Chapter 27 #2
I glance in the mirror. He's not wrong. I look haggard. There are dark circles under my eyes, and my face is thinner despite the pregnancy. Even my hair looks dull and lifeless.
Just as things have been getting better, the revelations around Gabe have been weighing heavy on my mind, and I haven't been able to eat or sleep.
"A spa day isn't going to fix this," I say. "It's not going to make things better."
"No. But it might help you rest." He moves behind me, hands on my shoulders. "And Gemma needs it too. She's been miserable since the engagement. Maybe you two can... I don't know. Talk. Bond. Whatever."
I raise a brow. "You want us to be friends?" I had hoped for that once, but Gemma had been MIA since her engagement, and I'd been wrapped up in work and the baby, so I hadn't reached out.
I'm too tired to feel guilty about that.
"I want you both to have someone who understands." His eyes meet mine in the mirror. "This life is lonely. Especially for the women. You should have each other."
It's surprisingly thoughtful and completely unexpected.
He's also not wrong. Besides Gemma and Bianca, I have not met a single other woman in this life. I've never really had girlfriends, but I need someone to talk to who doesn't have a dick and therefore inherited power.
But I also promised myself I wouldn't take any unnecessary risks with my safety, and a spa day feels like a risk.
"Will it be safe? With everything going on with Gabe?"
"I'm sending six guards. The spa has been cleared. No other clients. It's as safe as I can make it." He kisses my neck. "Please. For me."
"Since when do you say please?"
"Since my wife looks like she's about to collapse." His hands slide to my stomach. "I need you healthy. I need our son healthy. A few hours of relaxation aren't going to hurt."
He's right. And honestly, the idea of getting out of the mansion, of doing something normal, is appealing.
"Okay," I agree. "But if I hate it, I'm blaming you."
"Fair enough."
The spa is in Manhattan, tucked away on a quiet street in the West Village. From the outside, it looks unassuming. Inside, it's all white marble and soft lighting and the kind of hushed luxury that screams expensive.
Gemma is already there, wrapped in a plush robe, her hair pulled back. She looks as tired as I feel.
"Sera." She stands when I enter, and for a moment we just look at each other. Then she moves forward, pulling me into a hug. "I'm so glad you came."
I hug her back, surprised by how much I needed this. How much I needed someone who understands.
"Adrian said you needed to get out," I smile. "And apparently, I do too."
"He's not wrong." She links her arm through mine. "Come on. They have a private room for us. Massages first, then facials, then whatever we want."
The massage room is dimmed, two tables side by side. Soft music plays. It smells like lavender and eucalyptus.
For the first hour, we don't talk much. Just let the masseuses work out the knots in our backs, our shoulders, all the tension we carry.
They are especially careful with me, and I realize this is the first time I feel encumbered by pregnancy.
It's weirdly nice to feel the weight of my son—comforting.
It's not until we're alone in the relaxation room after, drinking cucumber water and wrapped in heated blankets, that Gemma finally speaks.
"How are you really doing?" she asks. "With everything."
"Honestly? I don't know." I sip my water. "Everything feels...surreal. Like I'm living someone else's life."
She pulls her blanket tighter. "Do you regret it? Marrying Adrian?"
It's a dangerous question. One I'm not sure how to answer honestly.
"Sometimes," I admit. "But then other times, I think maybe it's not as bad as I thought it would be." I press a hand to my stomach. "I can't regret what brought me here."
"He cares about you. I can tell."
"Does he? Or does he just care about controlling me?
" That's been the crux of our problems. Adrian needs control, and I struggle to give it to him.
"And yet, there are times when things between us are perfect—when we're shopping for the baby, when he holds me at night, when he looks at me like I'm the only thing in his world. Those moments are what keep me here."
"What you need to understand about Adrian is that love and possession are the same thing for him." Gemma's smile is sad. "He doesn't know how to love without possessing. But that doesn't mean the feeling isn't real."
I turn to look at her. "You know him better than I do." It's a statement. That's it.
She sets down her water. "Do you want to know what I see when I look at you two?"
"Dysfunction?" I sip my own water. "After all, we are constantly playing games."
She shakes her head. "He looks at you the way he's never looked at anyone. Like you're something precious. Something worth protecting." She pauses. "He's never cared enough about anyone else to look at them like that."
I'm not sure what to say to that because while I know Adrian cares about me, I wonder if it's only because he's fascinated by me, by the newness and excitement.
Gemma's face goes very still. "Has he told you about our father?"
I shake my head. "He told me you two were there when he died, and Bianca told me some…"
"Bianca's version is different from ours," she snaps. "Has Adrian mentioned details?"
"Not much."
"I'm not surprised. He pretends it never happened.
" She shakes her head. "He was murdered in front of us.
We were kids. Adrian was ten, and I was six.
Luc was home sick, so Dad took us out for ice cream.
