whisper, like a petal resting on a wound.

Such mellowness was unusual for her, and it disconcerted him. He knew her to be sharp, direct, and unadorned. That sweetness, that curve in her tone left him speechless, if only for a few seconds.

Gabriel couldn't give up. So he decided to try his own weapon, slow seduction, like a poison that goes unnoticed until it has entered the bloodstream.

"What if, instead of asking you..." He leaned in a little closer, his breath brushing her face. "...I convince you without saying a single word?" 

His voice was lower, denser. His hands remained on her, his thumbs tracing subtle paths that tickled her tension, her desire, her playfulness. Gabriel wasn't going to fall so easily, and she knew it. That's why the fire between them only grew stronger.

But Marinette stuck to her tactic. Her tongue didn't lose its edge, but now she enveloped him with that honeyed, almost innocent tone, as if her words were petals covering a slow and delicious poison. The sweetness didn't soften her; on the contrary, it made her more dangerous.

"Convince me without words?" she whispered, her voice almost a caress. "Wow, I didn't know you were so afraid to speak. Have you run out of resources, sir?"

Gabriel clenched his jaw slightly. Not out of anger, but out of the effort he was making not to fall for her provocations. She kept talking, and he kept touching her. She hadn't touched him at all. She only used her voice. Her sharp tongue. Her insolent gaze.

He, on the other hand, had to use his hands to distract her. His fingers, still on her cheeks, descended with studied precision, moving down the line of her neck with a slowness that could set her blood on fire.

How long had it been since he had tried to seduce a woman? He wasn't even sure if he had ever really done it. His life had been duty, responsibility, and control. Desire had always been kept locked away like an unloaded gun, but now, with Marinette, it was aimed straight at the fire.

"Fear?" he repeated, his voice now lower, deeper. "No, what I have is respect for your ears. If I tell you what I'm really thinking, I doubt you'll sleep tonight." 

The young woman raised an eyebrow. Her smile widened with a sweetness so dangerous it could well have been poison disguised as honey.

"What if I don't want to sleep tonight?" 

The man's gaze darkened slightly, as if her words had elicited a reaction he was struggling to hide.

She took advantage of it. She took a step. Not backward, but toward him. She moved so close that Gabriel's chest barely grazed her body, without quite touching her. The heat between them was electric.

Marinette leaned slightly, the same tilt Gabriel had used before with his height, now she used it with precision. Her face was just inches from his.

"I wonder," she whispered, her voice both caressing and cutting, "if everything you're thinking lives up to your promises, or if you're just smoke and mirrors, Gabriel?" 

The provocation was direct, almost brutal, but delivered in such a seductive tone that it slid like silk between blades.

The man wasn't expecting it. Not so fast. Not with that intensity. The girl could be a weapon when she played rough, but when she turned sweet, she was lethal. He felt his body respond even before his mind did. He had to act. He had to match her.

He lowered his head a little more, as if to kiss her, but he didn't. He stopped his lips just a breath away from hers. His gaze descended to her mouth, then returned to her eyes.

"Smoke?" He repeated softly, his breath caressing her lips. "How curious... because you lit me up first." 

She laughed. But it was a restrained laugh. That low laugh, closed in her throat, as if it were hard for her not to give in to the game. But she didn't give in.

And if Gabriel thought he was close to winning, Marinette took another step. Subtle. Barely pressing their bodies together. It was no longer him using his physique as a weapon. Now it was she who was pushing him to surrender.

"Then get ready to burn, Gabriel," she murmured.

That line had disappeared. The game was stepping up a level. Neither of them was talking about winning anymore, but whoever lost would regret it for the rest of their life.

And the most incredible thing was that they both knew it.

Notes:

I'm sorry to have cut the chapter off here, but I thought it would be better for the next chapter to focus entirely on what will happen between these two.

I told you something was missing. How will they communicate if they can't do so openly?

But I know you'll be eager for the next chapter. I'll try not to take too long, but pay attention to the small details.

Thank you very much for reading.

Chapter 16: The game that no one dared to stop.

Summary:

Gabriel and Marinette continue their little game of endurance, competing to see who will be the first to lose.

Gabriel tried to be bolder, although he wasn't even sure how to do that. His hands moved down, leaving Marinette's face. 

They no longer caressed or tested the waters; now they settled firmly, and he placed one on each side of her waist. He didn't hold her tightly, but it wasn't a superficial touch either. Even so, he was the one trembling inside.

Marinette didn't flinch at this gesture. Her breathing didn't change, nor did her sweet smile fade. On the contrary, she leaned in a little, just a little, as if her body spoke louder than her mouth.

"Is that all, Gabriel? Is holding all you know how to do?" She challenged him with that tone that was like poison coated in sugar.

He blinked, not because of the boldness of the phrase, but because of what it meant. Was it a provocation? A sign? A trap? With Marinette, you never knew. 

She was like a blade without direction that could cut your face at the slightest carelessness, he knew that well. Once, a miscalculated move on his part ended in an instinctive defense from the young woman. Her arm barely moved, but it was enough to understand that if she wanted to, she could tear him to pieces.

So no, it wasn't as simple as touching her; it was like defusing a bomb that was also smiling at you.

The man stood still, trapped in the silence of someone who doesn't know whether to move forward or remain motionless.

"Are you scared?" she whispered. "Don't worry... if you do it right, I won't bite. Much." 

The laugh he would have let out was stifled in his throat. Was it a test? A trap? A game? All three?

Marinette didn't make it any easier for him. She didn't let her guard down, she didn't give him any clues, her face remained as harmless as it was sensual, with a studied, unreadable, unbreakable calm. She was trained not to reveal anything, and yet to reveal everything.

The young woman was impossible, irritating, but absolutely delightful.

His head screamed at him not to touch her, but his body was already moving. His hands descended slightly, still at her waist, but now with his thumbs moving. It wasn't rude, nor was it entirely daring; it was more of an exploration, a hint, as if he were testing the waters, as if he were measuring the depth of the abyss before jumping.

"You know that if you provoke me, I won't stop halfway," he warned in a lower voice. 

The girl tilted her head, her expression didn't change much, but her eyebrows rose with an almost theatrical slowness. 

"Was that all?" she asked with a fake look of disappointment. 

And although her tone was sweet, her words... hurt. She belittled him, made him feel small, and at the same time, with that double-edged sword that was so characteristic of her, she challenged him to prove her wrong.

The man felt a tingling sensation run down his spine. She was impossible, a storm disguised as a flower, and he was the idiot who thought he could predict the weather.

There was no clue in her gestures, just a constant game of signals that canceled each other out. Marinette said she was disappointed, but her eyes said go for it. She said she didn't bite, but all her gestures were fangs.

And he was trapped, completely surrendered, not knowing whether to take the next step or run away, and completely sure that whatever he did, Marinette would make him pay, and somehow, he wanted to pay willingly.

So Gabriel simply tried something else; if hands could be a trap, then he would use the only thing Marinette hadn't yet disarmed, her mouth.

Gabriel lowered his face slightly, bringing it closer to hers, and his lips began to move, but not to speak, not this time. He brushed her cheek, barely touching her cheekbone, then moved down toward her jaw, slowly, almost innocently, but the intention felt like it was burning. It wasn't affection, it was defiance.

Marinette felt her skin tingle as his lips brushed against hers, and she let out a tiny sigh, but he noticed it.

"You say you don't bite," he murmured in a deep voice, just as his lips grazed the corner of hers, "but I'm starting to think you like it when they do." 

The young woman narrowed her eyes, as if she wanted to respond, but the contact robbed her of some of her focus.

"Only if it's worth it..." she murmured, though her voice sounded a little softer than normal, as if she were measuring it out.

The man smiled against her skin. He had her a little lost, and he loved it.

"Then I must be doing something wrong..." He whispered teasingly as he left a warmer touch on her neck. "You haven't complained once. I'm worried." 

Marinette snorted softly, as if resisting laughter. "Maybe I expected more from you," she muttered, imitating his teasing tone, feigning disappointment.

"More?" He raised his eyebrow with a crooked smile and repeated with feigned surprise, "Do you want me to tell you what else I can do to you with just my mouth?" 

Gabriel moved a little closer, his lips brushing the sensitive line just below the girl's ear, where he knew her skin vibrated.

"Because I have a list... a very detailed one," he whispered so low, so hoarse, that even the air seemed to hold its breath.

The young woman tensed, and her cheeks, despite her self-control, began to flush. Where on earth did Gabriel get such things? Had he always had that tongue? Or was she the one bringing it out in him?

She couldn't be outdone, she wasn't about to let him have the last word. She slid one of her hands calmly, without haste, up to his neck and pulled him slightly toward her, as if she were going to kiss him, but instead she brought her lips close to his ear.

"What are you waiting for?" she whispered, as sensual and dangerous as a secret. "Because I have a list too... but I prefer to cross things off, not just imagine them." 

The phrase was like a spark, they both knew what they were doing, they were adding fuel to the fire, and yet there they were, looking into each other's eyes as if the room couldn't contain the electricity floating between them.

Gabriel swallowed hard, feeling his heart in his throat. Who the hell let her learn to say things like that? However, he was loving every word she said.

The man didn't want to be left behind. He didn't know if Marinette was still playing or if she was serious, but if this was a game, he was going to make sure she regretted starting it.

He leaned in again, and this time he went further, using his lips with precision and boldness, as if every inch of skin he touched had the sole purpose of making her tremble.

And indeed, Marinette trembled; it was just a shiver that ran down her back like an electric shock, and her skin bristled. Her breathing became uneven.

He felt it, and that was enough to know he was on the right track. Now, more than a game, it was a personal mission: to turn the young woman's world upside down.

His mouth descended subtly, stopping just where her neck met her shoulder. He brushed that spot with torturous slowness, as if seeking to engrave himself on her skin, his warm breath touching her between caresses and sighs.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked in a low voice, wrapped in his most sensual tone. 

Marinette didn't respond immediately, her body seeming to hesitate for a second.

"That's all? What a disappointment..." She replied with that same playful and provocative tone that characterized her.

A mockery, a provocation, a direct stab at his ego; Gabriel smiled, without pulling away, he had to continue and see how much more he could resist that poisonous tongue.

He kissed her again, but this time with more pressure and more heat, his lips descending to areas that felt forbidden, that felt intimate, that knew exactly which buttons to push to set someone like Marinette on fire.

The young woman felt everything—his lips, his breath, the rhythm—and she was letting herself go, not out of weakness, but because it was inevitable.

Marinette sighed, lowered her head slightly, and for a second, just a brief second, it seemed as though she was going to give in.

"Is this the best you can do?" she whispered with a sly smile, her voice hoarse from holding her breath so long. "I thought you'd be better." 

Gabriel laughed, a deep, warm laugh, but he didn't stop. On the contrary, he kissed her right on the collarbone and moved up slowly to the edge of her jaw.

"If I show you, you'll probably never leave me," he murmured mockingly against her skin.

"Promises, promises..." she replied provocatively. "Do you know what the worst thing is?" she asked in a barely audible voice next to his ear. "That if you do this to me one more time... I'll probably end up begging you not to stop." 

The man froze, his mouth stopped, and so did his breathing; for a moment, he didn't know whether to tremble, laugh, or kiss her in a way that would erase that phrase from his head, but it was too late.

Those words had already embedded themselves in his mind, and now he could only think about that and what would come next.

The man wanted to believe that those words were a green light, an open door to move forward. Maybe it wasn't an explicit invitation, but it wasn't a warning to back off either, and most importantly, it didn't seem like she was going to hit him.

Because if Marinette really got angry, it wouldn't be with a playful push or a condescending insult. No, the girl had a temper that could shake walls, a dry ice that spread without warning. He had already seen flashes of that temper, and he had no desire to awaken it by mistake.

But she was pushing him to that limit, and he no longer wanted to think, no longer wanted to analyze, he wanted to act.

So he did, without further ado, Gabriel leaned in and captured Marinette's lips with his own.

The first kiss was not gentle, it was direct, forceful, passionate, desperate, a cry for everything they had held back during that barrage of words and provocations.

Marinette responded without hesitation and without restraint, and that was enough for him. 

The kiss intensified immediately, their lips moving hungrily, needily, his tongue seeking hers, melting with hers in a dance that spoke for him more than any words could. He didn't want to be the first to stop, he didn't want to give up even then.

His hands, meanwhile, began to move upward, brushing the contours of her back as if it were something sacred and forbidden at the same time, until he felt the edge of her blouse, the thin, cheap fabric. He didn't stop to think about it.

Gabriel wasn't so superficial that such a detail would distract him. What mattered was that the edge was the door, and he crossed it.

His fingers slid under the fabric, carefully but impatiently, until he touched her skin, her lower back, a vulnerable, intimate, warm area.

His fingers were long and warm, and the contrast with the softness of her skin caused an immediate spasm in her, small but clear.

