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41

Andre

I stand outside the iron gates of the three-story Mediterranean mansion in Queens, knowing I’m breaking all sorts of Council rules but not caring.

“I’m not leaving until I talk to Aiden,” I tell the small army of men guarding the estate.

“Then, we’ll escort you off the property,” the biggest of the meatheads wearing all black fatigues says.

“I’m Creed Ferraro’s second and his blood. What do you think he will do to you if you lay a fucking finger on me?” I growl. “Now run along and get your boss. I’ve got more important shit to do.”

I left Stella in her bed, staring at the wall, barely blinking. It’s where she’s been since I literally carried her home from the therapist’s office this afternoon. I hated leaving her side but thought this was important enough to try.

The empty-headed giant puts his phone to his ear and strolls off, turning his back to me. By the time he returns, the black, ornate double doors are opening, and Aiden Sanna strides out. “Let him through,” he says to his men, who finally push open the gate. I meet him on the stone sidewalk.

“My condolences to the family for Martha. It’s a small comfort she died of natural causes rather than out of vengeance.”

“The funeral’s tomorrow,” I remind him. “Where the fuck is Cami?”

“I still haven’t heard from Kai.”

“If she misses her mother’s funeral because of your idiot son…”

“There’s nothing more I can do, Andre.”

“She probably doesn’t even know her mother is dead!”

Reaching up to rub his forehead, he says, “I’ll grill his friends again, see if he’s reached out to any of them. That’s all I can do.”

“When you find him, you tell him to have her call home and that the longer he drags this out, the worse it will be for him.”

“At least there’s some hope the Rovina girl is still alive,” Aiden grumbles. “That much can’t be said for my wife and daughter.”

“At least you know their fate instead of assuming the worst.” I turn and walk back to my SUV at the curb.

* * *

Three funerals in less than a week is not something I would wish on my worst enemy.

Poor Stella. She already had to deal with losing a brother, her father, and now, her mother in a matter of months. I don’t know how she’s holding herself together.

The same goes for Saint.

The two endure the condolences of hundreds of people and the cold at their mother’s graveside.

When we get back to the Rovina house, Stella kicks off her black heels, then throws the covers back to climb into bed in her long black dress.

“Do you need anything, mia dolce vipera ?” I ask her, hands braced on my hips, unsure what to do with them. I want to hold her, but I’m not sure if that’s what Stella wants.

“We should probably put a headstone for Izaiah next to my parents.” Her response is not what I expected.

“Sure, baby. I’ll talk to the funeral home about getting one to match your mother and father’s. Creed can pay for it.”

“Okay.” She doesn’t lift her head from the pillow, just stares at the wall like she’s done the past few days.

I think the visit to the therapist helped. At least she got out of the house and yelled at me for a few minutes. It’s better than the silence.

“Should I schedule another appointment with Annie?” I ask.

“No.”

“No?” I repeat.

“I don’t feel like leaving the house anytime soon.”

“How about I schedule one for next week?” I pull up the text log with the therapist. I send her a message without waiting for Stella’s response. Not that she gives me one.

The silence of the house is briefly interrupted by a ringing phone. The landline?

“I’ll answer it.” I leave Stella’s room to follow the sound of the ringing. I find the cordless phone on the dock in Martha’s room. The covers are still peeled back, waiting for the return of the occupant. I know Stella had a fit and wouldn’t let the housekeeper touch anything in the room.

“Rovina residence,” I answer.

“Can I please speak to my mom or Saint?” a sweet, feminine voice asks.

It takes me a moment to respond. “Cami?”

“Who is this? I need to speak to my brother or mother,” she repeats calmly.

Oh, thank fuck. She’s alive, and she doesn’t sound awful. Which means she hopefully hasn’t been hurt, but she doesn’t know about her mother yet.

“This is Andre,” I tell her as I jog back to Stella’s room. “Let me get Stella on the phone.”

Damn, I guess Aiden Sanna came through and found his shithead son after all.

“Okay,” she replies. “But then I want to speak to Mom and tell her myself I’m…staying with a friend.”

