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“She never wanted you to know because she never wanted you to be disappointed in her. She knew she had her demons,” I growl, “and she wanted so badly to beat them before either of you noticed.”
Alistair whirls to press his fists to the marble tiled walls of the lobby as he drops his head back and roars a curse.
“Why the marriage?” Gabriel says quietly. “It wasn’t to hide the drug use. That went on the record the second she was checked in and tested for narcotics.”
When I say nothing, his eyes narrow and he steps toward me. “Just fucking tell me,” he hisses.
I bow my head.
“Layla was pregnant.”
There’s a beat before Alistair suddenly rushes at me. Gabriel grabs him, yanking him back in a tight embrace.
“Easy!” he snaps at his brother.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” Alistair roars at me.
I shake my head. “It wasn’t mine. I’ve already told you, Layla was like a sister to me. Touching her that way never once crossed my mind.” My jaw clenches. “It was her dealer.”
Alistair’s eyes blaze. I lock mine with his.
“He’s dead,” I growl quietly, my words heavy with meaning. “And for what it’s worth… He didn’t go well, or quickly.”
Gabriel arches a brow before slowly dipping his chin to me. Which is probably the closest I’m going to get to a “thank you”, but I’ll take it. I nod back.
Another second or two ticks by before Alistair finally sighs slowly, eying me. “We’re not remotely done with this conversation, but should we go up and see what the fuck Tempest wants?”
I smile to myself as I turn and press the elevator button. “Definitely. I’m supposed to be at the club right now. But Lorenzo couldn’t swing by to check in because he’s on his way to get Bianca.”
Gabriel frowns as the elevator door opens. “From my place?”
My head snaps around violently as my eyes narrow on him. “Excuse me?”
His brow cocks with some confusion. “Bianca’s at my house. I was just there.”
“And why thefuckis my sister at your house?”
“Easy,Dante. She’s hanging out with Maeve. They’re friends now.”
“What?” I snap. “Why the fuck haven’t I heard this?”
Alistair snorts. “Probably because Bianca knew you’d throw a shit fit precisely like this if you did.”
I grunt, saying nothing as the elevator doors close and we starts to ascend. We’re just getting off at my floor when my phone rings.
“Lorenzo,” I sigh as I answer. “I don’t know if it’s miscommunication or Bianca fucking with you, but she’s?—”
“They got the wrong guy, Mr. Sartorre.”
I frown, tensing. “What?”
“Sorry, yeah, I just got in touch with Bianca. She has no idea how that text about her being at your Hamptons house got sent from her phone, but that’s not why I’m calling.” He clears his throat. “I just got off the phone with my guy at the NYPD. That guy they fingered as the one who put arsenic in your wine?”
“Yeah?” I growl warily.
“They’re thinking it’s a setup.”
My blood turns cold. “What?!”
