Chapter 38
Saint
I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. We were supposed to take care of the Russos—finally tie off the bleeding end of that mess. But before that happened, I needed to talk to my wife. In case it was the last time.
It was quiet—real quiet. She had been upset with me since the Luciano incident. I felt bad about making her cry, but if I was being honest… she deserved some of what was said.
Luciano didn’t pick fights. He responded. That was the difference, though they were alike in a lot of ways like Ava had said.
Ariapushed him—kept poking, prodding, trying to get a rise out of a man who usually stood still under fire. She admitted she got some type of sick joy out of it. So why would I ruin a friendship, or risk inner fighting with a man who knew every part of my empire—even more so than me?
Now here we were, two stubborn people sitting in the aftermath.
I cleared my throat.
Aria had one leg tucked beneath her, her fingers playing with the edge of a throw pillow. She wouldn’t look at me, not fully. And I didn’t push her.
“I heard you, Aria,” I said quietly. “The other day. When you cried.”
Her eyes flicked up to mine—quick, mean. I knew she didn’t like me mentioning that she had cried. But she had.
“I’ve never seen vulnerability from you. Not once...” I swallowed. “Seeing you cry... it was eye-opening. I didn’t realize how much you were holding in.”
Her throat worked. She blinked slowly, then sat forward, elbows on her knees.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too. But you don’t really have anything to apologize for anymore,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “I do.For everything. For the manipulation. For lying. I justified it. Even as I saw the resentment building in your eyes…”
She looked at me. “I need you to forgive me.” She sighed. “I don’t think I could survive loving someone who might one day hate me,” she admitted. “I can see that happening between us.”
I nodded.
“I don’t hate you,” I said. “But I get why you think I could.”
She didn’t answer, and I didn’t blame her. We’d built something real, but it was laid over ruins—on top of betrayal, blood, and secrets.
“No more lies, Aria,” I said firmly. “No more manipulation. No more secrets. If this is going to work, it has to be honest. I don’t care how ugly the truth is—just give it to me straight.”
She nodded slowly, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
“And you need to start listening to me,” I added. My voice didn’t rise, but I sharpened it. “You keep putting yourself in danger. And I know you think you’re invincible, but you’re not. You’re my wife. You’re the mother of my children. I need you here—alive.”
“I just be trying to help—” she started.
“I don’t need you to help like that,” I snapped. “Not when it means risking your life. Not when it means showing up where you don’t belong and meddling in shit that can turn fatal in a second.”
Her gaze dropped. I wasn’t done.
“And stop with Luciano,” I said. “Stop poking at him. I know you think he’s cold and calculated, and needsto show emotion,but that man will kill for his wife. And I won’t let my wife get killed over a jab that didn’t need to be said. So that would mean a bloody fight I might not survive. Don't push us there.”
Her chin trembled.“Okay,” she whispered. “No more games. No more jabs. I’ll listen. I’ll try.”
“Don’t try, Aria. Do.”
She nodded her head. I nodded.
I reached for her face, brushing my knuckles down her cheek. “I just want us to be better. Start fresh. Start over.”
She pulled back just enough to look at me. “Okay,” she whispered again. “Then let’s start now.”
She held out her hand. “Cora Arial Charles,” she offered. “Nice to meet you.”
“So I’ve earned your last name,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “Shut up, like you didn’t already know it.” I had known it—ever since I found out her father was still alive. Her mother told me, but that was our little secret.
“Hi,” I said softly. “I’m Saint Valentine.”
Her lips curled upward.
And just like that, we started over.