An involuntary shiver that spoke to him more than a thousand words, and for a second, Gabriel smiled within the kiss, because finally, at least in that moment, he had her trembling, trembling for him.

The man took advantage of that, that tremor, that spasm that confirmed to him that the young woman was not as steely as she appeared, that beneath all that sharp tongue and impenetrable gaze there was skin, skin that reacted and trembled.

He didn't stop kissing her; he didn't lessen the intensity. Quite the opposite, his lips continued to press against Marinette's with the same hunger, as if he needed her to breathe, as if devouring her was the only way to avoid suffocating to death.

His tongue, bold and wild, gave no respite, playing, pushing, brushing, caressing, striking, he slipped without permission into every corner of her mouth, and every time he found her, he enveloped her in a hot, sticky dance.

The air between them did not exist, only that moist, warm pressure, a constant collision of mouths that did not want to let go.

Gabriel's hands were firmly clasped to her back, and slowly they began to move with a clear, delicious, enveloping intention.

His fingers ascended the line of her spine, brushing vertebra by vertebra, as if he wanted to memorize its architecture. There was no hurry, but no hesitation either. He explored as one who discovers a map, attentive to every detail.

If Marinette had a mole, a scar, a small imperfection, he wanted to feel it, to appreciate it with his fingertips, to store the texture of her skin in the memory of his touch.

The girl's skin was soft but not fragile; it had the firmness of people who train, who move, who fight, but under his caresses, that skin seemed to melt.

The man felt his way, tracing curves, circling her shoulder blades, slowly exploring her waist with a silent hunger that crept under her blouse. His goal was clear: to discover which areas made her sigh, which made her shiver, and which, with luck, made her vulnerable.

He did all this while kissing her with the same wild intensity, the same unbroken rhythm, as if he didn't want to lose a single second of that contact, as if kissing her were an instinct, a physical and non-negotiable need.

Marinette, for her part, felt too much; her senses were overwhelmed, her skin was boiling, and every caress, every touch of his long fingers on her back, was a spark that ignited another part of her.

And his lips... God, Gabriel's lips never stopped. They were like punishment and reward at the same time. He devoured her, made her his, dragged her to a place where rules didn't exist, and all that mattered was what her body screamed in silence.

Perhaps she had challenged him too much and there was the result; Gabriel, with his mouth and hands, was bending her will inch by inch.

All she could do to resist was with her tongue, and even that was slowly slipping away.

Because she didn't want to stop the kiss, she didn't want to back down, she didn't want to humiliate him, she just wanted more, more pressure, more caresses, and more of his mouth. But how? How could she do that without taking the next step?

Touch Gabriel, touch his skin...

That still seemed forbidden. He was still her boss and she was still his employee, although that didn't make sense now, not when he had her in his arms like this and when his tongue was tangled with hers in that bold, wet, sticky rhythm.

The young woman thought about the rules for a second, but the man's tongue hit her teeth and drew another sigh from her, and the rules were erased.

Another caress, another burning touch. How was she supposed to think clearly while he burned her like this?

It was impossible, and perhaps, deep down, she wanted to think, not now, not if it meant stopping.

So Marinette simply let herself go, for once, she let go of control, let Gabriel guide the kiss, set the pace, decide how and where to touch her, as if he had earned the right to do so after that war of tongues, phrases, and provocations.

At that moment, she surrendered only partially, because the battle still coursed through her veins, but her body followed him.

She let his mouth do whatever it wanted with hers, letting his tongue keep exploring and conquering, letting his lips capture her again and again. She also let his hands, firm and trembling at the same time, continue their slow and voracious journey down her back.

It was as if they were losing themselves in each other.

The kiss didn't stop. When their lips parted, it was only to take a breath, and then they melted back together, in that silent voracity, their bodies began to seek each other out more.

Instinct pushed them together; they came together without thinking. Their bodies shared the same space, the same breath, the same heat.

But Marinette felt it, it was slight at first, a touch, a slight pressure, but with the next movement, it was impossible to ignore.

Gabriel was pressing his erection hard against her, against her belly and her skin, he was pressing himself against her body with a clarity impossible to disguise.

The young woman barely blinked; she continued kissing him, but something in her mind lit up. Gabriel was completely aroused; his penis was more than firm.

It was surprising, strange, and also a kind of shock. Yes, she had touched him before, but on that occasion his penis was not aroused, but now it was awake and not only that; it seemed to be asking her for something, asking for her.

The impact ran through her like a chill. Part of her wanted to continue as if nothing had happened, to keep kissing him and ignore it, but the body doesn't lie, and his penis was hitting her belly with a consistency that made it impossible to pretend that nothing was happening.

The worst, or the most obvious, thing was that she knew it was her fault. She had provoked him, she had tempted and challenged him, and now Gabriel was responding to each of her provocations with that burning ardor, pressing against her skin.

Marinette breathed harder, without breaking the kiss, but inside, her thoughts were swirling. What now? She could feel him, strong, asking for something she didn't know if she could or should give him.

Maybe that was her punishment, the result of taking it too far, of not knowing when to stop. She loved beating Gabriel, but now that victory felt like a weapon pointed at her.

Does he know? Is he fully aware of how she feels? Does he know that her body is pressing against him so clearly? Or is this his way of punishing her? Of showing her how far provocation can go?

Marinette couldn't know. The man continued kissing her, without pause, as if the fire burning in his veins would never be extinguished. His hands continued caressing her back with increasingly hungry, confident movements, and at the same time, that weight in her belly was still there, reminding her that it wasn't all words and games.

It was time for Marinette to think about it. Did she want more? How far was she willing to go? She hadn't thought about it when she climbed through the window. She just wanted to beat him, laugh, turn him on, but now Gabriel wasn't playing, or maybe he was, but there was no turning back from this game.

"Why don't you touch me?" Gabriel's voice slipped between her lips, barely a hoarse whisper full of desire.

Marinette tensed for a second, the phrase floating in the air between their mouths that were still searching for each other, and she didn't know exactly what he meant. Touch him like he touched her? Touch him there? Or just touch his skin?

The man wasn't clear, and the young woman hated to fail at something like this, she hated it more than anything else.

So, just in case, her hands remained still, not daring to seek him out yet, staying away from his skin as the kiss continued.

She tried to continue as if nothing had happened, but he wasn't going to let her off that easily.

"Are you suddenly shy, Marinette?" he asked in that tone that made her burn with rage and heat at the same time.

The mocking tone, accompanied by the touch of his breath, struck her like a calculated provocation. The girl no longer knew whether she wanted to kiss him or insult him, but it wasn't shyness; rather, it was uncertainty. She didn't want to do anything wrong, not when Gabriel had that expression that seemed to read every corner of her soul.

Marinette, in an attempt to divert his attention, tried to make him forget with her lips, feigning disinterest, but Gabriel laughed, a vibrant laugh, directly over her mouth.

"You're shy... but I'll help you." 

The young woman almost pulled away reflexively. What did that mean? But she didn't have time to move or demand an explanation. The man broke the kiss with a decisiveness that left her frozen.

His hands moved down. Gabriel took his time, unhurried, as if the moment belonged to him. His fingers reached the hem of her nightgown, and without taking his eyes off her, he removed it.

Gabriel stood naked from the waist up in front of her. Marinette didn't have time to examine him, to take in the details, the scars, the muscles, the color, because in a matter of seconds, he moved closer again as if he had never moved away, his lips capturing hers once more, with the same hunger, the same urgency.

But now she understood, there was no longer any ambiguity, Gabriel wanted her to touch him as he touched her, and she did so without complaint.

She reached out her hands to him decisively. Gabriel's skin was warm, but her fingers, cold from the night and lack of contact, sent a small shiver through him.

She could feel it, and so could he, but neither of them stopped.

The man's back was broad, and at first she didn't know where to start, but time was pressing, she couldn't keep hesitating, so she began to explore it.

Her fingers explored him, slowly at first, from the center of his back to his sides, she felt his muscles tense under her touch, how his skin responded to each stroke.

Gabriel's breathing changed slightly, almost imperceptibly. He let out a deeper sigh, a slight growl contained in his throat, but as she caressed him, as her hands discovered that back she had never touched before, the other thing was still there, pressing.

Gabriel's erection remained so awake between them, pressing against her belly, reminding her that everything Gabriel felt was there.

But he didn't mention it, he deliberately ignored it, so Marinette didn't mention it either, not for now. She chose to focus on his back, on the kiss, on how her fingers now slid more loosely, more daringly, searching for the areas that made Gabriel vibrate.

The line of his spine, the hollow beneath his shoulder blades, the edge where his ribs began, the soft, taut, living skin beneath her nails.

Gabriel didn't have a sculpted, gym-toned body, but she was surprised by every inch she touched. Despite his age, he had a body that still spoke of strength and firmness.

He wasn't one of those men who looked sculpted, but his chest was still high, his abdomen, though not perfect, had not succumbed to time, and under her fingers, all of him felt very good.

His skin was literally burning, and Marinette thought she could stay there, just caressing him as if he were a private source of heat in the middle of the night.

Her hands explored him slowly, circling his torso, moving toward the front, touching the sides of his stomach, just where the muscle lines began to disappear under the waistband of his pants.

She didn't dare go down there, she let her fingers slide, soft, mesmerized, dangerously close, each touch was like a silent provocation and Gabriel felt it all.

Their lips didn't part, they sought each other out again and again, their tongues remained entangled in that slow, wet game, without haste, as if they could devour each other for hours.

In the midst of it, Gabriel's hands slid down from Marinette's back, slipped to her waist again, and stopped.

He pulled away just a couple of inches, just enough to look at her, to observe her dilated eyes, to read her ragged breathing.

"You have no idea," he murmured in that deep voice, like velvet dragged across hot coals, "what you do to me when you do that..." 

The girl smiled haughtily, as if she knew exactly what she was doing, but inside, she felt herself melting.

The man kissed her again, but this time his lips didn't stay on her mouth, they slid along her jaw, down her neck, stealing a deeper sigh from her when they reached the hollow between her collarbone and shoulder.

Just when it seemed she was about to take control, he lowered his lips a little further. The young woman held her breath. He wasn't going fast; he was going deliberately, with perversion, with that accumulated desire that didn't need urgency, but precision, and he was doing it well.

She lowered her hands a little further down his abdomen, barely grazing his soft muscles with her nails, and he reacted.

"Are you trying to get revenge?" he murmured against her skin, in a mixture of laughter and a sigh.

"I'm testing your endurance," she murmured with a mischievous smile.

That's when Gabriel turned up the intensity, his lips finding the edge of Marinette's neckline and not crossing it, but skirting it, probing it, exploring it as if the mere touch were a declaration of war.

His hands, meanwhile, wrapped around her waist and slowly moved up her sides, pressing with measured force, not like a clumsy lover, but like someone who wanted to take her breath away, like someone who had been waiting for this for too long.

Marinette's body trembled, her heart beating so hard that she felt he could hear it, and her breath mingled with Gabriel's, between soft gasps and bites of desire.

It was impossible not to notice that Gabriel's body was still aroused, that every caress, every touch, turned him on even more, and that she was to blame.

"Are you going to do something about it... or are you just going to stare at me like that?" He challenged her, with a cheeky half-smile.

"It depends," she replied, feigning innocence. "Are you going to beg?" 

"I already did that once." He laughed softly, as if the idea didn't bother him. "Don't provoke me, you might end up doing things to me you didn't intend to." 

"And who said I didn't intend to?" She looked at him, challenging every word.

There they were, at the breaking point, there was no turning back, just a line so thin that any poorly controlled breath would break it.

Gabriel didn't throw himself on top of her, he didn't push her against the bed, he didn't cross any boundaries, he just kissed her again, with a new, different intensity, as if that kiss was no longer just desire, but hunger.

When their lips met again, the world contracted, the heat was suffocating, their bodies were so close, so awake, and so on edge. 

Gabriel leaned in closer, Marinette's body molding to his almost instinctively, as if that position were already natural, and with deliberate slowness, his hands descended from her waist, sliding down her hips until they found their final destination.

His palms pressed firmly against the young woman's buttocks, a secure and territorial grip.

It was impossible for him not to notice the firmness of her buttocks, their perfect shape, a balance between strength and femininity.

A direct consequence of all that damn training, Marinette was a woman built for combat, every part of her spoke of control, of power, but this drove him crazy.

The man squeezed, it was measured pressure, but enough to provoke her. She moved away just a few inches, breathing heavily, her lips still so close that she could feel the man's breath on hers.

She didn't scold him, or hit him, or glare at him, she just opened her mouth. 

"You know it's not a good idea to touch me," she warned, although it didn't sound like a warning.

"It's not? Because I love it." He let out a rough, dangerously masculine laugh. "I appreciate you working on this. Your firm butt doesn't come naturally." 

