It's not a request, and I don't treat it as such.
"Of course."
He moves toward the door, then pauses. "Gemma. I'm not a monster. I want you to be happy here. But happiness is a luxury that sometimes comes after duty."
He leaves before I can respond.
I wonder if he has ever been happy.
I close my eyes, thinking about a picture I saw. Antonio, a lovely woman, and a gaggle of boys.
Yes, Antonio has known happiness.
Bastard.
I force myself to shower and put on real clothes. A deep purple dress, appropriate for a family dinner. I apply makeup to hide the dark circles under my eyes and cover up the hollow look that's starting to settle into my face.
My sleep has been shit, and after five days, it shows. I need a spray tan, Botox, and a trip to Fiji.
Maybe one I won't return from.
Saint comes to collect me at six fifty-five, dressed in dark slacks and a black button-down. I can see one of his tattoos peeking out. He looks me over with the clinical assessment I'm getting used to.
"You look acceptable," he says, his eyes roaming over me.
I give him the finger. "Thanks. You look like a sociopath."
His mouth twitches. Almost a smile. "The therapist Antonio made me see as a teen would agree."
I itch to ask questions, but I don't.
We walk to the dining room in silence, and I take in my surroundings now that I have a guide.
The Marini compound is massive, maybe even bigger than the Nero one. But where my mother favored marble, creams, and golds, this is all dark wood and expensive sculpture. It's very masculine, screaming power and virility in a way that makes me smirk.
Antonio is already seated at the head of the table when we arrive. He stands, gesturing to the seats on either side of him. Saint takes the right. I take the left.
We are silent as we take our seats and begin.
Lyla serves the first course. It's some kind of soup that smells rich and buttery.
"I'm glad you could join us," Antonio says, lifting his wine glass. "To family."
Saint and I echo the toast. I take the smallest sip possible, wanting to keep my wits about me.
"Tell me, Gemma," Antonio says. "How are you finding married life?"
"Lovely, especially since Saint works so much."
Saint hides a laugh.
Antonio gives me a small smile, clearly entertained. "I'm aware that my nephew can be a handful."
"I'm sitting right here," Saint says flatly.
"I know. Which is why I'm being polite about it." Antonio turns back to me. "I have three sons. Did Saint mention them?"
"No."
