Chapter 16 #2
"It's true and you know it." He pulls out his phone, shows me photos. Gemma entering Eclipse. Gemma meeting with someone in an alley—could be Alexei, could be one of his men. Gemma receiving a package from a Morozov soldier. "How long did you think this would stay hidden?"
I barely react. Marcello isn't going to use this to bury me. If he were, he'd have done it by now. He wants something else.
"How long have you known?"
"Dad wanted her followed. He didn't trust Bianca Nero, and by default…" He pockets the phone. "Antonio knew you were too deep in it to think clearly."
"I hated her," I remind him. "I made that very clear."
Marcello shrugs. "Love. Hate. Two sides of a very confusing coin. Dad wanted the family protected. He thought she might be a plant. He respected Bianca, but he knew how she operated."
I glance at the file. "Who else knows?"
"No one, yet, but Saint, it won't stay quiet for long, especially considering what you did to Alexei."
I snort. "He's not going to talk."
"He'd love nothing more, and when he does, the Neros and the captains are going to be gunning for you and her."
I narrow my eyes. "What are you suggesting?"
"Get rid of her."
I grab him by the collar before I can stop myself and slam him into the wall. "Watch what you fucking say."
He doesn't flinch. "Hit me if you want. Won't change the facts."
I release him. Step back. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.
"There's more," he says, straightening his jacket. "Adrian is closing in on her."
I snort. "Adrian can't find his cock to take a piss," I mutter. "And I've handled him."
Marcello shakes his head. "You did a shit job at it. He's slowly making his way through every contact he can drum up, and if they don't speak, he sends them to their wives in pieces. Only a matter of time before he gets to someone who can squeal."
"He won't kill her. Code. No wives," I shake my head. "Besides, she is his sister. He's a cold fucker, but I can't see him killing his blood."
"He won't kill her," Marcello agrees. "But he'll invoke the marriage contract."
I freeze. "What?"
Marcello places a hand on his forehead and looks up at the ceiling as though praying for patience.
"You didn't read it all, did you?" Marcello's voice is almost sympathetic.
"The fine print. If either party acts against the alliance, betrays the other family's interests, the contract is void and the offended party receives territorial compensation. "
"Meaning?" Shit. Fuck. I hadn't read the contract. I'd been pissed when Antonio made it clear that I'd be marrying Gemma, and I'd acted like a fucking child.
Divorce isn't a thing in our world, so I imagined the contract was simply a financial exchange to cement the alliance.
"If Adrian proves Gemma betrayed the Neros, and you willingly knew about it, he gets sixty percent of Marini territory. The docks. The unions. Half our legitimate businesses." He lets that sink in. "We'll be gutted. Weak. Easy pickings for the Morozovs or anyone else who wants to make a move."
I sit down heavily. "Sixty percent." Fuck. That would be the end of us. Not only would we lose everything, but we would be easy pickings. Alexei wants Nero land, and I handed him everything he needed to take Marini. "Why the hell would Antonio agree to that? And how do you know?"
"I helped draft it," he says. "Antonio negotiated hard, but Bianca had leverage.
Antonio made some bad moves early on, and he took some money from the Neros.
They never called it in—the father had just died and things were in transition.
The costs would have drained us." He pauses. "She wanted us by the balls."
"And no one thought to mention this to me?"
"It was in the contract," Marcello says. "You signed it."
I glare. "Antonio knew I wasn't reading that shit. I didn't want to fucking marry Gemma to begin with." I hadn't even attended the discussions. I'd been invited, and I'd stuck an imaginary finger up at it.
Now, I regret that.
"Antonio didn't think it would be an issue. I don't think he foresaw your wife working with the Russians." Marcello's voice is flat.
I put my head in my hands.
"What are my options?"
Marcello sits across from me again. "Option one: go to Adrian. Confess that Gemma has been feeding intel to Alexei. Take responsibility. Negotiate a settlement. Maybe we only lose forty percent instead of sixty."
"And Gemma?"
He shrugs. "Not your problem anymore. You hand her over."
"Option two?" I try not to cringe at what he's saying.
"Clean house. Kill Alexei. Eliminate anyone who knows about Gemma's betrayal. Hope Adrian doesn't figure it out." He leans forward. "But that's risky. If Adrian finds out later that we knew and hid it, he'll want blood. Plus—"
"Killing Alexei starts a war with the Russians."
He nods.
"Fuck," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. "So, my choices are betray my wife or lose the family." Both options are shitty.
"If it helps, she did betray you first."
We sit in silence.
"I can't do it," I say finally. "I can't give her up. In the beginning, we were fucking with Adrian, which means I'm also complicit. I pushed her to go to Alexei."
"Then the family falls." Marcello's voice is matter-of-fact.
"The captains will push me to take over.
They'll cite your inability to make hard decisions.
Your emotional compromises. And honestly, Saint?
They'd be right." He doesn't mention that he'd be inheriting basically nothing. I appreciate that.
"You'd take it. The position. A nice boy like you?" My voice is laced with sarcasm.
