Which is why I'm standing next to him outside of my family's mansion, even though it's absolutely the last place I'd like to be. I've been putting off this family dinner for months, but with everything happening, Adrian has insisted.
Saint's hand is warm against my lower back. "We can leave. Say you're sick." He's being attentive, which is nice, butunnecessary. I don't want to be here, but I'm not going to run from Adrian.
"I'm fine."
Saint sighs. "Adrian isn't going to be pleased. He's given me a seat at the table, and several warehouses, and he's still getting hit. I don't want him to take his anger out on you."
It's sweet that Saint wants to protect me, but I don't need it.
"Adrian is going to bite his tongue tonight," I say. "This invite isn't from him. It's from Sera, and he'll do anything he can to please her."
Saint's green eyes search me, and I try not to fold under the intense pressure of his stare. "Fine, but if you want to go, we go." He holds out his arm, escorting me from the car to the front door. I ignore the guards that I see, trying to calm my nerves as we enter my family home.
It opens before we can knock with my brother Luc appearing on the other side. I'm surprised to see him; I figured he would have gone back to L.A. after my wedding. If he's still in town, it means Adrian is circling the wagons. Luc is the family mediator—he only stays when Adrian needs someone to smooth things over or assess a situation. His presence means Adrian is worried enough to keep all his pieces on the board.
I hold back a smirk at the thought.
Adrian hates when Luc is in town.
This is so delicious.
"Gemma," he goes to hug me, but Saint pulls me back. Luc glares, but he doesn't make another move. "You look nice."
"Thank you." I brush past him into the foyer.
Luc might not have played the same role in my forced marriage, but he made no move to stop it.
It's been months since I've been home, and even longer since my mother passed, and it strikes me how everything looks the same.
It's disconcerting, and I can't help the part of me that longs to see my mother turn the corner and greet me with a hug and air kiss.
She doesn't. Instead, my sister-in-law appears.
She looks radiant. Glowing. Her hand rests on a small but visible baby bump.
She's pregnant.
Again.
Because of course she is.
"It's so good to see you." Sera pulls me in for a hug. The hardness of her rounding stomach bumps mine, and I feel ill. "I've missed you. I haven't seen you since we did coffee a few months ago."
I hug her back stiffly. Sera is effusive in her affection, touchier than any of us are used to, and as much as I like her, I'm still getting used to how warm she can be.
"How's Angelo?" I ask.
Sera smiles, and I don't miss the light in her eyes—a mother's love. "He's perfect. I wish he could have stayed up to see you, but he's been teething, and he needed to sleep," she laughs. "For all our sakes."
I nod, ready to suggest lunch so we can catch up, when Adrian emerges, and the entire conversation halts.
My brother looks tired. Older. There are new lines around his eyes, and his mouth is turned down in a frown. I swear I even spot a touch of gray at his temples.
Being Don isn't as easy as he thought it would be. And I haven't been helping.
Good. I want him to suffer.
That's the whole fucking point.
