“I didn’t nullify anything. I talked to Daniele this morning. He was pissed, but he doesn’t want to cancel the engagement at this time because it would reflect badly on Gemma and their family.”
“What about Gemma?”
“He was careful with his words, but it’s safe to say that at the current time, she’d rather go to a nunnery than become your wife.”
Gritting my teeth, I looked away from his twisted expression. Guilt wasn’t a feeling I kept in my standard repertoire. I didn’t care about enough people to invest that level of emotion often. Only my family… and Gemma, I realized now, because I felt like an asshole for how I’d treated her. These last few weeks had been kicking my ass with the Bratva trying to gain their footing in Las Vegas again. The city was too important to give it up easily. For a while, our shaky understanding with the Pakhan of Chicago had helped but that was a thing of the past now too. Diego and I had been leading a few attacks on Bratva outposts, the last one two days ago, which almost ended with both of us dead.
I’d thought that party and the two girls would be the perfect distraction, I was wrong.
Fuck it.
I never wanted to hurt Gemma.
“Maybe you should move your ass over there and apologize to your fiancée,” Fabiano suggested.
“You think?” I muttered.
I turned around and headed toward my Bugatti, only to remember that it was still in front of the party mansion, covered in cake. Grabbing the key to Nino’s Tesla, I headed out to the Bazzolis.
Daniele opened the door with a tight expression. “Savio.”
“Daniele,” I said, waiting for him to invite me in. He didn’t. Behind him, I could see Claudia and Nonna looking at me like I was the Devil.
“Where’s Diego?” Daniele asked.
I rubbed the back of my head. “He’s still sleeping…”
Daniele shook his head. “We don’t condone alcohol abuse and promiscuity. When we accepted you to join our family, we hoped you’d respect our values, not convince our children to trample on them.”
Ouch. Diego had never needed much convincing, and Gemma still held true to her values, but I got his point. “Can I have a word with Gemma? I need to clear a few things up.”
Daniele glanced at his wife, who was halfway up the stairs, then he turned back around to me and shook his head. “Unfortunately, Gemma doesn’t want to see you.”
“She’s my fiancée.”
“That she is, not by her choice at this point.”
I grimaced.
“I think it would be for the best if you don’t see Gemma until you’ve made up your mind about a wedding date and the meaning of the sacred bond of marriage.” He gave me a nod and closed the door right in my face. Stunned, I waited for a couple of moments then I walked around the house to the tree. Gemma’s window was right next to it. I was about to climb the tree when Nonna’s face appeared in the window. The look she gave me could have frozen the Mojave.
All right. They needed time to cool off.
On my way to the car, I sent Gemma a text.
I won’t let you go, Kitty. I promised to marry you and I will. Thanks for the cake, by the way. I guess I deserved that.
It wasn’t an apology, but it was the best I could do. The Falcone gene seemed to make it impossible to utter the actual words.
When the bell rang, I knew it was Savio, and with the same certainty, I knew that I didn’t want to see him. Not today, and not in the foreseeable future. I’d marry him because that’s what my family wanted, but I was done trying to make it work. I was done, period.
My tears had dried and my eyes didn’t water when his voice carried up to the hallway where I listened to his and Dad’s conversation.
Mom came up the stairs, her eyes landing on me and softening. Nonna was close behind her. After they’d given me a lecture for going to a party, they’d stayed up all night consoling me.
Toni had already called me this morning. She’d taken her car home after getting in an argument with Diego and covering Savio’s car in the remains of my cake.
I turned around and went back to my room, sinking down on my bed. Nonna came in, glancing at me, then walking over to the window. She let out a disapproving cluck.
My phone beeped. I skimmed over Savio’s message, then shoved the phone under my pillow. That was his version of an apology? Did he really think that was all it took to make up for his actions and words?
Nonna sat down beside me and took my hand. “Men aren’t like us.”
I let out a derisive laugh. “Yeah.”