She blushed just a little, but enough for him to notice. It was strange to hear him talk like that. He was arrogant, proud, and annoying, but letting out such low, visceral words was strange. It didn't seem to offend her, not really, because what shone in her eyes was not annoyance, but a perverse joy, as if she had managed to throw him off balance.

As if that were the real prize.

However, Gabriel didn't dare to go any further. He kept his hands there, exploring, feeling, memorizing, squeezing once more with his fingers, as if each curve could burn his palms.

The man could feel her against him, her whole body; she, too, felt the effect of all that play. She had him pressing against her, her body, her breath, and that very awake part that she had provoked.

Even so, Marinette didn't back down; she didn't ask him to stop; she didn't say no; that was what drove him crazy, that ambiguous, delicious space where anything could happen but hadn't yet. 

Gabriel waited for her to say something, to utter another one of those shameless phrases that took his breath away, but the girl just stared at him, as if she were dismantling him from within. It seemed as if that silence was part of the punishment.

He leaned in again, barely touching her nose with his.

"Don't say you don't like it," he murmured, his voice lower, more raspy, "Because I can do it for hours..." 

Marinette closed her eyes for a second, then opened them, fixed on his.

"Don't say it either," she whispered, "You tend to disappoint me." 

Gabriel thought about crossing the line; he thought about it with every caress, with every squeeze, with every sigh between kisses. He thought about it, but he didn't do it, because that was the game.

This sweet hell, this agonizing despair, and if the young woman wanted to keep playing, he would make sure she never forgot the price of provoking him.

He didn't separate himself from her, his lips brushing her cheek with maddening slowness, moving down to the line of her jaw, her soft, warm skin beneath his breath. He didn't kiss her fully, he simply caressed her with his mouth, breathing against her, his lips open, soft, almost reverent.

"Is that okay... like this?" he asked in a rough, deep whisper. 

It was a question disguised as a touch. He didn't want to ruin the moment, he didn't want it all to be a misstep, but his hand was still in the same place, squeezing that perfect ass, not hiding the pleasure it gave him.

Marinette shuddered, it was a delicious mixture of intimate tickling and a voracious tingling sensation. She smiled, her eyes still closed, feeling his mouth so close.

"More," she said in a soft but mischievous voice.

The man stood motionless for just a second, which was all he needed. He looked at her, his pupils dilated, as if he were seeing her for the first time. Without saying another word, he took her in his arms with an ease that surprised her.

Gabriel lifted her gently, as if she weighed nothing, and carried her to the bed a few steps away. She did not resist. He laid her on the mattress carefully but without hesitation, and immediately his body covered hers, his weight falling on her, enveloping her completely.

The girl was lying down, her hair tousled against the pillow, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and he was on top of her, like a storm held back only by willpower.

Gabriel said nothing, he leaned down again and kissed her, and she responded with her lips, her tongue, her whole body arching slightly to meet him, as if that sealed something she still didn't dare say.

One of the man's hands slid down her body, not eager to touch where he shouldn't, but as if he were memorizing her. He ran his hand over her hip, her waist, the curve of her side.

"You're driving me crazy..." He exhaled a broken confession. 

Marinette laughed, a laugh stifled by her own heavy breathing, her lips curving against his with that teasing tone so characteristic of her.

"Barely? I thought I was already getting there since breakfast." 

That damn teasing destroyed him, but he didn't care; he didn't care that she was playing with him, that she was ridiculing him a little. All he cared about was that she was there, beneath him, with the same gleam of desire in her eyes, not asking him to stop.

"You were so hot for me that you couldn't read me," he laughed hoarsely against her mouth.

"It's hard to read you when you're always playing games," she replied with a mischievous smile.

He lowered his face, seeking her neck, her collarbone, not yet needing to kiss, just to feel, as if he needed to know that everything was real; the heat of their bodies was almost unbearable, their breaths mingling, their legs brushing against each other, and yet neither dared to go further.

They were on the edge and didn't fall.

Marinette had her eyes closed, lost in the sensation of his lips running down her neck, leaving an intense heat and a tingling sensation that seemed to engrave each kiss like an invisible mark. It was as if every place he touched burned and trembled at the same time.

Her breathing deepened when Gabriel brushed the curve where her neck and shoulder met. She reached out to him almost without thinking, trying to find a place to hold on to, but accidentally brushed his erection. It wasn't intentional; she wasn't looking for that, but her fingers passed right over that part, and the contact, though minimal, was enough for him to let out a low, quick gasp, as if the air had been knocked out of him.

"Mmm..." He murmured with a crooked smile, "Why don't you touch it like last time?" 

The young woman's eyes widened, caught between surprise and the sudden pressure of his question. She hadn't meant to do it; it was an accident, but now he had turned it into part of the game.

"I didn't mean to," she replied in a tone that was meant to sound neutral but didn't quite hide her agitation.

"Why are you being shy tonight?" He looked at her closely, his eyes dark and challenging.

"No. I just... choose my battles." She pressed her lips together, holding back a smile.

The answer made him smile even more. Gabriel let out a soft laugh, with a hint that for him it was almost an invitation.

"Did you come to watch and not to play?" 

She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head as if she were seriously considering his question.

"Let's just say I didn't intend to do either." 

Gabriel laughed harder, and in his eyes was that sparkle of a man who never accepts defeat. He leaned in again, resuming the trail of kisses and caresses, as if he were going to let her win, only to put her back on the ropes.

His lips moved down to her collarbone, and between kisses, he asked, "Or would you rather just watch?" His voice slid like a tempting whisper.

Marinette felt the blood rush to her face. It was exactly what he wanted, for her to say it, to give in, and the idea of seeing his penis... well, she couldn't deny that it tempted her, but she wasn't going to give it to him, not like this, and especially not so easily.

"You're not playing fair," she murmured, trying to maintain her composure.

"I never play fair," he replied with a smile that brushed her skin. "But I always win." 

She took a deep breath, letting the heat settle in her chest, quickly searching for a way out, a move that would deflect the attack without looking like she was running away. She found it.

"Why does it look like you're losing?" She looked at him directly, with a slow, calculated smile.

The comment hit like a bomb. It wasn't an open rejection, it wasn't a concession, it was a challenge.

He smiled with his mouth against her skin, but inside he was stormy. He couldn't stay silent forever. Very slowly, he began to probe further. His hands, which until now had played it safe, slid down her body, the curve of her hip, the narrow line of her waist, and moved up, brushing the outline of her breasts without quite touching them. Waiting, looking for any sign.

"Do you want to see them?" She threw her own poison at him.

Gabriel knew immediately that she was using his own trick, the one he used to put her on the ropes, but she caught him at his weak point; he didn't want to play anymore, he didn't want to skirt the line, he wanted to cross it once and for all.

"Yes," he replied, bluntly.

She raised an eyebrow, as if expecting him to laugh and pull away, but he didn't. Gabriel was still there, staring at her.

"Yes," he repeated, this time in a deeper, more intense tone.

"Wow... you fell for it so easily," she teased, biting her lip.

"I don't give a damn," he replied without batting an eyelid. "I want to see them, Marinette." 

The young woman sat up a little, leaning on her elbows, and looked at him with that half-smile that always drove him crazy.

"And what would you do if I showed them to you?" she asked, in a tone that seemed to invite and challenge him at the same time.

"Thank you properly," he replied without a hint of doubt.

Marinette let out a short laugh, but there was something different in her breathing. She took a deep breath, held it, and looked down for a moment, her hands going to the buttons of her shirt.

The man didn't take his eyes off her for a second, his gaze following her as her fingers began to unbutton her shirt, button by button, as if each click of fabric against fabric were a direct provocation. He wanted to see them and wasn't going to pretend otherwise.

The girl removed her shirt with an almost insulting calmness, revealing her breasts. Gabriel stood motionless, absorbing the image. They weren't overly large, but they were perfect, a size that invited being held, with a firmness that spoke of a well-cared-for body, and skin so clear and soft it looked like porcelain.

He didn't even realize he was moving his hand until he was about to touch them, but she quickly grabbed his wrist before he could reach them.

"You said you wanted to see them," she reminded him with a half-smile that, at that moment, seemed like the smile of a demon.

Sometimes Gabriel forgot how cruel Marinette could be, charming on the outside, but capable of the sweetest torture.

"Your breasts tell me they want to be touched," he said, his voice heavy with desire.

"I can do it myself," she replied, without looking away.

This was no longer a game, it was pure torture. Had she planned it this way from the beginning? Perhaps not. But at that moment, she had all the cards in her favor.

She moved a little so he could see them better, but that slight bounce of her breasts was a direct blow to his self-control. Gabriel tried again to move his hands, and again she stopped him.

"Don't do it," she warned firmly. "Remember, I'm stronger than you." 

He wouldn't have minded breaking a couple of fingers to touch them, but that warning stopped him.

"So you want me to stay here all night looking at them?" 

"Don't be ridiculous," she laughed lightly. "I can't stay here all night." 

It was true. Part of what allowed him to be in that room was the night, and his time was limited. That put pressure on the man. He had to move, think fast.

"Do you want me to beg you?" 

"It's not necessary." 

His hands dug into the bed, his fingers sinking into the blanket, wrinkling it tightly, as if that gesture could contain his desperation. He wanted to touch them, he wanted to squeeze them, mold them, feel them against his hands, but she had said no, and as much as it hurt, it was a no.

But his mind was already plotting something else. If his hands were off limits, he still had another weapon.

Very slowly, he let his mouth descend down her face, down to her neck, his lips barely brushing her. It was a warm touch, more of a whisper than contact, but each movement made her hold her breath.

He moved down a little further, following an invisible line toward her collarbone, where he paused, inhaling her scent as if he wanted to memorize it. He moved slowly, tracing the curve of her breasts, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath but without touching them.

Marinette noticed it. She realized that he was playing her own game, so close that the air between them seemed charged, but without breaking her rule, and that, somehow, was worse than if he had touched her.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a low tone that sounded more curious than annoyed.

"Exploring," he murmured without stopping his movements. 

His lips traced a dangerous path, brushing the upper part of her chest, that exact spot where the skin was most sensitive. He didn't touch her with his hands, but the closeness of his mouth, the heat, the breath, was a contact in themselves.

Marinette tried to maintain her composure, but her fingers clung to the blanket as if she needed an anchor. Gabriel noticed this gesture and smiled slightly, a flash of triumph. He stopped millimeters from her nipple, looking up at her from below.

"I could stay here all night," he whispered, tempting her. "Just... looking." 

Marinette let out a soft laugh, though her cheeks were already flushed.

"That would be very boring for you." 

"Maybe..." he replied, his voice sounding deeper. "But for me, right now, this is enough." 

Gabriel was still there, so close that the young woman's skin burned, but without touching her, his breath brushing the most sensitive part of her chest, and she, against all odds, felt a small shiver that she didn't want him to notice, although she knew he probably already had.

His hands, which until then had been clutching the blanket, moved with slow, dangerous determination. He did not touch her where she had forbidden him to, but he did wrap his arms around her, pulling her closer until her body gently collided with his.

Instead of seeking hers, his mouth descended to the base of her neck and from there began to trace a path of kisses and caresses with his lips, moving up the curve of her shoulder, advancing in an upward line that threatened to reach just where Marinette didn't want it to go.

"You have no idea," he whispered, his voice hoarse, the heat of his breath seeping through her skin, "how hard it is not to cross that line." 

Marinette felt her breathing quicken without permission. He wasn't just close, he was too close, each kiss a warning and a promise at the same time.

And then, in a movement so slow it became unbearable, Gabriel let his mouth come within a breath of her breasts, without touching them, his gaze rising to meet hers.

"You just have to say it," he said with a half-smile that didn't ask for permission, but offered pure temptation. "One word and I'll stop holding back." 

The girl's heart was beating like a drum. She knew that if she said it, there would be no turning back. She knew that as soon as the word left her mouth, he would have no restraint.

It was her decision, and Gabriel, well aware of this, maintained that unbearable distance, that tension that burned more than any contact.

Marinette, without saying a word, gently took the man's neck and guided his face toward her. There was no immediate contact, only that closeness that quickened both their pulses. He understood the message, not with his hands, but with his mouth.

Gabriel tilted his face until his lips barely brushed the softness of her breasts, leaving a first kiss brief, almost shy, as if to prove he could do it. The second kiss was slower, more confident, a touch that seemed to stick to her. His breath mingled with hers, and each warm exhalation remained trapped on her skin like a secret.

Marinette let out a slight, involuntary sigh, feeling how that careful attention awakened a different kind of warmth.

He, aware of her reaction, alternated soft kisses with small touches, as if drawing invisible shapes just for her. With each gesture, Marinette closed her eyes for a moment, holding on to the moment, memorizing the sensation and the weight of his gaze on her when he pulled away for a second to look at her.

It was a new game, not about who won or lost, but how long they could sustain that tension before one of them decided to go further.