“Where are you, Cami? We’ll come get you…” At the sound of her name, Stella pops up out of bed and hurries toward me.

“I would if I knew, but I don’t. How’s my mom?” she asks just before Stella snatches the phone from me.

“Cami?” Stella exclaims.

“Speaker,” I whisper to her, and she fumbles with the phone, putting it on speaker. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m…alive,” Cami says. “And hopefully going to stay that way. I don’t know where I am, and he won’t tell me!” After raising her voice at her captor, she says, “How’s mom?”

Stella’s eyes slam closed in pain. I want to hold her, to take away the hurt and the grief to help her, but I can’t.

“Stella? I only have three minutes left. Let me speak to her before he makes me hang up.”

“Cami…I’m sorry. We just…I’m so sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for? It wasn’t your fault I got snatched up at a freaking funeral.”

“No, Cami. I meant, today…earlier today we had Mom’s funeral.”

“Her…no,” she whispers. “No! I was just there, and she was doing better!”

“I know. She was, then she got weak again. She went to sleep the other night, and that was it. I’m so fucking sorry you weren’t here. I’ll take you to her grave as soon as you’re back.”

“I can’t believe this! I’m going to fucking kill you!” Stella flinches, but I’m pretty sure Cami is talking to Kai Sanna, not her sister. “Did you know?” she asks, and a masculine voice’s response is muffled. “Did you fucking know my mom is dead?”

“Do whatever you have to do to come home!” Stella tells her sister in a rush. “Tell him if he hurts you, he’s dead!”

“He’s already dead as soon as I get my hands on him!” Cami huffs.

“Be careful. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Cami says before the line goes silent.

Stella stares down at the device in her hand for a long moment before lifting her eyes and throwing her arms around my neck. I hold her to me, relishing the moment of peace I feel when she’s in my arms. “She’s alive,” my sad wife says, her face buried against my chest.

“She sounds good too. I’m so glad you finally got to talk to her. I just hate you had to tell her about your mom this way. Sorry all this happened to you, baby.” I place a kiss on the top of her head, one that causes her to immediately press her palms to my chest, pushing me away. I knew it was only a matter of time, but I would’ve liked to hold her and pretend everything was fine for a few more seconds.

“God, why the fuck do I keep doing that?” she exclaims, turning away from me while running her fingers through her hair.

“Why do you keep doing what? Seeking comfort from me even though you hate me?”

“Yes! You’re a lying piece of murdering shit!”

I swallow around the lump in my throat at her insults. She’s not wrong.

“I’m so sorry, Stella. About everything. I wish…I wish we could’ve been honest with each other from the start.”

“Wishes are worthless.”

“Baby, the only reason I didn’t tell you the truth was because I didn’t want to hurt you. You know that’s the truth too. It’s not like you opened up to me about all your secrets, either. Now I know why you hated my entire family. When I asked you about the man who hurt you, the one you killed, why didn’t you tell me it was Creed’s father?”

“What would it have mattered?” she huffs, her back still to me, her shoulders hunched.

“Hell, yes, it would’ve mattered. I would’ve killed Lorenzo sooner!”

Stella takes a slow, deep breath. “I’m glad he’s dead but…I’m not sure if he deserved it.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Of course he deserved it!”

“It was…that night, I was drinking and had taken all sorts of pills…” she trails off.

“So? That doesn’t have anything to do with what happened to you.”

“Yes, it does!” she yells, spinning back around to face me with moisture glistening on her cheeks. “I was mostly out of it, but I knew…I knew what was happening and didn’t try to stop him. I didn’t fight him off.”

“Remember what you told me the therapist said? It should always be your decisions, no matter what the circumstances are, and in those circumstances, you were incapacitated, unable to make your own decisions. You couldn’t have fought him off even if you’d wanted to, baby. His own brothers were probably too scared to raise a hand to stop him.” At least I tell myself that’s why my father and Tristan’s didn’t do anything to help her.

