"You have a chance to fix it."
"I can't un-disown her. The captains would see it as weakness. They'd question my authority." He leans back, closing his eyes slowly before reopening them. The silver of his irises are cold. "But I can...reach out. Privately. Let her know she's not completely cut off. That I—" He stops. "That I'm sorry."
He looks away, downing the rest of his drink. I know this was hard for him.
I don't fucking care though.
It's not enough. It'll never be enough.
"She won't forgive you."
He shrugs, his shoulders sagging a bit. "Maybe someday."
I roll my eyes at how little he knows his own sister. Gemma can hold a grudge until judgement day.
"What about you?" he asks.
"What about me?" I know what he's asking, but I don't want to discuss it. We aren't friends. And he can fuck off.
"Do you think you deserve absolution?"
I glare. "That's for Gemma to decide."
His brow raises. "I assume so far she's told you to fuck off, or else, you wouldn't be here trying to smash my face in."
"She doesn't know I'm here." I admit. I struggle for words. I always struggle when it comes to Gemma. "She deserves better than what we did."
Adrian studies me for a beat. His silver eyes glance up, down, and back up again. "You really mean that."
"Yes."
"Then prove it. Beating the shit out of me isn't going to make her forgive you. Saying sorry might."
He gets up from his desk and unlocks the door.
"Now, get the fuck out of my house."
The cemetery is quiet. Cold. Gray sky threatening rain.
I walk to Antonio's grave. Fresh flowers. Someone's been here recently. Probably Marcello, or one of his brothers.
I stand there. Looking at the headstone.
ANTONIO MARINI BELOVED FATHER, UNCLE, AND HUSBAND
Beloved father. Bullshit.
I used to think he was that. Until I learned he'd been setting us all up. Building us into weapons for the family. Me—the killer. Marcello—the strategist. There's no telling what his brothers were built to be.
Antonio didn't love. He used. He controlled. He manipulated.
Just like me.
I didn't even fucking see that until now. His last breath was used trying to force me to get rid of my wife, so he could have a fucking heir and make sure the Marini's continued their centuries long control of the family.
He didn't care about me.
"This is fucked up," I say it out loud. To the grave. To the man who made me what I am. "Gemma. I'm destroying her. You forced me to marry her. Then made me fuck her. And now, I fucking love her, and I don't know how to deal with that."
