I want to ask more questions, but I don't think I can talk without my voice trembling, and I refuse to give Saint the satisfaction of knowing I'm terrified.
The car starts moving. I watch the streets pass, trying to figure out where we're headed.
Then I see it. The turn onto the street I grew up on.
"We're going to Adrian's?" My voice rises. "Saint, why are we going to Adrian's? It's two in the morning?—"
"He wants to see you."
Panic claws at my throat. There's no way this is good.
"Is Sera alright? Angelo?" God, did Alexei make a move. I feel sick, and I almost scream for Emmanuel to pull over, so I could spill my guts.
But then, Saint finally looks at me, and what I see in his eyes makes my blood run cold.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
He's not reacting.
And I know, instinctually, I know what this means.
"Saint." My hand reaches for his. "What did you do?"
He pulls away. "What needed to be done." He doesn't look at me again. His eyes are straight ahead—dead.
The car stops in front of the Nero mansion. It looks so different from the place I've grown up. I wonder, as we step outside, if it was always so foreboding.
Luc is waiting at the door. His face is grim.
"Gemma." He looks at Saint. "You sure about this?"
"It's done."
"What's done?" I'm looking between them. "Someone tell me what's happening—" My tone is high-pitched, practically a screech, as panic sets inside my chest. My heart is beating so fast, I worry it's going to explode. I press a hand to my sternum, trying to ease that ache.
"Inside," Saint says. His hand finds my elbow. Not gentle. Guiding. Firm.
I try to pull away, but he presses his fingers into my elbow. "Saint, I'm not going in there until you tell me?—"
"Now, Gemma." His grip tightens so hard, I nearly buckle. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."
Luc opens the door all the way, allowing Saint to walk me through. We go down the familiar hallway. Past the formal living room where Bianca used to hold court. Past the dining room where we had family dinners.
To Adrian's study.
The door is open. My brother stands behind his desk, face like thunder.
He knows. I know he knows.
I freeze. My weight deadens, and I would have fallen to the ground if Saint hadn't been holding on to me.
Saint's hand on my back propels me inside, and I nearly fall on the antique oriental that once belonged to my mother.
Tears of embarrassment and betrayal prickle, but I refuse to let them fall.
"Gemma." Adrian's voice could freeze blood. "Sit down."
"What's going on?" I look back at Saint. He's standing by the door. Arms crossed. Face blank. "Saint, what?—"