“I…I had no clue who was inside of me or where I was even at during it. At least, not until I woke up in my bed at home with Lorenzo hovering over me, washing me with a rag between my legs. There were flashes I remembered of him and other faces watching us, which meant it was probably his boss…”

“I can’t believe either of them touched you like that. Did you tell your father? Did Emilio know?”

“What was there to tell? Besides, more than likely my father wouldn’t have believed me. If he did, he probably wouldn’t even have cared his best friend fucked me in the back of a limo.” She shakes her head. “All Daddy would’ve done was blame me for dressing like a slut, acting like a slut, and getting so fucked up I was begging for it. And if he’d confronted the Ferraros or Lorenzo, they would’ve denied it and told him I made it all up.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t think anyone would believe you. I believed you, even before Lorenzo admitted to it all. He said the limo was dark, and he didn’t know what was happening until it was almost over, but he still should’ve done something to help you.”

She swipes the back of her hand over her cheek. “Well, he didn’t. He just put me in bed and washed away the evidence. He was very thorough with his soapy washcloth. I barely remember anything more than snapshots of that either. I was high and out of it.”

“That doesn’t fucking matter! You were vulnerable. They knew you were intoxicated and practically unconscious. And instead of keeping you safe they hurt you, took advantage of you.”

Stella stares at me for a long moment before crossing her arms and changing the subject completely. “I get why you didn’t tell me about my brother or father’s deaths. You felt guilty and wanted to protect me from the truth.”

“I did.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell me about my father having a daughter with Zara?”

Shoving my fingers through the front of my hair, I tell her the truth. “It wasn’t my secret to share. It was Zara’s. And she didn’t want your family to know Oriana existed. Not only because she didn’t want to have to fight for custody, but also she knew it’d only cause your family more pain to learn about your father’s affair with her. He put her through hell, and she lost three years with her daughter because of that asshole.”

Biting her lip, she eventually says softly, “Part of me thinks I should’ve told my mom before she died…”

I lift my hand to reach for her and immediately drop it. “No, baby. There was no reason for Martha to ever know about that awful shit. You did what was best and let her die loving him instead of hating him.”

Wetting her lips, her eyes lower to her bare feet. “My mom and I talked about love after…our argument. She told me that loving someone was being able to forgive them no matter what they do. It’s not love if there are exceptions...”

“I guess that about sums it up.” I nod.

Still unable to look me in the eye, Stella says, “Right before she…my mom told me I should forgive you. I was crying and upset. Even though I couldn’t tell her why I was so hurt, she still said I should forgive you, that I was upset because you hurt me, not because I hated you. That was the last conversation we ever had.”

“Your mother was a wonderful woman who gave great advice. Are you going to take it?” I ask, holding my breath while waiting for her answer.

Lifting her eyes, she studies my face like she doesn’t recognize the man standing before her. “I’m still…I don’t trust you. How could we move on from this without trust?”

“I don’t know, baby, but I’m willing to wait. However long it takes you to be able to trust me again. Weeks, months, years. I’ll wait.”

She raises her chin defiantly. “You’ll always choose your family over me.”

“I promised your mother I wouldn’t do that, and I won’t.”

“You already did.”

“Stella, I swear I never kept the truth from you to protect Creed. I only wanted to protect you, your mom, brother, and sister,” I assure her. “Are you going to tell Saint and Cami about your little sister? Are you going to choose me over your family?”

She shrugs. “I-I haven’t decided. I think they deserve to know the truth about our father. They would both hate me if I kept it from them, and they found out but…then Saint will know everything he did was based on a lie.”

“Which would only cause him more pain and guilt.”

“Right,” she agrees. “So, I guess I won’t tell him.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“Do you think…do you think Zara would let me spend time with Oriana?”

I wince at her question because I want to say yes. Unfortunately, it’s not my decision. “Zara is…a very protective mama bear. Just like I’m sure you’d be. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for her daughter, and one of her biggest fears is having her taken away from her again.”

“I guess that’s understandable after all she’s been through.”

“As long as you made it clear you’ll never hire an attorney for custody, then I think she’d be amenable to visits. It might be best if I draw up a document for you to sign that says in writing you’ll never seek custody, just to help her feel a little bit better about things.”