He rolls his eyes. Marcello has never been as easily rattled as others. "If I have to. To save the family." He stands. "But I'd rather not. I meant it when I said Antonio chose right. You're a better Don than I'd be. You just need to get your fucking house in order."
"How?"
"I don't know. But you need to figure it out. Fast." He moves to the door, pauses. "For what it's worth? I'm sorry. My father forced you into a shit position, and your wife didn't help."
He leaves.
I sit there, staring at nothing.
Two options. Both terrible.
Betray Gemma to save the family.
Or destroy the family to protect her.
Antonio's voice echoes in my head: "Promise me you'll do what's necessary. For the family. Always for the family."
I promised.
But what if doing what's necessary means losing the only person who makes me feel human?
It's past midnight when I finally go to our bedroom.
Gemma is in the bathroom. I hear retching.
I'm through the door before I can think. How fucking dare she do this? Now?
Is this the reason she's so thin?
She's on the floor, hugging the toilet, body shaking. Her face is pale, hair plastered to her forehead with sweat.
"What the fuck, Gemma?"
She waves me off. "Go away." I notice her hand is shaking.
I reach for her, but she kicks out her leg, stopping me.
"Seriously?" I snap. I want to strangle her. Maybe, I'll kill her, and then, all my fucking problems would be solved. But I can't. The idea makes me want to join her in spilling my guts into the toilet. "Antonio's not even cold in the ground, and you are starting this shit."
She wipes the back of her mouth with a shaky hand. "What?" she asks. I notice her eyes are glazed, and there's a sheen of sweat on her forehead.
"Why are you vomiting?"
She looks at me like I'm stupid. "I'm sick."
"Really?" My voice is laced with sarcasm. "You were fine earlier."
She goes to argue with me, all we seem to do these days, but before she can speak, she's retching in the bowl. Nothing comes up, but she gags, tears streaming down her face, as she tries to catch her breath.
I'm by her side immediately. "Easy," I say, rubbing her back.
She looks up at me, snot and tears on her face.
"How long have you been sick?"
"I don't know. A couple of days. A week?" She's trembling. "It comes and goes. Must be stress."
I press my hand to her forehead. No fever, but she's clammy from the vomiting. "Any other symptoms?"
She shakes her head. "Not really." She leans back against me. "I need to go to the doctor but with everything…"
"Have you eaten today?"
"I tried. Couldn't keep it down, and I needed to be able to stand by your side."
My mind is racing. Doing math. Several weeks since the alley, but even more since the beach…
"When was your last period?"
She looks at me, confused. Then understanding dawns. Her eyes go wide.
"I don't... I haven't..." She's counting in her head. "Six weeks? Maybe seven?"
Seven weeks.
She could be pregnant.
The timing lines up. The beach. When I'd taken her sweetly. Before I knew what she was doing.
"You need to test," I say.
"I might just be late. Stress can—"
"Gemma." I make her look at me. "We need to know."
Because if she's pregnant, everything changes.
The captains can't push Marcello if I'm about to have an heir. That's what they want.
Adrian will be less likely to strip his niece or nephew of their inheritance. And Gemma, she'll have a reason to be at home. To be fucking safe.
But if she's not...
I'm out of time.
"There are tests in the cabinet," she says quietly. "I bought them weeks ago. Been too scared to use them."
I get three, hand them to her.
"All of them. To be sure."
She nods, takes them with shaking hands. I wait.
"Can you leave?" she asks, voice soft.
I leave her alone in the bathroom. Not in the mood to argue. Pace the bedroom. Every minute feels like an hour.
Finally, the door opens.
She stands there, three white sticks in her hand.
Her face is unreadable.
"Well?" My voice is rough.
She looks up at me. And I see it in her eyes before she says the words.
"I'm pregnant."
The world tilts.
Six months of trying. Six months of failure. And now, in the middle of the worst crisis of my life, when everything is falling apart—
Now she's pregnant.
"Are you sure?"
She hands me the tests. All three are positive. Clear as day.
I sit down on the bed heavily.
An heir. Antonio's dying wish. The thing that will secure my position. The thing that will save us from the marriage contract provisions.
The thing that ties me to Gemma forever.
I should be happy. Relieved. Victorious.
Instead, I feel like the walls are closing in on me. Because while I've done what my uncle wanted, I've also screwed myself.
Because now I can't give her to Adrian. Can't sacrifice her to save the family.
She's carrying my child. The heir. The future.
And I'm more fucked than I've ever been.
Gemma sits beside me. Not touching. Just sitting.
"What do we do?" she whispers.
"I don't know."
For the first time in my life, I genuinely don't know.
"Saint—"
"I need to think." I stand. "I need to figure this out."
"Figure what out?"
I look at her. Really look at her. The woman I married. The woman I came to care for. The woman who betrayed me.
The woman carrying my child.
"Everything," I say. "I need to figure out everything."
I leave the bedroom before she can respond.
Down the hallway. To Antonio's study—my study. The place where I'm supposed to have answers.
I pour a drink. Drain it. Pour another.
Pregnant.
She's fucking pregnant.
The one thing that could save us. Or damn us completely.