I freeze. "What?"
Marcello places a hand on his forehead and looks up at the ceiling as though praying for patience. "You didn't read it all, did you?" Marcello's voice is almost sympathetic. "The fine print. If either party acts against the alliance, betrays the other family's interests, the contract is void and the offended party receives territorial compensation."
"Meaning?" Shit. Fuck. I hadn't read the contract. I'd been pissed when Antonio made it clear that I'd be marrying Gemma, and I'd acted like a fucking child.
Divorce isn't a thing in our world, so I imagined the contract was simply a financial exchange to cement the alliance.
"If Adrian proves Gemma betrayed the Neros, and you willingly knew about it, he gets sixty percent of Marini territory. The docks. The unions. Half our legitimate businesses." He lets that sink in. "We'll be gutted. Weak. Easy pickings for the Morozovs or anyone else who wants to make a move."
I sit down heavily. "Sixty percent." Fuck. That would be the end of us. Not only would we lose everything, but we would be easy pickings. Alexei wants Nero land, and I handed him everything he needed to take Marini. "Why the hell would Antonio agree to that? And how do you know?"
"I helped draft it," he says. "Antonio negotiated hard, but Bianca had leverage. Antonio made some bad moves early on, and he took some money from the Neros. They never called it in—the father had just died and things were in transition. The costs would have drained us." He pauses. "She wanted us by the balls."
"And no one thought to mention this to me?"
"It was in the contract," Marcello says. "You signed it."
I glare. "Antonio knew I wasn't reading that shit. I didn't want to fucking marry Gemma to begin with." I hadn't even attended the discussions. I'd been invited, and I'd stuck an imaginary finger up at it.
Now, I regret that.
"Antonio didn't think it would be an issue. I don't think he foresaw your wife working with the Russians." Marcello's voice is flat.
I put my head in my hands.
"What are my options?"
Marcello sits across from me again. "Option one: go to Adrian. Confess that Gemma has been feeding intel to Alexei. Take responsibility. Negotiate a settlement. Maybe we only lose forty percent instead of sixty."
"And Gemma?"
He shrugs. "Not your problem anymore. You hand her over."
"Option two?" I try not to cringe at what he's saying.
"Clean house. Kill Alexei. Eliminate anyone who knows about Gemma's betrayal. Hope Adrian doesn't figure it out." He leans forward. "But that's risky. If Adrian finds out later that we knew and hid it, he'll want blood. Plus?—"
"Killing Alexei starts a war with the Russians."
He nods.
"Fuck," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. "So, my choices are betray my wife or lose the family." Both options are shitty.
"If it helps, she did betray you first."
We sit in silence.
"I can't do it," I say finally. "I can't give her up. In the beginning, we were fucking with Adrian, which means I'm also complicit. I pushed her to go to Alexei."
"Then the family falls." Marcello's voice is matter-of-fact. "The captains will push me to take over. They'll cite yourinability to make hard decisions. Your emotional compromises. And honestly, Saint? They'd be right." He doesn't mention that he'd be inheriting basically nothing. I appreciate that.
"You'd take it. The position. A nice boy like you?" My voice is laced with sarcasm.
He rolls his eyes. Marcello has never been as easily rattled as others. "If I have to. To save the family." He stands. "But I'd rather not. I meant it when I said Antonio chose right. You're a better Don than I'd be. You just need to get your fucking house in order."
"How?"
"I don't know. But you need to figure it out. Fast." He moves to the door, pauses. "For what it's worth? I'm sorry. My father forced you into a shit position, and your wife didn't help."