Gabriel wasn't satisfied with just kissing; his mouth began to explore further, tracing short, barely moist paths with his tongue that left the young woman breathing more deeply.

At certain moments, his teeth gently caught the skin of her nipples, not to hurt her, but to remind her that he was there, that he could be as gentle or as intense as he wanted.

That contrast made her shiver.

The girl closed her eyes, enjoying every touch, feeling her chest rise and fall faster. Every time he paused for a second, it was as if her whole body was begging him to continue.

It was a game where she didn't need to ask for it with words; he knew how to read her.

Gabriel's hands, restless from the start, began to slide down her waist, along the curve of her back, without breaking the rule. His fingers moved slowly, pressing just enough, accompanying the rhythm of his mouth, as if his whole body were focused on a single purpose: to make her feel.

The man was happy; you could tell by the way he didn't rush, by how every gesture was full of intention, and like a pot on high heat, the tension began to build.

Her breathing became hotter, faster. Gabriel's hands squeezed a little tighter, his lips stopped being careful and became more intense, and every movement of his tongue or slight pressure from his teeth elicited a different reaction from her: a sigh, a slight arching of her back, an involuntary rubbing against him.

It was no longer a quiet game; the heat between them had become unbearable, and the air around them seemed to vibrate with the same intensity as their bodies. The oven was about to explode.

Gabriel was so close that Marinette could feel every breath against her skin. He didn't let go of his prey: his mouth and tongue remained trapped in that back-and-forth of caresses and soft bites, as if he wanted to engrave her shape in his memory. But suddenly, something in his gaze changed. It was no longer patience or play. It was hunger.

Gabriel pulled her even closer to him, erasing any space that remained between their bodies. There were no more measured movements or strategies; everything became urgent, almost clumsy, as if they both knew that this moment could not wait. Their mouths met in an intense, disorderly kiss, the kind that asks no permission and plans no farewell.

Control had been lost. There were no winners or losers in this game, just two people caught in the same fire they had started themselves.

Gabriel had his hands on the edge of her pajama bottoms, pulling gently but with a determination that made it clear there was no turning back.

"Are you taking care of yourself?" he asked, in a low voice, almost a whisper against her neck.

"No," she looked at him for a moment before answering. 

He stopped abruptly, a muffled curse escaping his lips, so low that she could barely hear it, but instead of pulling away, he kissed her again, as if he wanted to erase the conversation with his lips, but she held his face, interrupting him.

"You have condoms, right?" 

"No." 

"What do you mean, you don't have any?" 

"Why would I? For all the women I bring to this house?" He said ironically, with a half-smile.

"Shit," she whispered, knowing that this meant the line they were about to cross was blocked.

But the man didn't give up. He leaned in again, searching for her lips, but she dodged him.

"We can't."

"I'm not stupid, and I'm not a hormonal teenager," he said seriously. "I won't be that reckless." 

He tried to kiss her again; she stopped him again with her hand on his chest.

"Don't you trust me? You lectured me about that nonsense about trust... and now you don't trust what I'm saying?" He raised an eyebrow.

Marinette didn't answer. The phrase he remembered had nothing to do with pregnancy, but with a very different moment from this one. 

"Trust me... I won't do anything stupid." He brought his forehead close to hers and whispered, almost pleading. 

The young woman looked at him and knew that at that moment she was not giving in just because of desire, but because there was something in that voice, in that look, that made her unable to say no.

This time she kissed him, and they both decided to let themselves be carried away by what had begun.

The kiss was intense, dense, as if every second that passed took their breath away but gave them something more valuable. Gabriel held her close to him, his lips urgent but measured; there was no rush, and at the same time, everything was imminent.

His hands began to descend, slowly, feeling the edge of her pajama bottoms. It was not a sudden movement, but a patient one, as if he wanted her to feel every inch of fabric giving way. The blanket brushed against her bare skin, and the girl knew, without needing to see, where he was going.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she whispered, barely parting her lips.

"Trust me," he replied in a low voice and sealed her mouth with his again.

His hand moved to the soft curve of her buttocks, caressing her with a touch that was neither accidental nor fleeting.

He moved up and down slowly, as if testing how far he could go, then, with a change of angle, his palm slid along the line of her hip, following the contour until it reached the inside of her thigh.

The change in temperature between her warm skin and the cooler air drew an involuntary sigh from Marinette, but Gabriel didn't stop; his hand moved up and down in a narrower path, concentrating the caress on a more precise, more sensitive spot. The pressure, light at first, grew in intensity until his fingers traced a more intimate contact.

The young woman tensed slightly, not out of discomfort, but because of the jolt that ran through her body. Gabriel moved his fingers over her folds, caressing her and moving his hand. She tried to keep kissing him, but soon realized that her breathing couldn't keep up. She pulled away enough to look at him, with a mixture of reproach and surrender.

"Is this your move?" she asked, her voice softer than sharp.

"You young people... always think sex works one way," he smiled, without withdrawing his hand or loosening his caress.

He kissed her again, but it was no longer a kiss for its own sake; it was a calculated distraction to accompany what he was doing with his hand, each movement seeking a clear goal: for her to feel, for her to surrender. And she, despite her initial resistance, was inevitably losing control.

His restless fingers elicited new reactions: a slight arching of her back, a stifled gasp, a firmer pressure of her fingers on him. Gabriel was completely absorbed in that moment, without reserve, enjoying every shudder he elicited from her.

The temperature between them rose like a fire fueled by the air itself; there were no pauses, no thoughts to interrupt them. It was as if they had suddenly crossed an invisible line and everything had overflowed, leaving them both trapped in a vertigo from which neither wanted to escape.

The contact ceased to be a game and became something deeper, more dizzying; he was no longer content with brushing her lips; his tongue slipped in with calculated precision, claiming space, marking his territory. 

Every touch, every slight bite, was a challenge, a reminder that he had no intention of backing down. His restless hands moved as if they couldn't decide on a single place, tracing paths over her, pausing for just a second before seeking more, pulling her closer, as if distance were an offense.

The kiss continued, scorching and hungry, until Gabriel, without warning, slid a couple of fingers inside her. Marinette let out a muffled gasp directly into his mouth, the surprise igniting a new fire that made her arch against him. He didn't stop; he moved his fingers with calculated precision, caressing every fold as if he knew the map of her body by heart.

The young woman could feel it, every touch, every slow, deep thrust of his fingers, the heat concentrated there, throbbing, until a more intense wave forced her to turn her face away, gasping for air and letting out a sigh louder than she should have.

But the man wouldn't let her. He caught her again with his lips, swallowing any sound before it escaped. 

"If they hear us, they'll catch us," he whispered against her mouth in a barely audible breath. 

She knew he was right, but pleasure was a much more difficult enemy to silence. Still, she lifted her chin as if to challenge him. 

"Is that your plan? To touch me until I come?" she murmured in a broken voice. 

He smiled against her lips, keeping the unyielding rhythm of his fingers.

"The other option is so risky that I don't even want to think about it," he said in a low, grave tone laden with irony. "And this is sex too." 

The words pierced her like another caress, and she wanted to respond, but a firmer movement cut her off mid-sentence. 

"No... not exactly..." She barely managed to say. 

Gabriel let out a soft, mocking laugh that vibrated against her skin. "What kind of men have you been with, Marinette?" He whispered, and before she could reply, he lowered his other hand to hold her by the hip, bringing her even closer to his fingers.

The heat inside her rose like an oven about to explode, and with every passing second, the struggle not to make a sound became more unbearable. He, attentive to her every attempt to escape, leaned in to seal her lips again, forcing her to swallow her own gasps, until the silence became so intense that she could hear the rapid beating of their hearts in the darkness.

The man began to move his fingers more forcefully, with a determination that mixed precision and boldness. He slid between her folds with skill, alternating soft caresses with deeper intrusions, playing with her inside as if he knew exactly where to press. But it wasn't just pleasure he was seeking; he was also trying to silence her. 

Every time she let out a moan louder than was prudent, his hand changed rhythm, pressing on a more sensitive spot or forcing her to hold her breath.

He could make her scream, he knew, but not now. He couldn't risk it.

"Too much foreplay has you so ready..." He whispered, leaning close enough for his voice to brush her ear. "If I were an idiot, I'd slide right inside you without a problem." 

She wanted to respond with her usual sharp tone, the one she always used to put him in his place, but as soon as she opened her mouth to reply, he pressed his fingers more firmly, eliciting a gasp that she had to stifle by biting her own lips. She wouldn't let him have the last word, at least not now.

Gabriel could be cruel too.

An intense tingling began to grow inside her, rising in rapid waves that threatened to break her self-control. Just as she reached her peak, he stopped, not only ceasing to move his fingers, but also withdrawing them completely, as if he wanted to cut short everything he had provoked. It was so abrupt that she was left breathless, not knowing whether to complain or insult him.

Gabriel's hands, the hands of an artist, many said. Miraculous. Perhaps they didn't realize to what extent.

He sat up calmly, as if he hadn't just left her on the edge of the abyss.

"I'll go clean up," he murmured.

And, as he announced, he got out of bed and headed for the bathroom without looking back. He was playing very dirty, giving her so much pleasure and then snatching it away like that. Cruel. Even for him.

Marinette took a deep breath, trying to make her inhalations slow and controlled, her chest rising and falling with effort, as if each heartbeat were a reminder of the moment she had just experienced. 

Well, maybe she had played too much with Gabriel and this was his revenge. But if he thought he could just walk back into her room and get away with it, he was very wrong. She would get her revenge too.

The sound of the bathroom door snapped her out of her thoughts. The man was coming back, walking with that deceptive calm, his face serene, but still with his erection awake. Without saying a word, he returned to the bed and positioned himself on top of her. Marinette opened her mouth to announce that she was leaving, but his hands were already on her legs, spreading them apart with a force that left no room for doubt.

"Didn't you say...?" She managed to ask.

"We should have future pillow talks about our previous experiences," he replied, with a tone that was somewhere between serious and suggestive.

"I heard you've only been with one woman in your entire life." 

"And you think it's all about having a penis inside you?" His tone carried a hint of annoyance and wounded pride, but his hands did not move away.

Before she could question him further, Gabriel moved lower, between her legs, and his breathing became slower, more deliberate. She knew exactly where he was going, but not how far he planned to go.

"Don't make a sound," he whispered, and there was something as soft as it was dangerous in his voice.

Marinette barely had time to process it before she felt his tongue, instead of his fingers, taking control of that already sensitive area.

The first movements sent a shiver through his entire body. He tried to press his lips together to prevent them from opening with each wave, holding his breath as if that would stifle the pleasure, but it was useless.

The man worked with an almost indecent skill, as if it were something he practiced every day, exploring every corner with precision, until he found a particular spot that ignited a surge that tensed her abdomen. The young woman had to clench her fists against the sheet to keep from losing control.

On a couple of occasions, her legs moved instinctively, almost wanting to close, but they couldn't. He was there, occupying that place, preventing her from escaping, and every time she tried, he responded with a more precise, deeper, more determined touch, forcing her to stay open for him.

Gabriel was good at it, too good, and at that moment, Marinette was certain that his tongue was good for much more than hurling hurtful comments at her. He freed one of his hands from her leg and brought it to her intimacy, gently parting her folds for more precise access, which multiplied the intensity, sending a shiver through her entire body.

It was no longer enough to press her lips together; she had to bite them hard, as if that would keep every sound that threatened to escape her inside. But he seemed determined to make it impossible for her. 

He was methodical, constant, and every time he insisted on that exact spot, the sensation skyrocketed. The bastard seemed to enjoy it, as if he knew exactly the reaction he was provoking in her and took pleasure in seeing her struggle between pleasure and the need to remain silent.

She didn't know if it was technique, instinct, or a mixture of both, but he made every movement feel precise and devastating. So much so that, without meaning to, a small sound escaped her. She hadn't pressed her lips together hard enough. Gabriel stopped for just a second, looking up at her as if to reprimand her. 

"Silence," he whispered dryly. 

And he went back to what he was doing without giving her a break. The girl wanted to blame him, to find some cutting remark that would give her back control, but the truth was that it had all started with her. First, there had been the teasing, then she had agreed to go into his room, and now she was in the middle of something that had gone too far to stop.

Her breathing became erratic, her muscles tense. Her pulse pounded in her temples. The man continued to work with precision, playing with her vulnerability, exploring every response he got from her, and repeating it viciously. 

Until the intensity became unbearable. She no longer trusted her lips to contain another sound and brought both hands up to cover her mouth. If she let out a sound louder than the last, there would be no excuse, and explaining why Gabriel was leaning into her intimacy would be an absolute disaster.

Gabriel didn't move randomly; every gesture was calculated, but that didn't make it any less intense. His tongue slid with a confidence that spoke of experience, as if he knew exactly where to stop, where to press, and where to let the movement become slower and more tempting. He didn't seem to be in a hurry; he seemed to enjoy the way Marinette trembled beneath him, as if each of her reactions were a reward.

