My vision still blurry with tears, I spin on my heel and rush at Giovanni. He’s not going to get away with this without Dante knowing it was him.
And then a shot blasts out, and I fall.
20
DANTE
“Ruby!” I toss my weapon aside and run towards my shaking wife, who is on her knees before Giovanni’s dead body.
The fear and adrenaline pulse through my limbs. Thank god that I had the idea of the wives joining us for this meeting, and that Marco agreed. Otherwise, fuck. My wife would be dead right now, not my treacherous second-in-command.
She looks up with eyes full of tears, and starts babbling something about trust and Giovanni.
“Are you hurt?” I try to interrupt, while also checking around us for anyone else who might be involved. Some of my men have come running at the sound of the gunshot. I’m on my knees on the ground with Ruby, trying to understand what Ruby is talking about, calm my own out-of-control heartbeat, and throw commands over my shoulder to my men about securing the perimeter.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Tears slide down her cheeks as I touch her arm and try to find where she’s injured since she won’t tell me.
I can’t feel any injury.
“You didn’t hesitate,” she says, as though that was a possibility.
“You were in danger. I’ll never stop if you’re in danger, tesorina,” I reply firmly.
“I thought you’d… Because Giovanni is so loyal…”
“He was raising a gun at you,” I say. I don’t know why he did this, but that’s a question for after Ruby is safe and content. “He was dead to me the moment he tried to hurt you.”
“You chose me?” She sounds a bit stunned, and heaves a sob.
“Of course I chose you. Tesorina, come here.” I gather her to me awkwardly, because she’s all legs and arms folded in to protect herself. But I manage, and my stress reduces with her proximity. “You’re my wife.”
“I’m sorry,” she says into my shirt, attempting to hide, and none of this makes sense. “Maybe Giovanni was right.”
“About what?” I stroke her hair and try to tip her face to look at me, but she stubbornly keeps her face down.
She shakes her head slowly and continues to cry. I bring my hand to her cheek, trying to see her and understand. As quickly as I wipe away the tears, there are new ones to take their place. And as much as her heart is obviously breaking, mine is too.
“Ruby.” I make my voice deeper. Commanding.
“It doesn’t matter. The annulment will come through soon and then you’ll be rid of me.”
My forehead creases as her words sink in. And suddenly, I know that whatever I told myself about only keeping her close and protected, that will never be enough. Not just for me, but for her.
I tighten my fist in her hair. “I haven’t signed the annulment.”
She finally looks up at me. Her eyes are pink. Her hair is all over the place. Her face is a bit blotchy from crying, and she’s distinctly soggy.
She’s perfect. Beautiful.
“But…” She trails off, confused.
I take a deep breath. “I’m not going to annul our marriage. I wasneverintending to.”
An expression of complete confusion overtakes her face, as though I’ve told her I’m an alien made of cheese.
“Why not?” she asks in a small voice.
Weightlessness lifts me, like when you realise your shot was fatal. A life-changing—ending—moment. It’s heady with power and consequences.
