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Gia flushed. “Jo doesn’t want anything to do with them.”
“I know,” I agreed.
“Well, she told me that the reason half of her godfather’s family have either gone underground or changed their name is because Ronan makes men like Gabriel and Rocco look like angels. Nothing we didn’t already know,” he added. “But last night when I eventually got to hers, she told me that her godfather had been in the restaurant with a message for you. That Declan’s getting ready to take out his brother.”
“And he wants my support?” That was unheard of. The Irish would never work with us.
“Read this.” He tapped his phone and mine dinged. “Rocco had enough on Ronan to take down an elephant. You give that to Declan, and you would make a powerful ally against the Bratva.”
I stepped up to Gia and drew him in for a hug, trying not to wince at the pain it caused my hands. “Not just a pretty face, are you?”
He stepped back and gazed at me, taking in the burns that were visible on my neck and my cheek. “I wish I could say the same.”
It was true. I’d glanced at myself in the bathroom mirror, and I knew I looked like shit, even if I had spent most of yesterday sleeping. “I’ll set something up with Declan, and we can include you putting a ring on Jo’s finger in the negotiations.”
Gia didn’t reply. Not, I knew, because he didn’t want to marry Jo even if it would be difficult for both families, but that it brought us around to the subject of my marriage.
Or lack of one.
“I had a call from Judge Nolan as well yesterday when he couldn’t get hold of you.”
My gaze shot up to his. “About?”
“He wanted to know if he should file the divorce papers.”
My heart pounded, and I was glad I was sitting down. “I thought— And what did you say?”
“I told him you were in the hospital after a house fire where you’d rescued your husband from certain death, and he said he would wait until you contacted him.”
“I-You what?” Then I clamped my lips closed because Gia had always been able to see right through me, even when I’d done my best to stand in front of him against the world.
He shrugged. “It’s the truth.”
“Then our versions of the truth seem to differ,” I said after a moment when I tried to hang on by my fingernails to the dream of a reality I wouldn’t ever have. Gia sighed and left.
I glanced down at my phone. I might not know what to do with my husband but I knew what had to be done to keep my family safe. Gia was too soft-hearted, and no one would ever harm a hair on Alessandro’s head ever again. A few minutes later I clicked off my phone. A certain fatal car accident was scheduled for a couple of days. After all Portugal had a lot of mountainous roads.
Blood in. Blood out.
Over the next five days, I buried myself in work and concentrated on dealing with my capos. I arranged to meet Declan via Patrick Connolly the week after because I had to look in control when I did. At the moment, I looked like a train wreck. I sent official condolences to Marcello on the death of his uncle, but he had his own problems. He was Gabriel’s heir, but apparently he had the same bullshit marriage stipulation as well, and his uncle’s underboss was trying to make life as hard as he could for him.
Seven days to the day after everything had gone down, I got up after yet another sleepless night. I was thankful to see Gia had brought coffee. He was quiet. “Have you spoken to Nonna?”
“Problems?” I asked, avoiding having to answer.
“Yes,” Gia said mildly, “Both Nonna and Alvize called me this morning about Alessandro because apparently you won’t take their calls.”
I sucked in a ragged breath as a chill raced down my spine. “What’s wrong?”
“Not eating. Getting really sick. Nonna, I can understand, because she frets about everyone but Alvize? He didn’t so much as show a hint of worry when you threatened to chop off his balls. If he’s calling, I’m thinking it might be serious.”
I practically felt the blood drain from my face. “You’re driving.”
“No need. Lucio has the car out the front and is waiting for us.”
I didn’t order Lucio to get us there as fast as possible. I didn’t need to, since I was pretty sure if this car had wings it would have flown.
I stormed into the house and Alvize met my gaze, nodding to the patio, so I carried on without missing a beat. It was raining, but Alessandro was huddled up in a blanket under the porch. His eyes widened as he looked around and saw me. I stood and took in his pale and drawn face, the huge purple bruising under each red-rimmed eye, and his sunken cheeks.
