“Idiot,” I mutter to myself, already reaching for my phone. The clock reads two in the morning, but I shove the detail aside.
Unlocking it, my thumb hovers over the screen for a beat before I decide to follow through, hitting the only pinned contact I have.
Patch.
The call almost goes to voicemail before he picks up, sounding groggy and gruff from sleep. “You alive?”
“Barely,” I reply, rubbing at my temples.
“Alive enough to call this late…was it that bad?”
“Worse.”
Patch exhales slowly, and I can picture him sitting back in bed, forcing his focus to sharpen as he manages easily. He has a way of listening and dissecting things down to the finest detail. It’s partly why I trust him, not only with business affairs, but also to keep me grounded.
“Start talking.”
I let a beat settle between us before I finally come out with it. “I married Elena Lukov.”
Silence fills the blanks, and I can practically hear the gears turning in his head.
“You didwhat?”
“I married her. As in, legally.”
There’s another pocket of quiet before he scoffs in quiet disbelief. “You don’t like associating with anyone…you’ve been allergic to any kind of attachment for years.”
I force out a breath. “I know.”
“And now you’re connected to one of the most volatile families in the entire state.”
“I know.”
“You did all of this sober?”
“Unfortunately.”
Patch sighs. “How in God’s name did you possibly get yourself tangled up with Elena Lukov? She’s a popular socialite…how did you not know it was her?”
“You know I don’t care about that kind of thing. Not when it doesn’t involve me directly, at least,” I mutter, running an exasperated hand through my hair. “I couldn’t tell Elena from any popular brat in this city. I fucked up, I know.”
“What happened to handling Vito?”
“I was moments away from doing exactly that, but he bargained with me. She was strapped to a chair, and he was going to sell her to the Grimaldis. Or the Balakins…whichever paid more,” I tell him, jaw tight just from thinking about it. “Even if I should’ve, I couldn’t just leave her there.”
“So the bastard’s still breathing?”
“Unfortunately…again.”
Patch takes another long, deep breath, and I know he’s already considering every angle like usual.
I feel like an idiot for even having to admit all of this, but before I can try to further defend myself, he hums.
“You did fuck up, but maybe not in the way you think you did.”
Pausing, my brows furrow instinctively. “Enlighten me.”
“You’re looking at this like you were handed the blade…but you were given the handle. You can use it if you play your cards right.”