“Okay. I can do that.” She nods. “If not for her being my father’s mistress and brother’s sort of ex, I think me and Zara might have been friends.”

“You two can still be friends, baby.”

“Ha! I don’t know about that.”

“You two might need to have each other’s backs while me and Creed are locked up,” I remind her. “I won’t be around to provide you comfort when you need it, and that infuriates the fuck out of me.”

“You know, at one time, I might have wished for your incarceration to happen sooner rather than later, so I could finally be free.”

“I don’t blame you. If you still want a divorce…”

“I’m not pregnant,” she blurts out.

“Oh.” Then I guess that means our separation is imminent. And permanent, since there’s no reason for her to put up with me.

“I wanted to be,” she says softly. “Even when I was so angry at you and wanted to cut off your balls, I still…hoped.”

Well, fuck. That wasn’t what I expected my sweet viper to confess, not when it was giving her an easy out from our marriage.

“We can keep trying,” I tell her. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get you pregnant. To keep you. To earn your trust again. I just wish you would keep me around because you love me, not just to use me for the fucking amazing sex.”

I almost get a grin out of her. At least she lowers her folded arms, as if some of her defensiveness is dissolving. “I shouldn’t want to be able to forgive you or want you for more than fucking amazing sex.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” I agree with a smile.

“But I did. I do. After my mom died, when I called you over, nothing else mattered except having you here to hold me.”

“I would give anything to never leave your side again, baby. But I won’t selfishly ask you to wait three-and-a-half-years either.”

Again, I get a shrug from her. “You’re the only man I’ve been with in twelve years, you know. I’d hate to have to start all over with someone new.” Now a corner of her lips lifts in a smile. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Today is one of the shittiest days of her life, and I’m still able to see one of her rare smiles.

The sight of it causes a rush of relief to fill my veins. “Well, at least there’s that, the familiarity if nothing else.”

“There’s more than the familiarity,” she adds.

“Is there?”

Stella bites her bottom lip for a long moment, as if trying to hold the words inside, but they slip free as her eyes stay locked on mine. “Whether I want to or not, I love you.”

“You love me?”

We may have plenty of trials ahead of us, but at least she sounds like there will be an ‘us.’ And I’ll do whatever it takes to convince Stella to forgive me one day, to trust me, to love me in a way that’s as easy to do as breathing.

“I’ve loved you for a while now,” she explains, offering me more than I deserve. “I think it started happening around the time I saw the massive closet, and it slowly grew from there with the coats you kept buying to make me wear before leaving the building. Then, realizing I didn’t want that slutty assistant anywhere near you was the final straw. Not to mention my mom was fond of you…”

“Martha did like me. She thought we would be good together, even though she knew the truth about us the whole time.”

Stella’s brow furrows. “What do you mean she knew the truth?”

“Your mom was well aware that we hadn’t been dating before planning the wedding, and that we barely knew each other. It’s why she was helping me out by telling me what you liked.”

She shakes her head. “No. There’s no way.”

“She knew, Stella. The morning I went to see her on my own before work, she told me.”

“Then…why did she tell me I should forgive you if she knew we were in an arranged marriage, that it wasn’t real?”

“Because she could see with her own eyes it was real, that you were falling in love with me. Even if it was under duress.”

“God, you’re so cocky,” Stella huffs with a roll of her eyes.

“Your mother also knew I was hopelessly in love with you and desperate to keep you.” I hold out my hand, reaching for her waist. “Can I touch you now? Kiss you? Show you how much I love you?” I ask her. “Please?”

With a heavy sigh that raises her shoulders, my wife gives me the answer I would have waited a lifetime to hear from her lips: “How about you get down on your knees and do all three of those things?”

“In other words, I should shut up and tongue fuck you?” I ask for clarification while doing as I’m told and kneeling before my beautiful wife.

Hiking up her long black dress to her waist, Stella fists my hair. “Shut up and tongue fuck me, Dre, until I beg you to come inside me.”