His fingers, far from remaining still, began to attend to her clitoris with equal dedication. He caressed it with a gentle rhythm, gradually increasing the intensity, playing with just the right amount of pressure to make every fiber of the young woman's body tense even more. It was a perfect combination; his tongue provoked waves of heat and his fingers enhanced each one, raising the pleasure to a level that made her tremble.

Marinette was caught between the need to surrender and the need to remain silent. The pleasure was so great that her back arched instinctively, her feet tensed, as if her body were looking for an outlet for everything she was feeling. But her mouth was still covered by his hands, pressing hard to prevent any sound from escaping.

Inside her, the tingling grew rapidly, an unmistakable warning of what was coming. She didn't know if it was too soon or if she had lost track of time, but the only clear thing was that Gabriel was taking her straight to the edge.

The orgasm hit her with overwhelming force, forcing her to hold back every sound as if it were a vital secret. Her hands pressed harder against her mouth, preventing any treacherous moans from escaping, while her whole body vibrated in a mixture of tension and release. Gabriel stopped right there, satisfied, as if he knew he had achieved exactly what he wanted.

The man slid slowly toward her, his chest still heaving, but with that arrogant confidence that never left him. He looked at her closely, as if he wanted to engrave every detail in his memory: the blush on her cheeks, her ragged breathing, the tension still vibrating in her body. 

Marinette, her lips parted and her gaze cloudy, still felt the waves of pleasure coursing through her. She tried to compose herself, covering with her hands what she couldn't hide, how much she had enjoyed it.

"You know I was magnificent, right?" he said proudly with a half-smile. 

The young woman looked away for a moment, annoyed, pressing her lips together, her eyes sparkling with contained anger, because she couldn't contradict him. He was right, and that certainty burned her more than the arrogance of his comment.

Gabriel, staying close, leaning against her side, tilted his face slightly and gently caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. The harshness of his tone did not match the delicacy of that gesture.

"Look at how you've become..." He whispered, with a hint of tenderness that did not quite belong to him.

She slowly removed her hands from her mouth and exhaled a heavy sigh. 

"I have to go," she announced in a low, almost evasive voice. 

He tilted his head, a spark of displeasure in his eyes, even though he knew she was right. The night would not last forever, although for a moment he wished it would.

"Too bad," he murmured in a tone that bordered on tender, though still laden with pride. "I could get used to seeing you like this." 

Gabriel then brought his lips close to hers, so close that his breath mingled with hers, but he did not kiss her. He stopped halfway, letting his gaze speak, asking for permission he did not dare to utter.

Marinette held his gaze for a few seconds, as if evaluating what she was about to do. Then it was she who leaned in, who closed the distance and sought his mouth. Their lips melted into a kiss that sealed the intensity of that night and an inevitable and perfect ending. 

Notes:

I really didn't expect the chapter to be so long, honestly. When I saw the word count, I thought I had gone a little overboard.

Once again, I apologize for the delay, not only because of the length, but also because I was a little ill. However, I hope the next chapter won't take me as long or require as many words.

As for the chapter, I wanted his first time to have the inconvenience of condoms, as there will always be an inconvenience with them.

I hope you enjoyed it. Truly.

Chapter 17: Because desire also knows revenge.

Summary:

Gabriel and Marinette continue to grow closer, as Marinette begins to learn a little more about Gabriel and his upbringing.

Marinette was outside Gabriel's bedroom door, ready to care for him. Her stomach was still churning; last night's activity had been quite intense, especially for her, who had enjoyed most of the pleasure. Her legs were tingling, but she remained steadfast. 

As the minutes passed, however, the young woman began to feel uneasy. Gabriel wasn't coming out. It was already several minutes past his usual time, and there was no sign of him. Had he fallen asleep? Perhaps, but she had left him to rest. Had it been too much? The man was already quite old, and she had never been with an older man before. Could he have been exhausted?

Now she had too many questions. Marinette moved from her spot and stood before the door, trying to hear something, but it was ridiculous. If he were still asleep, she wouldn't hear anything. Was he okay?

Maybe she was overreacting. She had barely slept, but not because she was tired, but because of the feeling of having experienced something forbidden, something that should never have happened, and yet she longed to repeat.

Her heart skipped a beat. What if he hadn't gotten up because he was hurt? What if she had exhausted him too much? She remembered his heavy breathing, the way his hands had held her, and at the same time, she couldn't help thinking, what if he hadn't been able to resist? 

The girl bit her lip. It was ridiculous, but her anxiety was mixed with anticipation. She moved forward and pressed her ear against the door, as if that would give her answers. Nothing. Only silence.

She took a deep breath, and at that moment she heard the voice of her communicator. 

"Marinette, did you hear something? You've moved from your position." 

She hesitated, about to say no and return to her position, but this could be her excuse to find out if Gabriel was okay. 

"I think... I heard something," she replied confidently, even though inside she was burning with anxiety. "I'm going in to make sure." 

"Okay. Report if you see anything unusual." 

"I will." 

The young woman didn't wait any longer. She turned the handle without touching it, and the door gave way with a slight click. The darkness of the room enveloped her immediately, the air still permeated with a scent that sent a shiver down her spine, his perfume mixed with the memory of his skin.

Marinette entered silently, her pulse racing. She didn't know if she was afraid to find him asleep, exhausted, or if deep down she wanted his eyes to open and catch her again, like the night before.

But she found him standing not far from the door, as if he had calculated that moment exactly.

"I thought it would take you longer to want to come in," he admitted with a half-smile. "But once again, you surprise me, Marinette." 

"Is everything okay?" she asked, although at first glance nothing seemed out of place.

Gabriel didn't answer right away. He took a couple of steps and, without warning, wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her toward him.

"Worried about me?" he murmured close to her ear.

"I'm supposed to be looking after you," she replied seriously, although the confidence in her voice faltered for just a moment.

"It's hard to want to talk to you with all those cameras on you." 

At that moment, she realized that he had planned everything. He had waited for her to come in since he wasn't coming out, just to force her to come in and have her all to himself.

"You shouldn't have done that," she scolded him.

The man simply leaned in and kissed her. Without preamble, without asking permission, it was an intense, voracious kiss that reignited the spark that had been burning since the night before. He wasn't looking to go any further, but it was enough to turn her stomach and leave her breathless. She welcomed him, caught between surprise and desire.

She had kissed Gabriel's lips many times during the night, and yet it felt as if it were never enough, as if each contact opened up a new, deeper, and more demanding hunger.

The pressure of his mouth against hers is intense, and the young woman, despite everything, loses herself in the way their lips fit together, in the way they brush against each other, in the rhythm he naturally imposes. Their mouths seek each other out, recognize each other, and respond with a need that grows with every passing second.

But she remembers where they are. A pang of conscience pierces her, forcing her to pull away slightly. 

"Wait... I just came to check," she whispered, her heart racing. 

"Don't worry. I'm not going to fuck you now," he smiled cheekily.

"You wouldn't have the courage," she challenged him, trying to hide the heat in her face.

"I didn't hear many complaints last night," he replied.

Marinette's cheeks burned like fire. The mere mention of it was enough to bring back the memory of what had happened, igniting that expectant spark deep inside her. The worst part was that, deep down, a part of her wanted him to contradict himself, to make her denial just a game.

The man leaned in again, but this time he didn't seek her lips. He brushed her cheek, then the corner of her ear, and calmly descended toward her neck. Each touch was a slow fire, a caress disguised as provocation.

"I wanted to ask you a favor... without prying ears," he whispered against her skin.

"What kind of favor?" She stifled a shudder, feigning irritation.

"It's not what you're thinking." 

"And how would you know what I'm thinking?" 

"Your body tells me." He smiled against her neck. 

He was right. It was as if her own body, with a will of its own, was offering itself to the man, brazenly remembering what they had shared hours earlier and demanding what they had not yet consummated. 

Marinette denied it silently; she would not give him the satisfaction of admitting it. But he already knew. He continued with that slow, sensual game, as if each touch of his could elicit confessions that she swore she would not give.

The girl felt his closeness weighing on her skin, the brazen way he could touch her without asking permission, and at the same time force her to react.

"I need you to buy condoms." His voice enveloped her like a sharp whisper. 

The young woman looked at him in disbelief, although a wry smile appeared on her lips to hide what that simple phrase had really provoked in her.

"It's good to see you're not an old-fashioned man," she said mockingly, trying to hide the spark that burned inside her.

"I never have been," he arched an eyebrow. "I was raised differently," he replied casually. 

"That's a lie," she replied without hesitation. "You're totally a rich, spoiled man." 

His smile tilted with a certain arrogance. "It's true, my parents weren't even married, for that reason. We don't follow the rules." 

Marinette said nothing, noticing how a strange undertone crept into his voice every time he spoke of his parents. She preferred to keep up the initial game, the same one that seemed to keep them dangerously close to something more.

"Asking a woman to buy condoms breaks the mold," she admitted in a soft but mischievous voice.

"I would do it myself, but if I leave my house, I have to go out with you guys. Wouldn't it look strange if I bought condoms? No women visit me," he defended himself quickly, but with that spark of mockery he never lost. 

Damn it, he was right. She knew it right away, because if anyone else noticed the purchase, it would raise suspicion. He couldn't order them online either, as the checks were constant. The young woman had to press her lips together to avoid giving him the immediate satisfaction of admitting it.

"All right." She finally gave in, almost reluctantly.

Gabriel seized the moment like a predator sensing weakness in its prey. He smiled cheekily, leaning just enough for the warmth of his breath to brush against her.

"I expected more questions, but you really want me to take you tonight." 

Marinette stood up straight, her cheeks burning like embers, trying to hide the shiver that ran through her.

"That's not true," she spat out quickly, her tone harsher than she intended.

"Why do you insist on calling me a liar?" he murmured, bringing his mouth close to the curve of her ear, barely touching it, as if he knew that gesture would disarm her.

The girl knew that what she had just denied was the only thing she wanted. Gabriel did not pull away immediately; on the contrary, he leaned in a little closer, forcing her to feel his breath brush against the curve of her neck.

The man tilted his head toward her neck, leaving a slow kiss, barely a touch, but full of intention. Then another, lower down, and one more next to her ear. The young woman tensed, her breathing betraying her. It wasn't an assault, it wasn't wild, it was pure control. It was Gabriel showing that he could make her stagger with just a gesture.

"You see, Marinette," he whispered mischievously, "I could make you lose your balance whenever I wanted." 

She clenched her jaw, but the mischievous smile escaped her. She was burning inside and she knew it. She hated him for provoking her like this, but she hated herself even more for letting herself be drawn into this game.

"That was all," he replied with feigned indifference, pulling away slightly. "I'm sorry if I disappointed you." 

Marinette turned her face toward him, as if deciding to attack with elegance. Her lips were dangerously close to his.

"You haven't disappointed me yet," she said, like a confession disguised as a challenge. 

The girl brought her fingers to her own neck, making a slow, sensual gesture that ignited more than it extinguished. Her eyes never left his. 

"Don't be long... breakfast is getting cold," she added. 

That movement was a direct dagger to his self-control. He narrowed his eyes, amused, wanting to catch her in his arms again, but he let her escape only because he wanted to prolong the game.

Marinette pulled away, even though she knew every muscle in her body was trembling with desire. She opened the door, walked out without looking back, and returned to her post as if nothing had happened.

But that wasn't true. Nothing was the same.

She pressed the communicator; now she had to appear normal. 

"There was a slight delay, nothing serious. He'll be ready in a few moments," she announced. 

"Okay," Renaud replied on the other end.

The young woman lowered her hand with a sigh, forcing herself to maintain her composure. She pretended to be normal, but every fiber of her body was on fire, as if her skin still remembered his touch.

She bit her lower lip, thinking about how close she had been to giving in. How much she had wanted him to kiss her, to push her a little further, to not let her go.

"Damn you," she murmured, unable to suppress a bitter smile.

The young woman closed her eyes for a second, clenching her fists to keep from blushing. That complicity was killing her. Just one night and they already had that secret language, that dangerous edge between desire and duty.

Marinette couldn't understand why, but the truth was that she expected it. She expected it more than she would ever admit.

 

---

 

The rest of the day passed much faster than Marinette had expected. The tension of the morning seemed to have compressed the hours, dragging her into the night without giving her a break. Now, in the room, the silence weighed on her more than ever. She was sitting on the bed, cell phone in hand, and although she tried to distract herself, all she did was wait. Wait for that message.

Gabriel hadn't needed her company for several hours; she didn't know what he was doing, whether he was resting, working, or simply on the other side of the house thinking the same thing as her.

