Good. Better she's shocked than arguing.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, Alexei's offer sits. Waiting.
Not because I'll take it. But because he was right about one thing:
When Antonio dies, I'll need allies. I'll need power. I'll need backing.
And right now, I don't have enough of any of those things.
CHAPTER 12
Gemma
My period comes exactly seven days after Saint tells me our partnership is over.
Seven days of him barely speaking to me. Seven days of him disappearing into meetings with Antonio, with the captains, with everyone except me.
Seven days of being relegated back to the lonely bedroom full of endless waiting.
And now this.
Blood.
Failure.
Another month gone.
I stare at the evidence in the bathroom, hands shaking.
Almost six months of Saint inside me every night, and nothing to show for it except the growing certainty that something must be wrong with me.
I can't get pregnant.
Can't provide intel anymore.
Can't even hold his attention for more than a few hours before he remembers I'm just the useless wife he's stuck with.
This thing, you feeding me intel, it stops. Tonight.
He'd said it like he was protecting me. Like ending our partnership was noble. Like I should be grateful for his protection.
But all I heard was: You're not useful anymore. We're done.
I'd wanted to believe I was wrong, but ever since that night, he's been missing from our bed, and my life. He's not unkind. Not like he used to be, and in some ways, that is almost worse.
At least when he was a dick, he cared enough to fight with me. Now, he's just—gone.
I grip the bathroom counter, staring at my reflection.
When did I become this? When did I start measuring my worth by what I could give Saint? When did his attention become more important than my own survival?
You're falling in love with him, a voice whispers. And he doesn't even see you anymore. He's going to get rid of you, just like your family.
I shake those thoughts off.
I can't think about that. Can't examine the way my chest tightens when Saint walks into a room, or the way I listen for his footsteps at night, or the way I've started to need him in a way that has nothing to do with strategy or safety.
I splash cold water on my face and focus on pulling myself together.