A competitor gunned him down. He came up while he was helping to tie my shoe and blew his brains out. "
My hand flies to my mouth. "Oh my God."
"I still can't eat ice cream." Her voice is flat.
Practiced. Like she's told this story before.
"Adrian tried to fight them. He took Dad's gun and tried to hunt the man down, but he was small and the gun was heavy…
" She shivers slightly. "By the time the guards found us, Dad was cold, and we were just standing there traumatized. "
Tears are streaming down my face. "Gemma—"
She finally looks at me. "I think something in Adrian broke that night. Like his brain just... switched off the parts that feel normal human emotions. All that's left is the need to protect. To control. To make sure nothing like that ever happens again."
Tears stream down my face thinking about that little boy. I mourn for Gemma, who watched her father die.
"I didn't know," I whisper. "He didn't give me details."
"He wouldn't. He doesn't talk about it. Ever." She reaches for my hand. "The fact that he told you some is huge."
"Why did you tell me?"
"Because I want you to understand. Adrian is the way he is because he's terrified. Of losing control. Of losing the people he loves. Of being that helpless boy again."
"So he holds on too tight."
"Yes. And it's suffocating. Believe me, I know." Her grip tightens on my hand. "But it comes from a real place. From real trauma. It doesn't make it right. I've always thought he was a sociopath—someone who can't feel like normal people do. But maybe it makes it more... understandable."
I think about Adrian. About his need to know where I am at all times. His guards. His rules. His violence when anyone threatens what's his.
It's not just about power. It's about fear.
Fear of losing control. Fear of losing me. Fear of being helpless again.
"Thank you for telling me," I say quietly.
"You're family now. You should know." She squeezes my hand, then releases it. "And Sera? He's trying. I can see it. The way he comes home for dinner. The way he set this up for us. He doesn't do things like that. Not normally. You're changing him."
"Do you think that Adrian can change?" I ask. "When all of this is over—"
"It's never over." She smiles sadly. "But give him time. And maybe meet him halfway. I think you'll be surprised."
"What about you?" I ask. "What about Saint?"
Her smile fades immediately. "What about him?"
"Are you okay? With the engagement? With everything?"
"No." The word is small. Defeated. "But I don't have a choice."
"There's always a choice."
She glances at me. "Sometimes the choices are just varying degrees of bad."
"Maybe you could grow to care about him."
"I don't even know him." She pulls her knees to her chest. "We've met maybe five times. And every time, he goes out of his way to make me feel small. Stupid. Like I'm some spoiled princess he's being forced to marry."
"He is being forced," I remind her. "Maybe there's common ground there."
"He's made it clear he's not interested in finding common ground."
"Really?"
"He's cruel. Not like Adrian. Adrian is cold, calculated. But Saint—" She shivers. "He likes to hurt things. You can see it in his eyes. And I'm terrified of what that means for—" She stops.
"For what?"
Her cheeks flush. "For the wedding night. For when we're alone. For when he can do whatever he wants, and I can't stop him."
Oh. Oh no.
"Has he hurt you?" I ask carefully.
"Not yet. We're not married. And there are rules about that. You don't touch another family's daughter until the wedding." She won't meet my eyes. "But I've heard things. About what he's like. In bed. About the women he's been with. And I'm—I'm scared, Sera."
I move to her couch, pull her into my arms. "I'm so sorry."
"I don't even want to have sex," she says into my shoulder.
"I know that sounds naive. Like some princess in a tower, which is what he accuses me of being.
But I wanted it to be special. With someone who loved me.
Someone gentle." She laughs bitterly. "Instead, I'm marrying a man who looks at me like I'm something he's going to enjoy breaking. "
"Gemma—"
"I'll survive it. I know I will. I'm a Nero. We survive everything." She pulls back, wiping her eyes. "But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified."
I don't know what to say, so instead, I just hold her and let her cry, let her be scared.
We spend the rest of the afternoon talking. About marriage. About family. About the strange lives we're living.
By the time we're getting dressed to leave, I feel lighter. Not happy, exactly. But less alone.
Gemma has become something I didn't expect.
A friend. A sister. Someone who understands.
"We should do this again," she says as we're preparing to leave. "Maybe once a month?"
"I'd like that."
"Good." She hugs me tight. "Thank you. For listening. For not judging."
"Right back at you."
She leaves first, her guards surrounding her as she heads to her car.
I'm gathering my things, about to follow, when I remember I left my phone in the changing room.
"I'll be right there," I tell my guards. "Just need to grab my phone."
They nod, staying by the entrance while I duck back inside.
The changing room is empty. Quiet. I find my phone in my locker, slip it into my bag.
Turn to leave.
And freeze.
Because Gabe is standing in the doorway.
My baby brother. He looks better than the last time I saw him. His face is healed, and he’s filled out. He looks weirdly healthy.
"Hey, Sera," he says. "We need to talk."