When her cell phone vibrated in her fingers, a shock ran through her body. Marinette resisted the urge to open the message immediately; doing so would be too obvious, too anxious, desperate? Damn it, what's wrong with him? She pressed her lips together, even though deep down she knew the answer. 

All the pressure that had built up during the day had found that exact moment to seep out in the form of anxiety.

The young woman opened the message. Gabriel was as direct as ever.

"You can come now."

Marinette swallowed hard, her fingers responding with a curt, almost dry reply, but necessary to cover the emotion rising in her chest.

She put her phone aside and took a deep breath. She put on a jacket, not because she was cold, but because in one of its pockets she carried the small packet of condoms she had bought. A detail that reminded her that this time, she was willing to go further.

Marinette slipped out of her room with the familiarity of someone who already knew every shadow, every corner of the darkness in that house.

She walked, dodging cameras, letting the darkness cover her, until she reached the garden. From there, she leaned under Gabriel's window and began to climb skillfully. As always, the window was open, waiting for her.

But what she found when she entered was not what she expected.

Gabriel did not run to her, he did not get up to take her immediately in his arms. The man was sitting on the bed, waiting for her, his torso naked, his skin illuminated by the dim light of the room, his eyes fixed on her as if they had been following her from the moment she left her room.

Marinette stopped at the foot of the window, unable to move forward. Her pulse was racing, and that mixture of nervousness and anticipation made her stomach feel like a knot.

The young woman didn't approach him; she remained there, not daring to go to him.

"Why don't you come here? I don't bite too hard." He held her gaze for a few seconds. 

A sudden heat rose in Marinette's chest. She took a couple of steps, feeling every movement being watched closely, until she managed to get close to the bed. She sat down next to him with apparent naturalness, as if she weren't about to explode inside.

The man did nothing, he didn't touch her, he just watched her silently, and that silence was as appealing as it was dangerous.

"I brought the condoms." She took them out of her jacket and held them in her hands, not knowing what to do. 

"You're obedient when you need to be." He teased with a crooked smile. 

"I have to follow your orders. Remember how this works?" She didn't let herself be intimidated. 

"So, can I order you to do whatever I want?" He tilted his head slightly, taking advantage. 

"It's not my turn, so no." She replied quickly, "I should be sleeping so I can take care of an idiot in the morning." 

Gabriel wasn't offended; he didn't get offended anymore. That didn't mean anyone could call him an idiot and get away with it, but with Marinette it was different. She did it on purpose, like when she called him sir, and she turned it into a game that he enjoyed more than he would admit.

"I like to give orders," he confessed in a low voice, "but I don't expect you to follow everything I say." 

He brought his hands close to hers, barely touching them, until he held the condoms. She thought he was going to kiss her; she felt it in the way his chest was getting closer, but no, Gabriel stretched to put them on the nightstand with a slow movement.

"You're very nervous." His expression changed. 

Marinette swallowed hard, not knowing what to do with her hands. She was too nervous, and that frustrated her.

"That's not good," he added, this time more seriously. "I'm not ordering you to have sex with me." 

His words disarmed her suddenly. He didn't want her to feel obligated, and for a moment she thought he was misinterpreting her nerves.

"It's not that," she replied quickly, almost cutting him off. "It's just that..." 

He watched her, waiting patiently, but without softening the intensity in his eyes. "Just what?" he asked, to be sure.

"Yes, I do," she whispered, so softly that he could barely hear her.

But it didn't sound confident, and Gabriel noticed. He hesitated, because he didn't want to have sex with her if she wasn't convinced. However, what he didn't see was that Marinette wasn't unsure about wanting it, but terrified of how much she wanted it.

She was afraid to admit it; how much she wanted Gabriel to take her, how much she was waiting for him. It burned inside her, but she wasn't going to say it out loud. With Gabriel, it was hard enough to resist the tremor he caused her with a simple touch; confessing that she was dying to feel him inside her was too much.

Marinette had her pride, and that pride was her last defense against the damn game Gabriel played so well.

"Was it because I asked you for condoms?" he asked, with that irony that made him unbearable.

The young woman almost wanted to hit him right then and there. Sometimes, he really was an idiot. She looked at him angrily, biting her tongue to keep from exploding.

"No... no," she snorted, frustrated. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you?" 

"Just spit it out," he demanded calmly, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

Marinette clenched her fists, but she couldn't blame him either; she was being too mysterious. 

"I really want to have sex with you." Her words were laden with desire. "I really want it, Gabriel." 

"You really wanted me to fuck you this morning, didn't you?" He smiled with that damn smugness that drove her crazy.

The man didn't give her time to deny it or give him another one of her sharp answers. Gabriel threw himself at her lips, and the world shattered.

The kiss was not a caress; it was fire. Their mouths collided hungrily, with the fury of everything they had kept silent. Gabriel kissed her intensely, his lips moving over hers with a fierce and desperate rhythm. There was no tenderness, only raw, burning passion that took her breath away.

She responded with equal eagerness, even more so. She grabbed his neck tightly, pulling him toward her as if she feared he would pull away, as if his mouth were the only place she could breathe. Her lips parted under his, seeking more, demanding more, and her tongue found his in a wet collision that ignited her entire body.

The contact smelled of desire, tasted of heat, of urgency. Marinette devoured him, biting him gently, teasing him, and the man responded with equal intensity, letting himself be carried away by her boldness. His hands slid down to her waist, holding her, while hers explored his back, his shoulders, his muscles, without letting go, without giving him respite.

The touch, the pressure, the moisture of her lips against his, everything was fire spreading uncontrollably.

The young woman was bolder than ever; she tilted her head, deepened the kiss, dictated the pace, as if taking the reins and signaling to Gabriel that, at least in that moment, she wanted everything, without reserve. 

She couldn't remember the last time she had wanted someone so much, not even the night before, which had been incredible. And perhaps that was the reason for her anxiety, the certainty that tonight would be even better. 

But she couldn't show it. Gabriel was already arrogant, an insufferable bastard, and if he knew how much she wanted him, he would never stop pressing that point.

Even so, in that kiss, she was the one who showed more hunger. She was the one who held him tight, who pushed him, who devoured him without fear. It was the kind of kiss that erased doubts, broke down barriers, and set the stage for the inevitable.

Marinette caresses him, her fingers boldly tracing every line of his torso, as if she wants to memorize it through his warm skin. She does it with a provocative rhythm, slow at first, but each caress becomes hungrier, seeking to ignite him, to set him on fire beyond his control.

The man responds, his hands sliding forcefully around her waist, not wanting to be left behind, but the young woman is too sensual. Her lips don't just kiss; they bite, lick, cling to his eagerly, as if taking his breath away. Gabriel tried to dominate the kiss, to squeeze, to mark his territory, but she dragged him deeper, setting the pace with her mouth, with her soft but daring lips, with her hands exploring his back and moving down a little further. Marinette ignites him on all fronts.

The kiss becomes a mutual exploration; at times they bite each other, they caress each other, and when Gabriel thinks he has taken control, Marinette takes it back, with a movement of her tongue that makes him let out a low moan. She enjoys it, feeds on it, on his momentary vulnerability.

"You're going to make me take you right now," he murmured against her lips, his voice hoarse and provocative. 

"Do it, I want to feel you inside me," she replied with an even bolder whisper, her words brushing his burning mouth. 

The words hit him like a whip, leaving him stunned. Gabriel opened his eyes for a moment, shocked by the explicitness, by the raw desire in her voice. The young woman, instead of stopping, kissed him more deeply, taking advantage of his confusion, intensifying the rubbing of her lips and body against his.

"Why don't you beg me, Marinette?" Excited, he tried to return the game, his hands moving down more decisively, trapping her against him.

"I don't have to beg for anything," she laughed against his mouth. 

The contact is unbroken, still a clash of mouths, breaths, desperate caresses. She corners him with her tongue and her words, and he, far from giving up, seeks to match her.

But Marinette is always one step ahead, leading the fire, making Gabriel, the arrogant idiot impossible to break, feel cornered by her brazen sensuality.

The girl clung to him with a boldness that disarmed him. Her hands traveled shamelessly over his bare chest, tracing every muscle with her fingertips, squeezing here, brushing there, until she drew a deep gasp from him. The man tried to grab her waist to assert control, but every time he did, she slipped her lips onto his neck, biting just where she knew he would lose his balance.

The kiss was a battlefield; Gabriel wanted to dominate her, bite her lips, pull her in forcefully, but she wouldn't let him. She devoured him relentlessly, with daring movements of her tongue that left him breathless. 

"You're going to turn me into a damn animal," he growled against her mouth. 

"That's what I want, for you to fuck me like nothing else exists." She smiled cheekily, biting his lower lip. 

The words hit him like a blow. Gabriel held her tight, digging his fingers into her hips, surprised by the rawness, by the directness of her desire. He tried to fight back, kissing her with a brutality that made her moan into his mouth. 

"You're going to end up begging me to stop." 

"I already told you that I don't beg, much less for sex." She laughed, daring, barely interrupting the kiss to brush his ear with her lips. 

The man let out a growl, his body burning. He kissed her again with rage and hunger, his tongue colliding with hers in a back-and-forth that was as much a struggle as it was surrender. His hands had already slipped beneath her clothes, caressing her boldly, but Marinette was not far behind, her fingers tracing the line of his abdomen, moving dangerously lower, teasing him with every touch.

"I'd rip your clothes off, but how would you look climbing down my window naked?" He gasped, trying to regain ground.

The young woman pressed herself closer to him, deliberately rubbing her body against his, hot and bold. 

"I'd rather walk out the door in that case," she replied, her lips still pressed against his. 

He looked at her in disbelief at what he had just heard, and that same disbelief turned into pure desire. He continued to kiss her desperately, as if he wanted to devour her, but she did not give in; on the contrary, she played with him, provoking him with moans that seemed more like invitations to lose his mind.

"You're a bitch," he murmured, almost voiceless. 

"You're a bastard." 

The words were like fire. Gabriel tried to dominate her, his hands urgently exploring her body, but the girl always found a way to turn the tables, to touch him in just the right place so that he was the one who lost control. 

Marinette was the spark, the living flame. The man responded with force, with hunger, but she always went one step further, too daring, too sensual, dragging him into an abyss that neither of them wanted to leave.

Her skin was hot, soft, and the simple touch made him growl against her mouth. Marinette arched her back to give him space, but instead of staying still, she took the opportunity to press her knee between his legs, rubbing herself against him mischievously.

Gabriel had to stop the kiss for a second, resting his forehead on hers, breathing heavily.

"You're the real devil," he whispered, his voice broken.

"Have you never been touched, Gabriel?" She laughed, brushing her lips against his before slowly biting him again. 

As she spoke, her hands descended boldly down his abdomen to the edge of his pants. She didn't open them, not yet; she just played with the waistband, barely slipping her fingers inside, brushing against him, pulling away, as if she enjoyed the torture. Gabriel trembled under her provocation, and out of pure instinct, he sank his hands higher inside her blouse, caressing her, squeezing her with need.

The moan that escaped Marinette was pure fire, but instead of giving in, she leaned closer to him, their bodies brushing against each other. The young woman bit his neck, leaving a wet trail with her tongue, and gasped there, teasingly.

"I love feeling you get hard against me." 

Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, holding back a moan, as his hands moved desperately over the bare skin of her back.

"You're going to drive me crazy..." 

Marinette smiled against his neck and pressed her knee harder between his legs, rubbing him slowly, enjoying every reaction.

"That's what I want."

The man couldn't take it anymore. He kissed her furiously, one hand on her waist and the other already moving up to her chest under her blouse, grabbing him tightly. The girl moaned into the kiss, but far from slowing down, she brazenly slipped her hand into his pants, not all the way, just enough to brush against his sensitive skin and pull away immediately.

He let out a rough gasp, and she watched him with that mischievous smile, her lips red from the kisses.

"Do you like me playing with you like this?" 

Gabriel held her tight, as if he wanted to immobilize her, but she freed herself with a quick movement and kissed him again, more dirty, more deeply, biting his tongue, sucking his lip until he gasped.

He trembled with desire, caught between her caresses and her words, her hands roaming his entire body under his clothes, her fingers marking his skin with every squeeze, her lips devouring him relentlessly. But the young woman always went one step further; her knees, her hands, her mouth, everything about her was a blatant challenge, a fire that consumed him.

The man held her close to him, but it was the girl who was in control; her hands moved slowly, brazenly, exploring his chest, calmly descending to the edge of his pants only to withdraw and leave him trembling.

He growled against her lips, squeezing her waist tightly, his hands desperate on her bare skin

"You're messing with my head," he gasped hoarsely.

Marinette bit his lip until it bled a little and smiled with that fiery look.

"You've always been like this, don't you think?" 

Her knee pressed between his legs again, rubbing against him, and he let out a low, broken moan that was so real that she smiled with satisfaction.

