Chapter 30
Saint
There are few times in my life where I've stayed my hand. Tonight was one of them.
Gemma locked herself in the bathroom. Even from outside the door, I hear her crying. Deep, muffled, painful sobs. She's trying to stop. Every so often, I hear her gasping for air, trying to catch her breath.
Then, she starts up again.
I fucking hate myself for this.
I hate myself for not finding a way to be better. Not finding a way out of this marriage.
Not because I don't love her.
I do. I love her more than I could ever love a single person. Hell, I'm not sure I could love my own child as much as I love Gemma. The feelings are that intense.
Outside of Antonio, Gemma is the only person I've ever seen as my equal. She's smart, cut-throat, and willing to do whatever is necessary to survive.
No, I should have let her go the second I started to feel anything for her.
I can't lie to her. Yes, I feel like she's my equal, but we will never be that in the way that she needs. If that's what she wants she should divorce me. Not that I'd ever fucking let her do that. She's mine. She'll always be mine.
Equality though…
That's not something I can give her. Not in this world. My men would oust me in a moment. It might be the new millennium for the rest of the world, but in ours, the patriarchy is alive and well.
Another sob sounds from the bathroom, and it rips into me.
Every instinct screams at me to break down the door, and to tell her whatever she wants to hear, but I can't.
She asked for space, and if I've learned anything, it's that not listening to what she asks is what got us here.
So, I give her space. I pick myself up off our bed. A bed that holds a lot of fucked up memories. And I leave.
Morning comes, and my wife is back to locking herself in the bathroom. I know because when I go to deliver her breakfast, she's not in our bed. When I knock on the bathroom door, she tells me to go away.
I don't.
Last night, I didn't fucking sleep. I couldn't. I needed her. Wanted her. Couldn't stomach the idea of her alone in our bed, again.
So here I am, pining outside of her door like a teenage boy.
"Gemma. Please. At least eat something," I shift the tray in my hands. "Lyla made muffins. The kind you like with the citrus." The nastiest ones she makes, in my personal opinion, but she loves making them for Gemma.
"I'm not hungry."
I close my eyes, count to ten to try and calm myself.
"You need to eat. I know it feels good to control something—"
"I said I'm fine!" Her voice cracks. "I'll eat. I just…Please. Just... leave me alone."
I rest my forehead against the door. I miss the days when we were on the same fucking page. It feels like so long ago. "I love you."
Silence. The words are hard for me to say. I don't think I've ever even said them to another person. And yet, here I am. Opening my fucking heart out and handing it to her on a tray.
I try not to feel bitter that the door is still closed in my face.
"I know I'm shit at showing it. I know I fucked up, but I do love you, Gemma. And I don't know how to fix this if you are hiding from me." I flex my hand to keep myself from kicking the door in and making her listen to me. "I'm not good with this type of shit."
More silence.
I can hear her breathing on the other side of the door.
"I need time, Saint. Please."
I slam my hand, open-palmed, on the wood. "Fine," I mutter. I'm being an asshole, but it's the best I've got right now.
I leave because that's what she asked for.
Besides, business never stops, and I have things to take care of. The Russians were only one of the problems I need to mop up. There are more than one, but this one, I can control.
I don't tell anyone where I'm going. No guards. No Marcello.
I just take my car and drive over to the Nero mansion.
It's time to settle a fucking score. Artem is handled, or rather, he decided to not currently be a threat, but that doesn't mean all threats are neutralized.
I need to hit something, and Adrian feels like a good target.
It's mid-morning, and I know he'll be home. I learned his entire schedule when we were fucking with him, and I suspect he does little deviation.
The guards recognize me. After a beat and a call into their phones, they let me in. Why wouldn't they? I'm allied with Adrian—family.
He probably thinks I'm here to talk about Artem. Maybe we will get to that in the future, but right now, I have bigger issues with the asshole.
I walk through the house. Past staff. Past guards. Straight to his office.
I don't knock; I just let myself inside.
Adrian looks up. "Saint. I heard—"
I cross the room in three strides.
And I punch him in the face.
He goes down. His chair tips back with his weight, and he crashes to the floor.
"What the fuck—" He's reaching for something. A gun, probably. I've got the upper hand here, and I use it. I'm not noble, and I have no issue fighting dirty.
Plus, Adrian can fuck off.
I step on his hand, kick his gun away with my other foot, and bring my knee to his head.
He's dazed, on the ground, but not hurt badly enough to not get my point.
