The old G lifts a shoulder and lets it drop, the movement reminding me of Maksim. The corner of his lips lifting. “Most of them usually are until they’re fully formed. Even then, you aren’t guaranteed perfect execution. Which is why we have a clean-up crew.” He grins, and the men at the table laugh, nodding their heads in agreement. Tildy watches everything in amazement.
So, Sabrina sits, and only when she starts to explain Operation: Casino Night does she let go of his hand. Tildy jumps in, too, with perfect Italian. Next thing I know, breakfast is being served by Aleksi’s house staff, and she has me sit with them around the table to eat.
“E tu?” Aristide leans in my direction when the others have left the table, and since I know those words, I really hope I don't embarrass myself by butchering his tongue.
I think of the right words, then open my mouth. “I know you know what I am to her, what we are, and how our relationship works. I love Sabrina. I support her every decision unless it’s wrong. Even then I will follow her to the ends of the earth. I’m not gay, but I love your son as an extension of her. And he is. As am I. She is not herself without him, and I am not myself without her. It would be vice versa if the roles were reversed. And don’t get it wrong—just because there’s no ring on my finger or a title does not mean she loves me any less. We own her heart, and she owns ours.”
The old G tilts his head, glancing at his daughter-in-law, then back at me. “My wife… was my everything. On that terrible day, she had gone running alone. I always thought if maybe I had just one more person keeping an eye on her, she would be here today.” He clears his throat. “She reminds me of her a lot. I see the same fire. It’s in her eyes. You take care of her. You love her every day. Even when it is hard, Selvaggio—” I grin at the Italian word forSavage– “—and you be intentional. Every minute is not guaranteed.”
I dip my chin. “I can promise you that.”
“And you make sure my son treasures her. He is… stubborn.”
“I can promise you that, too, Mr. Giordano.”
“Ari, per favore.” He extends hishand, and I shake it.
It’s only when tea and coffee are being served that the talking becomes a soft murmur; Tildy begins tapping her index finger to the top of her mug, staring at Sabrina, lips pursed and eyes slightly narrowed. She looks at me like she has something real fucking peculiar she wants to say. I tap Sabrina’s thigh under the table and jut my chin to her mom when she glances at me.
I can tell Sabrina is seeing the same thing I’m seeing. How Tildy’s demeanor has changed extensively with an arch of a brow. “Spit it out, Mum.”
“There has only ever been one thing in this life I’m sure Kane has ever wanted and has fought for, Sabrina.”
I can feel when Sabrina holds her breath. “Well?”
“You. He negotiated for you. He stuck by your side as children. He watched over you. Did his best to protect you when he could. By the looks of things, you two were to be set in stone.”
Sabrina gags. “Oh, I’m sorry. That—” She gags again. She stands up quickly and goes to the bathroom, coming back later with watery, red-rimmed eyes, telling me that made her physically ill.
“That’s right, darling. Get it all out now. Because you’re about to have to swallow it all down later,” Tildy murmurs.
Sabrina leans against the wall, holding her stomach. “Mum. You can’t possibly be saying what I think you’re saying.”
“What isn’t she saying?” Aleksi asks out loud, obviously confused.
Tildy lifts the teacup, resting her elbows on the table, pinkies out. “The next course of action is to seduce the little Syndicate prince.”
Sabrina gags, covering her mouth with a trembling hand, then stomps her foot. “MUM! STOP IT! I’m wearing Dior!”
“Oh yes, darling. I’m afraid your acting skills are about to be put to the very test.”
She gags again, then groans. “Oh, fuck me.”
Chapter Eight
Sabrina.
Striding through the doors of Winters & Co Law Firm feels like being stabbed in the stomach by a very dull knife. Painful and sickening. Even the air inside feels sticky. My De La Renta's click against the marble flooring as I pass the receptionist with a wave and a silicone smile. Parker, Niko, Sasha (who wanted to be here and whose wife allowed him to come), and I step into the lift.
Parker presses the button once the steel doors close, and I look up to watch the neon green numbers change. I breathe in deeply and exhale as quietly as I can. I’m not nervous, if I’m honest, I haven't felt much of anything other thanveryenthusiastic hostility. Parker puts his hand on the small of my back and that hostility wanes, but only to a simmer. It’s there, beneath the surface, like iridescent scales on a viper, ready tostrike.
The lift comes to a stop, and as soon as we step off the damn thing, the floor is silent. Phones ring and not one paralegal jumps to answer, only gaping at me. No matter. I’m not here for them. I take measured steps to my father’s office, see he’s alone per the blinds in the window, and open the door. When his eyes meet mine, they widen. In fear.
Ohhh… I kind of like that.
“Hello, David,” I greet, setting my purse down on the chair but stay standing.
He rises to his feet quickly, eyes bouncing between me and the men flanking me. “Sabrina. What a nice surprise.”
