“To some extent, but it’s a different level of trust than with family.”
For me, trust was a conscious effort. I had to allow someone to earn my trust. I rarely bothered. My brothers and I had almost paid with our life for the one time we trusted someone after we returned to the States after our father had been killed. Friendship was a shaky construct, one that often broke under the weight of a better opportunity.
“Isn’t he family now?”
Her voice was soft, probing, but also drowsy and I hoped she’d fall asleep before she could dig deeper.
“He is. You are.” Yet, how could a simple vow, a wedding, turn people into family. It took more than that. Like trust, it took effort. Fabiano had become family without shared blood. He’d given everything he had to offer and killed and bled for us.
“But not really, not yet,” she whispered. “Will you ever trust me like you trust your brothers?”
I wanted to say yes. I didn’t want to lie to her. The silence hung over us like the humidity in the air before a summer storm.
“You can trust me. You can talk about everything with me.” Her fingertips brushed over my wrist.
“Kitty, don’t you think that’s enough serious talk for our wedding night? I didn’t sign up for a psychological exam.”
Gemma tensed. “You are right. You wanted to get inside me, not allow me to glimpse inside your head.”
Frustration swelled in my chest, but I shoved it down. Soon Gemma’s body softened, her breath evened out.
I slipped out of bed and left the bedroom. The party outside had quieted down, but I stayed clear of the garden, not wanting to encounter one of the guests. Instead, I headed into the kitchen to grab a sweet snack, the only sweet thing I’d be allowed to eat tonight.
I paused when I spotted Remo, leaning against the counter with Nevio on his arm. The kid looked exhausted but was obviously refusing to sleep. The way he hung in my brother’s hold, his chin resting on his shoulder, showed he wouldn’t last much longer. When he was half-asleep, he was a cute kid, but sometimes he managed to freak me out despite his only four years. “Already done?”
My mouth tightened.
Remo raised an eyebrow. “She didn’t let you in?”
Nevio looked between his dad and me.
“I bet that gives you a sick kick.”
“I couldn’t care less if you score or not, Savio.”
I leaned beside him, knowing the longer I stayed, the more Remo would see. Even without sharing my darkest thoughts with him, he always seemed to know what went on. “Do you trust Serafina completely?”
Remo’s dark eyes did their X-ray thing, but I didn’t look away. If there was one person on this planet whom I’d allow to dissect my twisted heart, it was him. “I do,” he said quietly, a dangerous truth for a man like him. Few men in the States were more hated than my brother. Trust was a risk he shouldn’t allow himself.
“How did you allow yourself to trust her?” How could you?
“It happened. She saved me when she should have killed me. She forgave me for destroying the life she’d grown up in. She betrayed her family for me.”
I laughed darkly. “None of these things is going to happen with Gemma, so…”
He narrowed his eyes. “If Gemma wasn’t trustworthy, she wouldn’t be allowed to live among us, among my children, Nino’s sons, Fabiano’s daughter. I’d never risk either of their lives only so you can get a taste of virgin pussy. So you better tell me now that you think she’s deserving of our trust, of your trust.”
Leave it to Remo to deliver a threat that made me feel better. “She is trustworthy, don’t worry. Gem has a heart of gold.” Repeating the words her mother had said to me, I knew they were true, which made me feel like an even bigger asshole because she deserved better than me.
“Then what’s the problem?”
I gave him an ironic smile. As if he didn’t know. “Me. The problem is me.”
After my talk with Remo, I returned to my wing. Two emotional conversations were the maximum of what I could take. I froze in the dark of the bedroom, hearing whimpers.
Within a second, I was beside Gemma, feeling her shake, imprisoned by a nightmare. I cupped her head. “Gem, wake up.”
She whimpered again, thrashing as if she was fighting to free herself. I knew that sensation, which was why I preferred to fall into bed