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“So you guys aren’t friends, then.”
“I make it my business to know as much as I can about any potential threats,” he said. “I just didn’t think they were going to come after us so quickly after the raid.”
“Or maybe someone tipped them off,” I suggested, recalling something Carmen had mentioned once about informants within the Mafia. “Someone from inside.”
Tristan’s brows furrowed, a tightness creeping into his jaw. “If there’s a rat in our organization…I want to rip its throat out,” he said. “It’s no one’s business whether we got married or not.”
“Tristan, this isn’t…”
“Stop,” he said. “Stop trying to make me feel better about this. Our marriage wouldn’t just have put decades of war to a stop, they would have stopped Nicolas from doing anything like this.”
His voice was low, thrumming with something I couldn’t place. Guilt? Or maybe regret. I wasn’t sure. He was right, though. Our marriage would have brought more than just love or companionship – it would have brought alliance, safety, protection from any form of power or strength Nicolás would wish to assert. I didn’t think it was fair for him to carry that burden all on his own; there were too many players in this dark and deadly game to point the finger at any one person.
“You’re not responsible for his actions, Tristan,” I said after a moment’s pause, my hand instinctively reaching out for his where it rested on the gear shift. He was tense, his knuckles white from the stress he was trying to contain.
His eyes flickered towards me but didn’t hold my gaze. Instead, they moved back to the road ahead as he let out a long breath.
“But I am responsible for you.”
I shook my head. “No you aren’t,” I said. “Look, you can help with the baby. You can help me with the pregnancy. But we’re not…I mean, we’re not a thing. Right? We never were. Our parents were the ones who wanted us to get married. You didn’t want this. We had one night, and…”
I trailed off, my gaze dropping to my lap. I could feel the heat of a blush creeping up my neck, a stark reminder of the intimate connection we had shared. It was a one-time thing, a single moment of weakness that had resulted in an unexpected consequence.
“You’re right,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen between us. His voice was softer now, less defensive. “We never were a thing. And it wasn’t what I wanted.”
His admission stung more than I cared to admit. I’d known it from the start, of course. Our parents had arranged our union for the sake of alliance, not love. We hadn’t been given a choice in the matter.
“But,” he continued, his eyes flickering briefly towards me before returning to the road ahead, “that doesn’t change the fact that I care about you, Adriana. And it certainly doesn’t change the fact that I want you and our child to be safe. I don’t have to be your husband for that.”
I turned to look at Tristan, the profile of his face softened by the sunlight that streamed from the window.
“But you’re not obligated to do anything, Tristan,” I said softly. “You didn’t choose this life for us any more than I chose it for you.”
He was silent for a moment before he chuckled, a sound devoid of any real mirth. “Obligation has nothing to do with it,” he said. “This is about responsibility. And whether I like it or not, whether you like it or not, this is our reality now.”
I swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in my throat.
“Which brings me to my next point,” he said. “We need to make sure you’re looked after. Not just not killed.”
I stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, we need to secure our future,” I watched as his knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “As much as I hate to admit it, you’re right. We were tossed into this life we didn’t choose. But that doesn’t mean we have to leave our fate in the hands of others. We have choices. We can make decisions.”
I blinked at him, confusion swirling within me. “Tristan...what are you suggesting?”
“I suggest we go to Delaware, where my father has a concierge medical service,” he replied. “We could…pose. Pose as a married couple.”
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Pose as a married couple?” I repeated, incredulous. “Tristan, are you serious?”
“Deadly,” he replied, his gaze steady on the road ahead. “I have a house there that’s been underused for years. It’s private, secure–and far from the prying eyes of our enemies.”
I chewed on my lower lip, considering his words. The idea of pretending to be a couple felt ludicrous. But at the same time, it made sense in a strange, twisted way. “But then we come back.”
“Yes,” Tristan said. “I’ll make sure the Rossis are handled. We’ll go back to Boston, and then, I don’t know. Figure the rest out.”
“What about the baby?” I asked after a moment’s pause. “Would we…pretend that it’s ours?”
He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “The baby is ours, Adriana. We don’t have to pretend anything there.”