"Get up."
"Have you lost your fucking mind?" His silver eyes, identical to Gemma's are searching the room. His guards will be here soon, so I need to enjoy this while I can.
"Get up!" I roar.
He gets up, slowly, hand wiping blood from his nose. "I'm going to fucking…"
I punch him again, harder this time.
He stumbles back, hitting his desk.
I can hear footsteps down the hall. I'd locked the door when I stormed in.
Discreetly.
This isn't my first rodeo, so to speak.
"You put your hands on my wife." My voice is deadly calm. "You beat her. Strangled her. Disowned her. Made her cry."
"She betrayed—"
"I don't give a fuck what she did!" I grab him by his collar, pull him closer. "You're her brother. You were supposed to protect her. And you destroyed her."
"She fucking—"
"She was desperate! She was scared! She was married to a man who treated her like property!
" I shove him back. I'm breathing hard filled with rage.
Until the day I die, the sight of Adrian putting his hands on Gemma will haunt me, and there's nothing I can do to change that, but I can make him hurt just as badly.
"She went to the Russians—"
"Because we pushed her there! Both of us!
" I'm shouting now. I'm angry. Not just at Adrian.
At myself. Because Gemma is right, I fucked up.
I didn't trust her, and I didn't care what she felt, and I went to Adrian to save my own ass.
"You sold her to me. I used her. We both treated her like a thing instead of a person.
And when she broke? When she made mistakes? You beat her for it."
"I was protecting my family."
We both were, but who the fuck protected Gemma? Isn't she part of both of our families?
Guards are at the door yelling.
"Shut the fuck up!" Adrian yells in return. "We're fucking fine."
There's scuffling in the background—clearly no one knows what they are supposed to do.
"We aren't fine," I snap. "I'm going to kill you."
Adrian cackles. I always forget the fucker is just as crazy as I am. He hides it better. "You're unarmed. I felt it when you grabbed me. No gun."
I smile wide. "I don't need a gun to kill you."
I punch him again. This time he's expecting it, and he moves faster than I anticipate. I stumble due to the momentum.
"What the fuck do you want me to do, Saint?" he sneers. "You want me to ask your sorry ass for absolution?"
"There's nothing you can fucking say to me that will make this better."
He chuckles, and my fingers itch to rip his tongue out of his face. "You aren't pissed at me. You're pissed at yourself." He spits out a glob of blood and phlegm at my feet. "She's your wife, and you handed her to me on a silver platter. Not my problem that you regret it."
I take a step towards him, but his fist catches me on the side of the jaw. Not hard enough to knock me out, but I stumble. "Fuck!"
Adrian flexes his hand. "Are you done?"
"No. I'm not fucking done." I go to grab him, but he sidesteps me. "You're going to fix this. You're going to un-disown her. Give her back her name. Her family. Everything you took."
"I'm not," Adrian takes off his suit jacket and dabs at his face with his pocket square. It pisses me off that he's so nonchalant.
"She is your sister. Your blood. You fix this, or I'll fucking kill you. I don't give a fuck about the contract."
He's quiet for a long moment. Looking at me. Really looking. Those silver eyes, that I adore on Gemma, piss me off when I see them on Adrian.
"What?" I snarl. "Do you think I won't kill you? Do you think I give a fuck about you?"
"You love her." He chuckles. "You love her, and you realize how fucked up it was to do what you did."
I'm breathing heavy. I don't know when that started.
"You let another man lay a hand on the woman you love, and now, you have to live with that."
His words slice through me like a knife. He might as well have slipped one between my ribs.
He moves to his desk. Sits, and gestures to the other seat. "Sit."
"I'm not—"
"Sit. Saint, fuck." His voice is different, tired. "Let me tell you something."
I sit, interested.
Adrian pours two drinks and slides one to me. "Sera's pregnant."
"I'm aware."
"Twin girls."
"Why the fuck are you telling me this?" I ask, confused. "No offense, but I don't give a fuck about your offspring."
Gemma and I have not talked children or pregnancy once in weeks. Not since we learned she wasn't pregnant, and just like Gemma felt slighted by Sera's ease of getting knocked up, I can't help the tight feeling in my chest thinking about Adrian having twin girls.
Is he rubbing this in my face? Soon, he will have three children while I haven't been able to produce one.
But as I look at his face, I realize, he's not rubbing it in.
His eyes are far away as he rubs the blood from his nose.