“If he knows about us . . .” She trailed off.

Gabe got up and went to a side table to retrieve a notepad and pen. Returning to the sofa, he asked, “What’s this kid’s name?”

“Cole Doberinsky.”

He asked her to spell it as he wrote it down. “Middle name?”

“Jonathan.”

“His parents’ address?”

She provided the street address and the zip code (there were only two in the town). Gabe recorded it all. Then he tore off the piece of paper, folded it, and slid it into his pants pocket.

“I’m going to take care of Cole Doberinsky,” he said calmly. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

“What are you going to do?”

He took her hands in his. “Do you trust me?”

She looked into his blue eyes, so confident, so commanding. She did trust him. Gabe Turnmill was more composed, more capable than anyone she’d ever met. And he cared for her. She knew it. This wasn’t just a financial arrangement. It may have started that way, but there was more between them now.

“I trust you,” she said softly.

“I’ll keep you safe, Natalie. I won’t let that kid hurt you. I promise.”

She nodded, too overcome with gratitude to speak. She kissed him then and felt something swell inside of her. It was intense, powerful, a feeling she’d never experienced before. Standing, she took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom.

24

Ohio

Everything was different now that Nat could admit what she felt for Gabe. She was in love with him. His limited availability, the money he gave her, the age difference between them . . . all of that was irrelevant. What mattered was her heart, and it had never felt so safe, so cherished, so protected. And it wasn’t the only organ affected: her mind craved his stimulating conversations; her body pined for his touch. Even now, thinking about him as she worked on a painting in the studio, pinkened her cheeks and made her pulse race.

When they’d made love in Vermont, he had been tender and attentive. Unlike her previous partners who’d seemed to consider sex an athletic endeavor, Gabe treated it like an art form. Nat’s body was his instrument and he’d played her like a master. With Gabe, she had felt things she never had before. Were older men better in bed due to their experience? Or because they weren’t raised on internet porn? Nat didn’t know, didn’t care. She just wanted more.

Thoughts of her boyfriend (such a juvenile term but she would not call him her sponsor, her blesser, or her sugar daddy, not anymore) had replaced her fears about Cole. It had been a week since she’d received his menacing texts, and he had not made an appearance at her school or her Brooklyn home. No one in her orbit had confronted her about her sugar arrangement, meaning Cole had not outed her. Gabe had promised to protect her, to keep her safe, and he had.