"You're a damn witch," he said hoarsely, kissing her lower, sucking her skin until he left marks. "And I swear I'm going to fuck you so hard that you won't forget how you begged me." 

Marinette moaned, a sound that set the air ablaze, but she immediately arched against him, more dominant than ever, squeezing her thigh between his legs to rub herself too, panting cheekily in his ear.

"Are you one of those who swear in vain?" 

The man could no longer contain himself, his hands running over her violently, lifting her blouse until he ripped it off. His lips were swollen from kissing her.

"It still surprises me how much you want this." He spat with a crooked smile before kissing her again furiously, his hands squeezing her breasts, playing with her until she let out a loud moan.

His hands no longer stopped, clothes began to fall to the floor amid tugs and broken laughter. The young woman continued to dominate, mounting him with a moan, but Gabriel responded with a brutality he never showed, biting her, talking dirty to her, moaning against her skin.

"Because I can't believe that such a tough young woman is trembling in my arms," he growled as he took her forcefully, his voice hoarse and desperate. "Couldn't you keep quiet on the first day?"

The young woman arched against him, panting heavily, the smile still on her lips even though the passion was already drawing more intense moans from her.

"I suspected you were an idiot, and I wasn't wrong." 

Then the tension broke; Gabriel gently pushed her toward the bed, making her fall backward onto the sheets. His body followed the movement with precision, landing on top of her, trapping her under the weight of his naked torso. His hands rested on either side of her face, cornering her, his legs blocking hers. 

"You can't escape now." He smiled arrogantly. "Now you're where I want you." 

Marinette let out a low laugh, that laugh of hers that mixed mockery and desire, tilting her head slightly as if enjoying her supposed imprisonment, her lips brushing the man's cheek with insolence. 

"Do you really think this will stop me?" Her hands moved up his back, her nails barely scratching his skin. "I could break free in a second. Do you want me to prove it to you?" 

Gabriel's eyes flashed dangerously. He wanted to admit it out loud, but he knew she could. Even so, he refused to give her that victory. He tightened his grip, lowering his hips to hold her more tightly.

"No," he declared, brushing his mouth against hers, their hot breath mingling. "This time, you're staying right where I want you."

The young woman laughed softly, gently biting his lower lip.

"Gabriel, we both know who's stronger. Do you want your arm to suffer again?" she whispered mischievously.

The words ignited Gabriel; he didn't want to be left behind. He slid his hands down, brushing against the warm skin of her waist and slowly moving upward, torturing her with every caress. She arched her body toward him, moaning softly to provoke him further.

"If you keep talking like that..." he murmured hoarsely, "I'll shut you up the only way I know how." 

The young woman laughed again, with that boldness that drove him crazy, and brought her lips close to his ear, brushing them with her tongue. 

"You've never been able to shut me up," she said in a completely cheeky tone that left him frozen for a moment. 

Gabriel felt the air leave him at the audacity of those words. He tightened his grip on her body, leaning over her with a force that brooked no argument. His lips descended to her neck, biting more roughly than usual, marking his territory with every touch of his teeth. His hands grabbed the young woman's wrists and pinned them to the sheets, immobilizing her.

"I warned you," he growled against her skin. "This time you have no escape." 

The girl let out a low moan, somewhere between pleasure and mockery, her eyes shining with a spark that challenged him even more. The smile on her lips was pure fire.

"Gabriel, do you really think you can keep me still?" she asked in a whisper full of provocation. "It's adorable that you're trying." 

"I've got you right where I want you, and now you're going to endure every damn second of it." He pressed her wrists harder against the bed, lowering his voice to a dirty whisper.

Marinette arched her back, pushing her body against him in a way that made him curse under his breath. She took advantage of that moment of distraction, and with a movement as quick as it was calculated, she freed one hand and grabbed him by the back of his neck, forcing him down even further on top of her. Her lips caught him fiercely, biting, kissing, sucking until she stole a moan from him that he tried to stifle against her mouth.

When the man reacted, the young woman had already turned him over with an unexpected twist of her hips. Now she was on top, her hair falling over his face, her hands running over his chest as if claiming him entirely.

"See?" she whispered in that burning voice of hers. "So easy." 

Gabriel looked at her with a very strange mixture of rage and pure desire. He tried to regain control, pushing his hips up to dominate her again, but Marinette dug her nails into his shoulders and pinned him to the mattress. She leaned toward his ear, brushing it with her lips and tongue.

"You're so much taller and heavier, and yet you can't do it. What a disappointment..."

Her words pierced him like electric fire. Gabriel, against all instinct, let out a hoarse, rough, but very low laugh. 

"Do you think that makes me feel inferior? What man wouldn't like a young woman on top of him?" He replied in a vulgar tone. 

"Some men are so narrow-minded," she whispered mockingly. "I thought you'd be one of them." 

He narrowed his eyes, swallowing heavily, his chest rising and falling sharply. The smile he gave her was dark, almost sarcastic.

"I already told you," he muttered with a dry laugh. "I wasn't raised that way." 

Marinette laughed softly, caressing his jaw with her fingertips, as if studying a curious object.

"Please, Gabriel," she replied cheekily, "you, the man who always thinks he's superior, who looks down on everyone else, and now you want me to believe that you weren't taught to despise what you can't control? Do you really expect me to believe you?" 

The spark in her eyes was liquid fire, and Gabriel knew it. She was calling him a liar, playing with his pride.

"Do you doubt my upbringing?" He clenched his jaw. "It's the truth."

"Liar." She tilted her head, her lips barely brushing his, but not quite kissing him.

The man exhaled sharply, and for a moment the mask of calm broke. His hands, which until then had let her play, closed around her waist. In a single, sharp, decisive movement, he turned her around, causing the young woman's back to sink into the sheets.

Now he was on top of her, his eyes locked on hers, shining with a flash of wounded pride.

"Is that what you think?" He growled in a low voice, with an edge that burned more than any caress. "That I'm a phony?" 

Marinette smiled, still underneath him, breathing heavily but with the same defiant sparkle.

"I do, yes." 

That answer ignited him like gasoline. Gabriel held her, not violently, but with that controlled roughness that reminded her who had the power now. He lowered himself against her neck and bit it with that rage mixed with desire that made him mark her without thinking. His hands roamed her body with enough force to make her gasp, an inevitable moan that betrayed her earlier mockery.

"Never call me a liar," he whispered through clenched teeth, licking the mark he had just left. "I hate that."

The girl let out a moan, frowning as she brought her hand to the place where he had bitten her.

"Really?" she whispered, somewhere between annoyed and tempted, running her fingers over the sensitive skin of his neck. "If you left a mark on me, I swear I'll..." 

"No one calls me a liar," he replied cheekily, as if the bite had been a warning rather than a whim.

"You're acting like a child," she said, giving him an annoyed look. 

"Maybe," he murmured, leaning over her to steal a quick, wet kiss that barely left her with his taste before he pulled away abruptly. "But I don't care." His voice, raspy and heavy with desire, was the only sign before he moved. 

Gabriel slid his hands decisively to the waistband of her pants, his breath trembling with urgency. The young woman sat up slightly, her hand still on his neck, as if she were still debating between complaining or letting herself be swept away by that fire.

But his gesture was too eloquent: with a confident tug, he removed the fabric covering him, as if he had been waiting for this moment for hours. The garment fell to the floor without resistance, leaving him exposed, without barriers, and without a trace of shame.

The man stood up in front of her, pride painted on his face, his body tense, and the evidence of his desire impossible to hide. His breathing was ragged, the muscles in his abdomen marked by the effort to restrain himself, and yet there was a haughty gesture in him, a silent challenge.

"Look at me," he ordered, making it clear that he wanted to be observed, admired.

She did, her eyes tracing every line of his body, lingering on what he was brazenly displaying; his penis, erect and well-endowed, was large. She didn't know how large it was; she didn't know the exact size a penis should be, but it was a good size, and it had the ideal thickness. 

If Gabriel was so conceited, he obviously had a penis to show off. He really was a bastard.

"I knew it would leave you speechless," he smiled arrogantly. 

Marinette looked at him with a raised eyebrow, her hand still on his neck.

"And tell me, Gabriel, what is a woman supposed to say when a man shows off his penis?" She let out a low, mocking laugh. "In the end, it's just an erection." 

His smile widened like that of a predator who had just heard a challenge. Without looking away, he leaned in again, pressing his full weight against her, making sure to press his erection between their bodies. The young woman held her breath when she felt it, so obvious and brazen.

"A smart woman should admit she's impressed, or at least that she wants it as much as I do," he whispered in her ear, with that arrogance boiling in his blood.

She snorted, even though her cheeks were burning. "Impressed?" she repeated, her voice tinged with irony. "I'm afraid I'm at a loss for words, but not for the reason you think." 

He slowly moved his hips against hers, making her feel every inch of his desire. "Admit it, Marinette," he murmured, brushing her lips. "You like feeling how hard I am for you." 

The girl wanted to reply, but the pressure against her made her bite her lip. Her fingers, almost without realizing it, slid toward him, boldly groping the erection he displayed so proudly. Gabriel let out a hoarse, restrained moan that escaped him like a secret impossible to hide.

Marinette tensed and gave him a slight push with her free hand. "Shh!" she scolded him in a fierce whisper. "Do you want us to be discovered?" 

"Then don't tease me like that... or I won't be able to keep quiet." 

"Childish," she murmured, though her fingers continued to play with him, slowly, dangerously.

He closed his eyes for a second, swallowing hard, and pressed his erection against her again, as if to challenge her resistance.

"When you first arrived," he murmured, pressing a little harder against her, "you said you wanted this. Or don't you want it anymore?" 

"You're showing off your erection too much, Gabriel," she said with sharp mockery. "Is there some hidden trauma you should tell me about?" 

The comment could have crushed anyone, but not him. Gabriel didn't swallow the poison of her mockery, not for a second. On the contrary, a dark and determined spark flashed in his eyes. His breathing deepened, and as if his body demanded action, he moved away from her just a little.

"Then I hope your words are true," he whispered in a deep voice.

The man removed what little fabric remained on her, leaving her exposed to his gaze and touch. His hand slid to the nightstand, where he had left what he knew would happen sooner or later. He took a condom, opened it with precision, and put it on with slow, measured movements, as if enjoying the ritual of waiting.

Once ready, he turned back to her. His face leaned down until it barely brushed her ear.

"Tell me if it's too much for you," he murmured, his voice deep and silky, like a promise and a threat at the same time.

He sought her lips, not a passionate kiss, not yet. He simply placed his mouth on hers, lips against lips, soft, pressed together, as if the intimacy would begin there. And in that delicate union, he guided his erection to her entrance, brushing against her first, feeling his way as if measuring the terrain. Then, little by little, he began to sink into her.

Marinette felt it immediately; the kiss gave him away. Her breath broke against his mouth as he continued to enter, inch by inch, until he was completely inside her. She didn't need words: her nails dug into the skin of his back and her teeth caught his lower lip, eliciting a shudder from him.

Gabriel pulled away for a second, with the arrogant smile of someone who knows he has already won. "Remember, you can't make any noise," he warned in a whisper that sounded like an order.

The man settled on top of her, adjusting his hands on her waist, and made the first movement of his hips. He moved in and out slowly, with a measured, almost provocative rhythm, as if he were marking his territory. It was the beginning of everything, their first time together, and even in the gentleness of his movements, it was clear that he would never let her forget it.

He remained inside her, moving with that slow, deliberate cadence, as if each thrust were a way of reminding her who was in control. Gabriel raised his back, settling himself better on top of her, and in the same movement, he let his mouth lean over her neck, trapping her in that suffocating sway. His breath was deep, hot against her skin, and every word he spoke seemed more like a burning touch than a simple whisper.

"You're not going to deny that you love feeling my erection inside you," he murmured, with that dangerous arrogance running through his voice.

The young woman closed her eyes, stifling the moan that escaped her lips. She bit her lip, trying to appear cold even though she was burning up inside.

"It's nothing new," she replied mockingly, though her voice trembled slightly.

He smiled against her neck, arrogant, continuing to move slowly, each thrust a precise reminder of his dominance. The way he filled her, with that thickness and measured force, was a scorching caress that forced her to arch her back without being able to help herself. And yet she refused to give him that verbal victory.

"You're lying," he whispered, setting the pace with his hips. "Your lips say one thing, but your body screams it at me." 

The girl dug her fingers into his back, scratching him with contained rage, wanting to silence him, wanting to deny him the triumph. But the precise pressure of his penis inside her, that slow torture, disarmed her.

She knew it, Gabriel was too good. Too arrogant. He knew exactly where to push, how to move his hips to elicit the pleasure she was trying to hide.

Marinette just shut up, although her bitten lips and dug-in nails said it all. The man laughed again, satisfied, enjoying this silent war where, for the moment, he had the advantage.

