Chapter 5
Saint
The dress is emerald green, and the silk flows down her body, somehow hugging every curve while still leaving a lot to the imagination. It's the perfect mix of sexy, feminine, and conservative.
I like that.
I'm not a man who notices women's clothes. Hell, until I'm looking to fuck, I don't usually pay much attention to women.
And yet, my pretty little wife demands my attention. Gemma Nero, now Marini, is not the type of woman one ignores, and her choice of clothing for the evening simply highlights that fact.
She is lovely in that old-money, soft kind of way. Her thick hair and silver eyes give her a sort of innocent look. But there's more to her than just a pretty face. Her silver eyes are molten with anger at me, and her cheeks are flushed with passion.
I'd yelled upstairs for her to hurry up, no doubt pissing her off, and that anger and irritation have added to her beauty.
My wife is stunning. The type of woman that makes men turn their heads.
I appreciate the way that knowledge bolsters me. I have something others covet, and I like it.
"You look acceptable."
Her jaw tightens. "How generous."
I offer my arm. After a moment's hesitation, she takes it and allows me to guide her to the car.
We're silent as Emmanuel drives us to the Plaza.
Some endangered species charity gala. The kind of event where criminals and legitimate businessmen pretend that they can't tell each other apart.
Where everyone pays fifty grand a table to feel philanthropic while discussing money laundering over champagne.
I fucking hate these things, and I usually don't attend, but Antonio made it clear now that I'm married, I need to step into the public persona.
Which means I need my wife to cooperate.
"Smile," I tell Gemma as we approach the entrance. "Look like you don't want to kill me."
"That's asking a lot."
"You wanted to be partners. Partners don't look like they're being held hostage."
"You've made it clear we aren't partners," she sneers, but she adjusts her expression slightly. Not a real smile, but close enough. Society Gemma has entered the building, thank fucking God. Because everyone is watching us. The newly married Marinis. The alliance everyone's been watching.
A wedding to rival Adrian Nero's quickie.
And for those in the know, a tragic story about a princess and a monster. People eat that shit up.
A waiter offers champagne. Gemma takes one. I don't. I bite my tongue. She won't appreciate me dictating her alcohol consumption, and I can't afford a scene. Not here. Not with Adrian watching.
"Mr. Marini!" A man in a tuxedo approaches. Gerald something. Finance guy. Legitimate money, but he does business with families like ours. They all do. To people like this, money is money, doesn't matter if it's dirty or clean. "Congratulations on your marriage."
"Thank you."
"And this must be your lovely wife." He turns to Gemma with a smile that's too wide. Too interested.
"Gemma Marini," she says, extending her hand. "It's a pleasure."
"The pleasure is mine. I knew your mother, actually. Bianca was an extraordinary woman."
Something shifts in Gemma's expression. Grief, maybe, but she hides it quickly. "She was. Did you attend many of her exhibitions? She did love a show."
I hid a snort at the double entendre and instead watch Gemma take control. She handles Gerald incredibly, laughing at his stupid ass jokes, touching his arm slightly, asking questions about his work.
This is what she's good at. The social performance. Making people feel seen.
It's everything I'm not, and as much as it pains me, I can see why Antonio was desperate to bring her into the family. She's good. I'll give her that.
"Your wife is charming," Gerald says when Gemma excuses herself to the restroom. "You're a lucky man."
"I know."
The lie comes easily.
The night continues like that. People approaching, Gemma handling them with practiced ease. She knows when to laugh, when to touch someone's arm, when to look fascinated by boring stories about real estate investments.
She's also a pro at mining information, as I stand beside her, letting her work, I learn a great deal about the men who don't realize they are being taken in by a pretty face.
We fall into a rhythm. Someone approaches, she engages, I nod and look intimidating. Tag-team. She smooths the social interaction; I remind them who they're dealing with.
It's...effective.
I've already scheduled two meetings with private equity guys who I'm pretty sure I can blackmail into giving me a pipeline of funds to expand our operations.
It's incredible, and I'm not above admitting it.
"You're good at this," I tell her during a lull.
She glances at me, surprised by the compliment. "At what?"
"This." I gesture vaguely at the room. "Making people comfortable. Making them like you. Gathering intel."
