Chapter 12 Gemma
Gemma
My period comes exactly seven days after Saint tells me our partnership is over.
Seven days of him barely speaking to me. Seven days of him disappearing into meetings with Antonio, with the captains, with everyone except me.
Seven days of being relegated back to the lonely bedroom full of endless waiting.
And now this.
Blood.
Failure.
Another month gone.
I stare at the evidence in the bathroom, hands shaking.
Almost six months of Saint inside me every night, and nothing to show for it except the growing certainty that something must be wrong with me.
I can't get pregnant.
Can't provide intel anymore.
Can't even hold his attention for more than a few hours before he remembers I'm just the useless wife he's stuck with.
This thing, you feeding me intel, it stops. Tonight.
He'd said it like he was protecting me. Like ending our partnership was noble. Like I should be grateful for his protection.
But all I heard was: You're not useful anymore. We're done.
I'd wanted to believe I was wrong, but ever since that night, he's been missing from our bed, and my life. He's not unkind. Not like he used to be, and in some ways, that is almost worse.
At least when he was a dick, he cared enough to fight with me. Now, he's just—gone.
I grip the bathroom counter, staring at my reflection.
When did I become this? When did I start measuring my worth by what I could give Saint? When did his attention become more important than my own survival?
You're falling in love with him, a voice whispers. And he doesn't even see you anymore. He's going to get rid of you, just like your family.
I shake those thoughts off.
I can't think about that. Can't examine the way my chest tightens when Saint walks into a room, or the way I listen for his footsteps at night, or the way I've started to need him in a way that has nothing to do with strategy or safety.
I splash cold water on my face and focus on pulling myself together.
This isn't over. I won't let it be.
Saint thinks he can just...dismiss me? Decide I'm too fragile for the game? Treat me like I'm some delicate thing that needs protecting instead of the partner who helped him bring Adrian to his knees.
Fuck that.
And fuck him for being such a hypocrite. The big bad psychopath who's supposed to be so terrible and ruthless, and he backs down the moment Alexei makes a threat? Where's the Saint who beat a man bloody for touching me? Where's the cold calculation, the willingness to do whatever it takes?
He's gone soft. Or worse, he never thought I was capable of handling the danger in the first place, and now he's pulling back.
I think about Bianca. The way she maneuvered through this world with her perfectly manicured nails and her ruthless efficiency. The way she taught me that power is everything, that survival means being willing to do what others won't.
She married my father unwillingly, had him killed, and took over his entire outfit. She was the first woman to do it, and she held onto it until her death.
And they'd only been able to get rid of her by blowing her up.
I always told myself I wasn't like her. That I wanted something different, something softer. A 'normal' life.
But standing here, staring at my reflection, I realize the truth:
I want power. I need it. And if Saint won't give it to me, I'll take it myself just like my mother did.
The thought should terrify me. Instead, it feels like the first clear thing I've thought in days.
I'm having a breakdown. The rational part of my brain is screaming that this is dangerous, that I'm not thinking straight, that I should wait until I'm calmer to make any sort of decisions.
But I'm done being rational. Done being safe. Done being the good little wife who sits in her room and waits for scraps of attention.
I get dressed. Black jeans. A simple sweater. Nothing that stands out.
Then I go find Emmanuel.
I'm going to fuck over Saint and Adrian, and I'm going to do it right under their fucking noses.
They'd never underestimate me again.
"Emmanuel," I say, entering the kitchen where he is drinking coffee. "I need to go to Columbia. I left some books there that I need."
He frowns. "Does Mr. Marini know?"
I nod. "Yes," I say, the lie rolling off my tongue with ease. "He would take me, but he's busy."
His brow inches up. "Just a book?"
"Well," I bite my lip slightly, innocently. "I'm also going to meet Sera for coffee. Her driver can bring me home."
"Sera—"
He and Lyla exchange a look, and I fight not to fold. I need to get out, and I can't do it without Emmanuel.
And this isn't the first time I've ditched a driver. Not even kind of. I can do this. "Sera has guards and a driver. There's no point in you standing around in downtown traffic."
He blinks, processing. "And Mr. Marini knows?"
"Of course," I shrug. "He encouraged me to get out."
It's a lie. A good one. Believable. I see the shift immediately. Because I'm not wrong. Antonio and Saint both wanted me to have a life outside of the compound, which I'm sure Emmanuel knows.
"I'll get the car."