The rhythm began to change. Gabriel, without losing the necessary discretion, intensified his movements; he wasn't fast, he couldn't risk making a noise that would give away what was happening between them, but he was deeper, firmer, enough that she had to hold the voice in her throat. Each thrust forced her to close her lips, to clench her teeth, because what she really wanted was to let out a moan that should not exist.

Her breathing became agitated, her shoulders trembled slightly with the effort of resisting, and yet she enjoyed it. The man knew how to move, how to maintain the exact balance between discretion and intensity, how to reach the point where her body could no longer ignore him. 

Marinette, her pride intact, convinced herself that the reason for her reaction was not Gabriel. It had been a long time, too long since the last time, which was why she was like this, at least that's what she told herself, like a shield that barely resisted the onslaught of her body igniting with every movement.

"It's hard for you to even breathe, isn't it?" he whispered maliciously, raising his voice slightly against her ear.

The girl pressed her lips together, struggling to sound confident, even though every word was difficult to get out. "Shut up... It's not because of you." 

The comment irritated him. He could sense the falsehood in those words, the ridiculous pride she preferred to maintain rather than acknowledge the obvious. A crooked smile appeared on his face and, as if planning a punishment, Gabriel moved away from her neck, standing upright, with determination marked in each of his movements.

Suddenly, he grabbed one of her legs and lifted it, positioning it so that the angle became even deeper. He readjusted his own body, bringing his knees to rest on the bed, dominating the new position with calculated precision. And there, each new thrust became more intense, deeper, more difficult to resist.

The man did not change the cadence, neither too slow nor too fast, but strong and devastating enough for her to bite her lip hard, unable to utter a reply. Her breathless gasps, her fingers clenched in the sheets, everything betrayed what she was trying to hide.

"Look at you..." He whispered mockingly, enjoying the spectacle of her struggle. "You're tearing yourself apart inside, trying to keep quiet." 

The young woman didn't respond; she couldn't. She was too busy stifling the moans that threatened to betray her, and although part of her wanted to scream, to lose herself in that intensity, she would never do it. Because doing so would mean proving Gabriel right, accepting what he already knew, that he was too good, too perfect at the art of making her surrender.

And she had decided that she would never give him that victory.

Gabriel kept up the same deep, calculated rhythm, giving her no respite. His hand still held her leg up, dominating the position, and from above he watched her with that half-smile that only infuriated her. She was breathing heavily, her lips bitten, the sheets crumpled under her tense fingers, and yet she still refused to let out a single moan.

"Do you know what I like most?" he murmured, leaning slightly toward her, without losing his rhythm. "That no matter how much you want to deny it, your body already tells me the truth." 

His tone was soft, sensual, but every word was a direct blow to her pride. The young woman pressed her lips together and closed her eyes as if that would allow her to escape the heat that was invading her from within.

He noticed, of course he noticed. And far from keeping quiet, he leaned in even closer, his lips brushing the edge of her ear. 

"You squeeze me so tight as if you want me deeper inside you, as if you couldn't let me go even if you tried." 

She held her breath, trembled for a moment, and hated him for it. He chuckled softly, enjoying her slight reaction. His movements remained steady and deep, but then he changed the angle of his hips just enough to elicit an involuntary shudder from her.

"You like that better, don't you?" He teased, confident, controlling every detail. "You feel it deep, Marinette, and you can't even say no to me." 

Marinette wanted to answer, wanted to hurl insults at him, but instead of words, only a slight gasp escaped her, which she had to bite back to stifle. Shame burned her cheeks, and that reaction alone was enough to make him smile victoriously.

"That... that sounds better," he whispered with delight, his lips brushing her neck as he thrust into her with the same cadence. He pulled away just enough to see her, to watch her body arch against his. "Look at you. In order not to moan, you destroy yourself." 

The hand that wasn't holding her leg slid down her thigh, slow, possessive, as if to emphasize who was in control at that moment.

"And you still want to convince me that you don't enjoy having me like this," he added cheekily, letting his voice vibrate low and confident. 

Marinette squeezed her eyes shut, and she shook her head, but it was useless. Between the pressure of her own body and the man's venomously sensual words, every fiber of her being was on the verge of giving in.

He knew it, he could feel it. That's why he didn't speed up, didn't lose his method. He was a patient executioner, a cruel lover who preferred to watch her break on her own, in silence, until the inevitable happened.

The young woman was already lost on that border, her insides pressing against him, that tingling vibrating in every nerve, and the wave of orgasm threatening to explode at any moment. She couldn't moan, but inside she did, biting her lips until they hurt, trying to suppress the inevitable. Gabriel noticed; he felt it in the way she squeezed him, in the way her body surrendered to him even though her mouth refused.

Just when the pressure reached its limit, he stopped. He stopped moving, staying inside her, motionless, cruel. The girl gasped, her nails scratching the sheet, desperate, feeling that fire suddenly extinguished, leaving her empty, unsatisfied, and almost betrayed.

"No..." She murmured, but swallowed her voice before anything louder escaped.

Gabriel pulled away from her neck, straightening his back. His eyes sparkled with triumph, with malice.

"Did you think I was going to give it to you?" He whispered in her ear, tilting his head with a cheeky smile. "You said you didn't want it, so I listened to you." 

Marinette clenched her teeth, hating how much she enjoyed it and how much she needed him back. She was about to tell him to go to hell, to push him away, but he grabbed her by the waist. 

"Turn around." 

The young woman was about to curse at him, but the misery of being left unfinished outweighed her pride. She rolled slowly, her face against the bed, her hair falling like a veil, surrendering without strength.

"Now lift that ass." His voice was dark, almost hoarse, enjoying every word. "Look at you, so perfect for me." 

She obeyed, hating herself for doing so, arching her hips with a stifled sigh.

"So bossy as always," she murmured, her voice trembling with venom she couldn't hide.

He laughed softly, satisfied. He adjusted her position with gentle hands, and before she could reply, he slid inside her in one smooth motion. The girl stifled a cry against the pillow, her fingers clenching the fabric tightly.

"God... you're glorious inside, Marinette," he murmured through clenched teeth, closing his eyes for a moment, delighted by the sensation. "I swear I want to do so many things to you, if only they couldn't hear us." 

"Why would they fire me?"

Gabriel ignored her comment, too absorbed in that perfect blend of pleasure and power. He moved his penis again, deep, with a restrained but devastating rhythm. Each thrust was a cruel caress that reminded her who was in control of the moment.

The worst thing for Marinette was that she was beginning to give in.

The man did not relinquish control in any way. His body moved with a steady, intense rhythm, stronger than before, but still just enough so that the mattress would not give anything away with an untimely creak. 

His breathing was controlled, almost elegant, but the gleam in his eyes betrayed the animal inside him. His hands gripped Marinette's hips tightly, forcing her to maintain the position he had chosen, and each thrust was a reminder that she was at his mercy.

"Can you feel it?" he whispered, barely grazing her ear with his deep, mocking voice. "All of this is yours... but you can't even admit it." 

Marinette pressed her lips against the sheet, burying her face to prevent any moans from escaping. Her body, however, betrayed her. She arched her back, welcoming him, seeking him even as she tried to resist. The heat built up inside her, that pressure she had felt before returning with greater force, and it became increasingly difficult to deny.

Gabriel noticed, of course. He felt it in the way she tensed, in the way her muscles squeezed him as if begging for more. It turned him on even more, and he took advantage of it with calculated cruelty.

"So tight..." He murmured with a satisfied gasp, leaning over her to press his chest against her back as he continued to move. "You love it, even if you don't say so."

Marinette closed her eyes tightly, hating how much those words excited her. Why did his vulgarity make her shiver like that? She didn't understand it, and she couldn't control it either. She only knew that she was enjoying it, even though she would never admit it.

The man, for his part, revelled in it. He held her as if she were completely his, as if he knew that no other man could elicit such reactions from her. He allowed himself a low, arrogant laugh as he set a deeper, more intense rhythm, but always discreet, without losing his head.

"You look perfect like this," he whispered against her neck, sliding a hand forward to force her to arch her back even more. "As if you were born for this."

The girl hated him. She hated that he was right. And yet, her body accepted him, enjoyed him, wanted him more. That was the lost battle she would never admit aloud, that Gabriel, with his arrogance, his vulgarity, and his measured thrusts, had taken complete control of her body and the night.

Gabriel kept up the pace with precision, each thrust measured to be as intense as possible without breaking the silence that held them captive. The young woman's body trembled against his, and he growled in frustration through clenched teeth.

"Damn it... If we didn't have to be quiet, I'd have your ass on fire right now," he murmured in a low, hoarse tone, full of blatant lewdness.

Marinette felt the blood rush to her face as she imagined it, and she squeezed the sheet even tighter between her fingers. Shame mingled with a suffocating heat in her chest, descending to her belly, to the deepest part of herself. She couldn't bear that the image aroused her so much.

The man, however, seemed to know exactly what was going through her mind. He leaned over her, pressing his mouth to her ear, and continued to utter each word like a well-aimed blow.

"Look at you... open for me, trembling, swallowing me deep inside." He gasped, digging his fingers into her hips to force her to take him deeper. "There's nothing I like more than feeling you squeeze me like that, as if you were begging me never to stop." 

Marinette bit the fabric beneath her face, stifling a moan that threatened to escape. How could every word, every vulgarity, turn her on so much? Gabriel treated her with such raw, animalistic brazenness that it made her tremble. And that was what awakened the growing heat inside her, that electric tingling that spread through her body and that she knew all too well.

The pressure grew inside her belly, that tension that made her tremble, and she knew she was about to break. For a moment, she feared he would play with her again, cut her off abruptly, as before. But this time there was no doubt, he wanted it too.

His breathing became heavier, his thrusts harder, more precise, focused on that spot that made her lose control.

"Give it to me, Marinette," he growled hoarsely, his voice full of desire. "I want to feel you explode with me." 

She could no longer think, only let herself go. Each of Gabriel's movements pushed her closer to the abyss, and he never stopped holding her with his large hands, never stopped sinking into her with savage precision. It was no longer a game, it was an inevitable destiny, a shared need.

They both burned in the same fire, craving the same release, every fiber of their bodies begging for the same outcome.

The air in the room was heavy, laden with the heat of their bodies and the sweat beading on their skin. Gabriel kept up his rhythm with almost cruel precision until he decided to make the moment unbearable. He lowered the intensity a little, not enough to give relief, but enough to keep the young woman on the edge, burning her inside. His lips traced the curve of her neck, leaving wet, hurried kisses, barely audible due to the restraint of his own breathing.

"You're trembling," he murmured against her ear, letting his breath shake her more than the words themselves. One of his hands descended, brushing the side of her waist, squeezing her in just the right spot to remind her that she was his with every movement.

Marinette bit the pillow, trying not to let a single sound escape, her eyes tightly closed as her insides throbbed with each thrust. The man leaned a little closer to her, his chest against her back. 

She couldn't take it anymore, the pressure inside her growing, as if she were about to break, her body shaking with involuntary spasms, her breathing broken and desperate. Gabriel felt it, he knew it, and instead of stopping, this time he held her with both hands, taking her with him, adjusting each movement with a precision that seemed impossible.

The orgasm came like a wave that swept them both away. Marinette squeezed her eyes shut tightly, feeling that pressure finally release in waves that ran through her entire body; her walls closed around him, and he growled softly, choked, feeling her envelop him until he too lost control. His own erection reacted suddenly, releasing intensely as he remained inside her, caught up in the same storm that consumed them both.

Her breasts rose and fell at a frantic pace, their gasps mingling, without words, just the sound of two exhausted and satisfied bodies. Gabriel finally withdrew from inside her, and she immediately collapsed onto the bed, completely drained of strength, her body limp as a rag. 

Sweat trickled down her skin, leaving her damp and sticky, as if they had run a marathon. The man fell to one side, also exhausted, his muscles tense and trembling, panting with his mouth half open. He still had to get up, take care of the condom, and clean himself up, but for a few seconds, he allowed himself to stay there, motionless, clinging to the sensation that still vibrated in his nerves.

The young woman brushed her hair away from her face with a slow, tired movement. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed heavily, still with that mixture of pleasure and exhaustion in her muscles. She turned her face slightly and looked at him. The man was disheveled, sweaty, his jaw relaxed and his eyes half-closed with fatigue, and yet she had never seen him so attractive.

Marinette watched him with her mouth half open, gasping for air, unable to look away from this man who, destroyed and exhausted, seemed more irresistible than ever. 

Notes:

Once again, I apologize for the excess of words. I really wanted to cut it short, but it seemed like a crime not to show you everything.

Regarding the chapter, I like to make Marinette very dominant, and thanks to being able to include a little bit of Gabriel's life here, I really think he likes being dominated. There are tags we haven't touched on yet, but we'll get there eventually.

Oh, yes, the chapter was long, which is why it took so long. Maybe the same thing will happen again, or maybe not.

But thank you for your patience!