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She shoots me a look before sighing. “I can’t stop thinking about what Franco said. About how I was a lost cause. I wonder if the rest of my family thinks that way. I know if it were Emilia in my shoes, everyone would have been crying for days on end for her to return. But me? I’m the bitch sister who never wanted the responsibility of caring for my family. Maybe it would be easier to just stay here with you. I know you like me.”
“More than like.”
She flushes. “Right.”
Her words send a flare of hope through me, but I won’t convince Gemma to stay with me. No, I have to convince her to go home for her own safety.
“You know what you need to do, Gemma. I kidnapped you. I tried pretending I didn’t, but I did. I took you from your family. And while I still believe I can give you the life you want, your family won’t see it that way. The moment you’re home, Franco and Marco will come for me. And I’ve accepted that. I love a good gunfight anyway.” She smiles sadly as I continue, “We’ll never have a real relationship if you don’t have your true freedom. I can’t see you get hurt because of me. So, you need to go home. And if we get to be together again, then …” I pull her in close to me.
“I’ll give you the best damn life you could have ever dreamed of,” I finish. Her eyes widen. “But it’s time for you to see your family again. For your own safety.”
She takes in a shuddering breath before leaning in and giving me the smallest of kisses. “Thank you, Viktor.”
“What are husbands for, right?”
She curls into me, and I hold onto her all night. Both of us know tomorrow will change everything.
And it breaks my heart that I never knew could love in the first place.
CHAPTER17
Gemma
“Ready?”
“I am.”
Viktor starts the car and leaves his house behind. It’s strange looking at it in the passenger mirror as it grows smaller. I think deep down I started looking at Viktor’s home as my home.
I’m packed and heading back to my family. It’s funny—the clothes I’m bringing with me are the ones Viktor gave me. All my old clothes are back in my old bedroom, where I’ll be soon enough. It’s surreal. I’m finally going home.
Why does it feel so bittersweet?
Viktor and I don’t say anything. We said it all last night.
It takes around an hour to reach my family home, and the moment I see it, I feel tears hit my eyes. This is it. I’m finally home.
“I don’t think your family will appreciate me walking you to the front door,” Viktor says with a cheeky grin. Behind it, I sense sadness within him. He told me he loves me. If this isn’t easy for me, I know it’s not for him.
I squeeze Viktor’s hand. “I’ll see you later.”
“Sure.”
We both know that may not happen.
I get out of the car, carrying the bag of clothes Viktor gifted me, and walk across the street to my old house. I give Viktor one last parting look before he drives away. Turning back around, I head up the stoop and knock on the front door.
A man I’ve never met before answers. “Yes?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Steve. Who are you?”
“I’m Gemma. This is my home.”
His eyes widen, and he turns to say something, when the door is ripped open, and my mom is standing there.
“Gemma?” Before I can respond, she throws her arms around me, hugging me like she’s never hugged me before. And honestly, she hasn’t ever hugged me like this. She usually reserves her hugs for Emilia or Antonio, her favorite kids. I typically got a pat on the shoulder.