Twenty minutes later, we're pulling up to Columbia's campus. Emmanuel parks on Broadway, and I release a heavy breath. This is perfect.
"Do you need me to escort you?"
I shake my head. "No," I say. "I'm going right in and meeting Sera at the café inside."
Emmanuel frowns and puts the car in park.
"I'll wait here."
Internally, I'm screaming. On the outside, I'm cool as can be. "It's a no parking zone."
He frowns, and I hold up a folder. It's one I stuffed full of paper in the hope of looking legit. "How about you watch me walk in?" I ask. "I'm going to be talking to my former advisor for at least twenty minutes."
Emmanuel sighs. "Fine," he says. "But I'm tracking your phone."
"I know." I hold it up. "Student center café. I'll be there for at least thirty minutes." I slide out of the car. "You can head back. I'll text you when Sera's ready to leave."
His eyes narrow slightly, and I know he's surprised I'm calling out the tracker I know is on my phone.
"This isn't my first rodeo, Emmanuel." I walk toward campus confidently, ignoring the frown on his face.
Campus is a great place to lose myself. And this isn't the first time I've ditched a guard. I make my way to the student desk. "Hey, Heather," I say, greeting the girl who sits behind there.
She smiles. "Long time no see."
I pull out two hundred bucks. "Don't forget to walk around occasionally. I'm supposed to be at the café."
She smiles. "No problem. I'm off in twenty minutes, and I've got a final to study for."
"Where will you be?"
"Butler Library, probably. Third floor."
"Perfect. I'll come grab it when I'm back." I hand her the phone. "Just walk around the café area occasionally in case he's tracking it."
She pockets the phone and the cash. "Got it. Same as always."
I slip out of the student center through a side entrance and make my way to the subway.
My hands are shaking as I swipe my MetroCard. This is insane. This is reckless.
But underneath the fear, there's something else.
Power.
For the first time in a week, I'm not waiting for Saint to decide my worth. I'm not sitting in that bedroom wondering when he'll remember I exist.
I'm acting. Choosing. Taking.
And it feels fucking good.
The train comes. I get on and head toward Williamsburg.
Toward Eclipse.
Toward Alexei Morozov.
Eclipse is different during the day. The strobing lights are off, replaced by harsh fluorescents. The dance floor is empty except for staff setting up for tonight. It smells like stale beer and cleaning products.
A man stops me at the door. Big, scarred, the kind of muscle that screams Morozov.
"We're closed."
"I need to see Alexei."
His eyes narrow. "Who are you?"
"Gemma Marini. He'll want to see me."
Recognition flashes across his face. "Wait here."
He disappears inside. I stand there, heart pounding, second-guessing everything.
What am I doing? Saint will kill me if he finds out. And that's if Alexei doesn't do it first. Hell, I'm sure there's a gun trained on me right now. Alexei wouldn't leave his club uncovered with one guard.
Right?
I inhale sharply as the door opens.
The guard jerks his head. "Come."
I follow him through the club, past the bar, to a back office. He knocks once, then opens the door.
Alexei sits behind a desk, looking amused. "Well, well. Saint Marini's little wife. This is unexpected."
I step inside, back straight. The guard closes the door behind me, and the click makes me shiver.
"I have a proposition," I say, getting right to it. "One I think you'll like."
"Do you now?" He leans back in his chair. "Does your husband know you're here?"
"No."
"Interesting." He gestures to the chair across from him. "Sit. Tell me what brings you to my territory without your keeper."
I sit on the edge of the chair. I'm so stiff that I think I'd shatter if someone touches me. "Saint says you want information to bring down Adrian."
"Did he?"
I nod. "I can give you that."
His eyebrows raise. "Just like you gave Saint?"
My mouth is dry. "I'm not here to discuss Saint. This is between you and me."
"I don't do business with women."
I glare. "What's between my legs doesn't affect the intel I can provide."
Alexei's smile turns predatory. "Are you planning to provide me the same package deal you give Saint?"
Heat floods my face at his words. I know what he's implying.
"I'm offering information. Nothing else."
He studies me for a long moment, and I try not to squirm. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why betray your husband? I thought you two were quite the team. Saint seemed very... protective at the club."
"Our marriage was arranged." The bitterness in my voice surprises even me. "Saint was fun, but I'm not done playing." That's pretty much what Saint said to me, and yet, I still feel a zing of guilt at my words.
Alexei's brow raises. "And your brother?" He leans forward. "You'd betray your brother so easily? Not just to your husband, but to his greatest enemy?"