In the darkness, I count my breaths and plan.
One. Two. Three.
CHAPTER 4
Gemma
I don't sleep.
All night, I lie there planning and calculating as I listen to Saint’s breathing beside me.
Last night changed things. Maybe not for him, but for me. I feel a hunger developing inside of me, and I can't ignore it.
I need to do something. I need to find an outlet for this energy, for this idea. I need to take control.
I’ve been married for almost three months, and the idea of just sitting in the house waiting to get fucked every night makes my skin crawl.
No, there’s more to be done. Saint gave me an opening, and now, I need to take it.
It’s what my mother would have done.
I wake at eight, and Saint is long gone, but I feel refreshed. I eat the breakfast left outside my door, shower, and dress.
At nine, I find Lyla in the kitchen.
"I need to see Saint," I tell her. "Where does he work?" It’s kind of ridiculous I don’t know it, and I can tell from the surprised look on her face she’s shocked by the question.
I've never asked to leave the compound to see Saint. Hell, we basically avoid one another unless absolutely necessary.
And yet, here I am, asking about him.
"He's at the shipping office in Long Island City. But Mrs. Marini, he doesn't like to be disturbed during?—"
"Can you call me a car? Or do I need permission from Antonio?" I wish I'd paid more attention to how things work here. Whenever I've gone out, a car has been waiting, but that’s when I want to have shopping or lunch—approved activities.
This is something else.
Lyla is already on the phone. "I'll have Emmanuel drive you. He's been assigned to you. He’ll act as your driver and guard.”
I feel stupid for not realizing this, but oh well. Time is of the essence, and I’m not interested in sitting around and dwelling on what I should have done.
“Thank you, Lyla,” I say, grabbing an apple and taking a huge bite as I walk to the front entrance.
Twenty minutes later, I'm in the back of a black SUV, watching Queens slide past the window. My heart pounds, my earlier confidence shriveling up slightly as I’ve had more time to mull over this plan. This could go very wrong. Saint could laugh at me, dismiss me, get angry that I showed up uninvited.
And that’s the good reactions.
He could do a number of things including go to his uncle, or worse, my brother, which would be very, very bad.
But I have to try. If I don't, I worry I am going to wither and die in his mansion, and you can't get an heir out of a corpse.
That’s the crux of it. Saint wants something from me. He wants a child, so that his uncle will get off his back. I was stupid not to see it before, but that, that desire, it gives me leverage.
Not much, but I can work with it.
The shipping office is in a converted warehouse near the docks. Emmanuel parks and opens my door.
"I'll wait here, Mrs. Marini."