"It's what I was trained for." There's bitterness in her voice. "Bianca made sure I knew how to be decorative in the most efficient ways." She bats her eyes. "She was big on the power of a pretty face."
Before I can respond, I see him.
Adrian Nero. Across the room with his wife.
Sera looks exactly like I remember. She is delicate, a little nervous, clinging to Adrian's arm like she might blow away. A wilting flower. The kind of woman who exists to be protected, managed, controlled.
The kind Adrian likes, and the kind I despise.
I sigh. This asshole is the last person I want to see, and from the way Gemma tenses, I know she agrees. Unfortunately, Adrian's gaze catches ours, and he nods.
"No," Gemma's nails dig into my arm.
"Don't be a child," I growl, leading her towards her brother. "He's seen us."
We move toward each other through the crowd.
"Saint." Adrian's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Gemma."
"Adrian." My wife's voice is carefully neutral, the mask in place. "Sera." She gives her sister-in-law a small smile, and they embrace. Sera whispers something that makes Gemma's expression soften.
"We're going to get a drink," Sera says, smiling at Adrian.
His eyes narrow, and he gestures slightly. I watch as his second steps out of the shadows. "Stay by the bar," he orders.
Gemma rolls her eyes, but they walk away. I watch them go. More specifically, I watch the men at the bar watch Gemma walk toward them in that green dress. One of them says something to his companion. They both smile.
My jaw tightens.
Adrian watches them, then turns to me. "Business is good?"
"Good enough."
"Glad to hear it. The alliance is working well.
" He pauses. I'm sure it is working well for him.
He's the one who has the Russians on his ass, and the FBI, thanks to his brother-in-law.
Antonio has me running interference on several fronts, while Adrian sits in his golden mansion doing nothing. "How's married life treating you?"
"Fine."
His eyes flick to Gemma, then back to me. "She's adjusting?"
"You'd have to ask her."
"I'm asking you." There's an edge now. Brother checking on sister, and I try not to roll my eyes. Adrian negotiated our marriage contract, even though he knew how much his sister didn't want to get married.
"She's fine," I say. "Healthy. Cooperative."
It's what he wants to hear. That I'm fulfilling my end of the contract without complications, and that Gemma is happy enough.
He wants to be absolved of guilt.
"Good. Gemma was always..." He searches for words. "A pretty jewel. She wants to be more, but she's something you polish and put on a shelf to admire. That's all Bianca ever trained her to be."
Something cold slides through me.
A jewel. Something decorative, to be looked at, not used.
I'm an asshole, but Jesus, Gemma's own brother sees her as nothing more than an object.
I think about this morning. Gemma on her knees in my office, eyes blazing with determination. The security knowledge she offered. The intelligence in how she presented her case. And more than anything, how she worked the room.
Adrian sees none of that, and no one else does.
Absolute dumbasses.
"Let's step outside," Adrian says. "I want to discuss the shipping routes. There have been some complications."
I follow him to the terrace. He lights a cigarette, offers me one. I decline. "Those things will kill you."
He laughs. "The Russians are getting aggressive," he tells me. "Pushing into territories that were agreed upon years ago. We need to present a united front."
"Agreed."
"Good." He takes a drag.
"And the heir situation?"
My jaw tightens. Adrian knows how badly Antonio wants an heir. After all, it was key to our part of the contract negotiations. "We're working on it."
"No pressure. These things take time, but you'll want to make sure you are doing your part."
I don't respond, but my brow lifts. "You really want to talk about your sister's sex life."
He has the good sense to look disgusted. "Not particularly." He takes a drag of his cigarette. "I simply want to ensure that things are going well."
"You want to make sure I'm happy with my acquisition, so I don't back out of our agreement," I say, plainly.
He studies me. "Yes," he tells me, plainly. "Gemma is upset. I get it, but she just needs time to adjust." His silver eyes narrow on me. "You both do."
"And if she doesn't? How far are you willing to go to ensure your investment?" I ask.
He puffs on the end of his cigarette. "Then you handle it however you need to. That's the agreement. I don't interfere in other men's homes unless I need to."
"Unless you need to?" I repeat questioningly.
"Unless the contract is broken." He meets my eyes. "As long as you uphold your end, what happens in your home is your business."
So that's it. That's all she is to him.