Chapter 14 Saint #2
"It must be hard on her too. New family, new life, and now this."
I grunt noncommittally.
"We should do dinner," Julian suggests. "All of us. Before Dad—" He stops himself. "While we still can."
"Sure." I can't bring myself to tell them there's no fucking way their father can sit at a table.
More awkward silence.
"There's something you should know," Marcello says finally. "We've been getting calls. From the other families. Checking in. Asking about succession plans."
"Let me guess. They're concerned."
"They're circling." Dominic's voice is bitter. "Like sharks sensing blood."
"Let them circle," I say. "There's nothing they can do."
"Saint, they're serious. The Morozovs especially." Marcello lowers his voice. "There are rumors you're not ready, and I'm certain Alexei is the one spreading that shit around. He's telling people that without Dad, the family will fracture."
I think about Alexei at the club. His offer. His threats. The way he knew about Gemma and our operations against Adrian.
"The family is fine," I say.
"Is it?" Julian challenges. "Because from where we're standing, you're about to inherit a shitstorm with no clear successor and everyone questioning your authority."
"Then everyone can fuck off." I glare. "Including you three."
"That's not a strategy," Marcello says. "That's pride."
I turn on him. "You want to tell me how to run this family? You, who've spent your whole life pretending you're not part of it?"
He doesn't flinch. "I'm just saying you might need help. Support. We're family, Saint. Let us help you."
I'm sure he does want to help.
"You can help by being here for your father. Leave the rest to me."
The doorbell rang before anyone can respond.
One of the guards appears. "Boss. Adrian Nero is here. Says it's urgent."
Of course he is.
"Send him to my office. I'll be there in a minute."
I turn back to my cousins. "Make yourselves at home."
We all ignore the weight of my words. When Antonio passes, this is no longer theirs. Better fucking get used to it.
Adrian's pacing in my office when I enter. He looks like he hasn't slept in days. Good.
I still remember what Gemma told me at the beach. He fucking stole from her, even if he didn't really know what he was doing.
Her motives make a hell of a lot more sense these days.
"Saint. Thanks for seeing me." I raise a brow. Adrian Nero isn't known for gratitude. "I know Antonio is…"
"What do you want, Adrian?" I don't sit. Don't offer him a drink. Don't pretend this is social.
"We need to talk about the attacks."
"I thought they stopped."
His jaw tightens. "They did. For about two weeks. Then they started again, worse than before."
Something cold settles in my stomach. "What do you mean, worse?"
"I mean someone is systematically dismantling my operation from the inside." He pulls out his phone, shows me photos. "Three warehouses hit in the last ten days. Two shipments intercepted. Five of my men dead."
"Sounds like you have a security problem."
"It's more than that." He's wound tight, barely containing his rage. "One of Alexei's men was caught on camera at a warehouse. He knew exactly which shipment to hit, exactly when security would be light, exactly where the cameras had blind spots."
Fuck.
"So, it's the Russians."
"Yes. But that's not all." Adrian leans forward. "He had access codes. Internal schedules. Information that doesn't leave the family. Someone gave it to him. Someone on the inside."
"You're sure?"
"We captured the Russian." His smile is cold. "He confirmed it before he died. Someone has been feeding Alexei everything. Routes, schedules, vulnerabilities. Everything, Saint. Someone inside the Nero family is working with the Morozovs."
The room feels too small. Too hot.
"That's your problem to solve," I say, keeping my voice even. "Not mine."
"You're not concerned? If they take us down, you're next. The Marinis and Neros are allied through your marriage. An attack on us is an attack on you."
"Then I suggest you figure out who your traitor is before that happens."
"I'm trying." He runs a hand through his hair. "But the timing... the pattern changed about three weeks ago. The attacks got more targeted. More personal. Like someone with intimate knowledge of our operations."
Three weeks ago.
Right after I ended things with Gemma.
Right after I told her to stop.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying someone close to the family is involved. Someone we trust." His eyes narrow. "And I need to know if you have any information that could help."
I think about Alexei at the club. The way he knew about our operations. How he'd said someone had "run to tell him" about what Gemma and I were doing.
I'd assumed it was one of my men. A leak in my organization.
But what if it wasn't?
"I don't have anything for you," I say.
"Really? Because word is Alexei approached you at a club a few weeks back. Made you some kind of offer."
Fucking gossip network in this city.
"He did. I told him to fuck off."
"And? What did he want?"
"Intel on you. In exchange for backing when Antonio dies." I meet his eyes. "I refused."
Adrian studies me for a long moment. "I want to believe you."
"I don't care what you believe."
"Really? Because if the Marinis and Morozovs are working together—"
"We're not." I move closer, voice dropping. "Let me be very clear, Adrian. I don't like you. I don't like being tied to your family. But we made a deal. And unlike some people, I keep my word."
He doesn't back down. "Then help me find who's doing this. Because right now, everyone's a suspect. Including people in your house."
"Careful."
"I'm just being honest. The leak started right after your marriage to my sister. Someone with access to both families. Someone who knows both our operations." He pauses. "Makes me wonder what your wife knows."
Every muscle in my body goes taut. "Get out."
"I'm not accusing anyone—"
"Yes, you are. And you're about two seconds away from me breaking your jaw." I gesture to the door. "Get the fuck out of my house. My uncle is dying, and I don't have time for your paranoia."
He stares at me for a long moment. Then nods. "Give Gemma my best."
"Fuck off, Adrian."
He leaves.
I close the door, lean against it.
Someone with inside knowledge.
The pattern changed three weeks ago.
Someone with access to both families.
I pull out my phone, scroll to Emmanuel's message from over a week ago. The one I'd ignored while at the beach house:
"Mrs. Marini lied about meeting her sister-in-law. Sera's guards confirmed no meeting. I don't know where she went, but she disappeared for over an hour. Thought you should know."
I'd planned to confront her about it. Then Antonio's health declined, and I let it slide.
Where did she go that day?
I think about the timeline. Emmanuel's message came the day before I took Gemma to the Hamptons. Right around when these new attacks started.
I already knew Alexei found out about our partnership. That's why I ended it—to protect her from getting caught in the crossfire.
But Adrian's talking about NEW attacks. Recent ones. After I told Gemma to stop.
After I specifically ended our partnership to keep her safe from Alexei.
And someone's still feeding him information.
Someone with insider knowledge of the Neros.
The perfume outside Antonio's door. Her disappearances. The way she looked at me in the car coming back from the Hamptons—guilty but defiant.
Emmanuel's report about her lying.
She didn't stop when I told her to.
She went to him directly.
My wife made a deal with Alexei Morozov behind my back.
The realization hits like a physical blow.
I think about last night. The way she looked at me. The way she said she'd missed me.
Was any of it real?
Or was she playing me this whole time?
I need proof. Need to be sure before I do something I can't take back.
I pull up the security feeds, start scrolling through footage from the day Emmanuel reported her missing.
It takes twenty minutes to find it.
There. Columbia campus. Gemma entering the student center.
Then nothing for forty-five minutes.
Then her emerging, looking shaken. Getting into Emmanuel's car.
Where did she go for those forty-five minutes?
I make a call.
"Boss?" It's Marco, one of my best trackers.
"I need you to pull camera footage. Columbia University, three weeks ago." I give him the date and time. "Track a woman. Five-seven, dark hair. I need to know where she went."
"On it."
I hang up.
Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe there's an explanation.
But the sick feeling in my gut tells me I'm not.
Gemma didn't just defy me.
She betrayed me.
And I have no idea what I'm going to do about it.