Chapter 17 Gemma

The worry in Antonio’s eyes is palpable as he reluctantly leaves me at the auto body shop. I have no idea what’s waiting for him at the clinic, but a part of me feels like I should at least tell Bash. I call him first.

“Are you okay, Gemma?” Bash asks.

“I’m fine. I’m picking up my car from the body shop.”

“Where’s Antonio?”

“That’s why I’m calling. He just got a call from the clinic. I think his friend, Ronan, or his sister, needs help or something. We saw the scarred guy—”

Bash cuts me off. “This is the guy who was staring in your bedroom, or the guy from the parking garage?”

“I don’t know for sure if it’s him, but it feels like it’s him. I know he was definitely sitting at the bar Saturday night and said that shit about Verducci. Anyway, he was waiting outside of Booked this morning. Antonio just let loose on him.”

“Well, that’s to be expected. He’s never going to let anyone hurt you if he can prevent it. He’s always been super protective of us.” Bash sighs.

“Sebastien?”

He groans. “You only say my whole name when you’re about to ask me about something I don’t like talking about.”

“If I wanted to help Antonio find his mom, is there some way you can help me with that?” I ask him.

“Gemma, don’t. That’s not your place and it’s not going to end well,” he warns. “How about we focus on the problems at hand and then we can sort through the personal tragedies of your husband-to-be?”

“How would you feel if Antonio and I ended up together?” I ask him, half-jokingly but also with curiosity.

“If you’re happy and safe, I’m okay with whoever you choose, Gemma. I just don’t want to have to kill anybody if they hurt you.”

“Too late,” I scoff, which gets a laugh out of him.

“Gem, that’s fucked up. You shouldn’t have dealt with that on your own.”

I close my eyes trying to put the nightmares out of my mind. “I shouldn’t have, and I didn’t. I had Natalie with me.”

“You know what I mean. What’s the point in having me as a brother if you never use my power to your advantage? I’m here to protect you, especially with Ma and Pop out of the country.”

I sigh. “I know, and I’m sorry this is all, um, rising to the surface?”

“Gemma.”

“I have to laugh to not cry about all of this. My life is being turned upside down because my schoolgirl crush came to my rescue and hurt someone who happens to be important to one of your,” I pause, making sure to choose my words wisely, “one of your business rivals. I need you to make sure he’s not walking into something crazy at the clinic.”

“Fuck, okay. I’ll send Casper and another Marzano employee to make sure Antonio’s not alone.”

“Wait, why aren’t you going?” I ask him. “He’s your best friend, Bash. If it were Natalie—”

He cuts me off. “I’m on a plane heading back to New York, Gemma. Don’t flip out. I just have to check on all that stuff we spoke about, and that’s better done in person, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t sulk,” he says. “Casper is just as good as me at handling situations.”

I have to stop my eyes from watering with worry. “I know, but Damian’s with Natalie, halfway to Vegas by now, and you’re heading across the country while someone’s stalking me and trying to intimidate Antonio.”

“Gemma, I swear to you that Antonio can handle himself. I wouldn’t trust your life to anyone else outside of our family. He’s capable.”

If Antonio is anything, he is certainly capable ... capable of mind-blowing orgasms and fighting to protect me. It makes me smile. “He’s very good with his hands, but Bash, Antonio’s friend Ronan is in the wind. Casper is great. He’s one of the best lawyers our family has, but Antonio needs muscle.”

“Gemma, calm down. Take your car to Antonio’s place and stay there. I’ll get a hold of Casper to have him meet Antonio at the clinic. If you get any calls about the rosary, let me know. I mean it, Gem. No more handling shit on your own. Capiche ?”

“ Capiche .” I sigh and end the call.

My next call goes to Natalie who answers on the first ring with panic in her voice. “What’s wrong? What happened? We’ll turn back right now.”

“No, we won’t,” Damian says.

“You’re on speaker, Gem,” Natalie warns me.

“I was just calling to let you know I’m picking up the car. Antonio made sure everything was fixed and we didn’t have to go through our insurance.”

“That’s awfully nice of him,” Natalie practically sings. “You are certainly a persuasive fiancé. How much persuading did you have to do?”

Damian cuts her off. “I will hang up this phone right now. What else is happening, Gemma?”

I don’t want to worry him. The last thing any of us need is for Damian to wreck the car on the side of the road or break every traffic law known to man to get back here to help.

“Everything is fine,” I lie. “I wanted Nat to know the car is fine and I’m going to park it at Antonio’s building. Are you guys in Vegas already?”

“We’re about an hour or two out. We got a bit of a late start this morning,” Damian grumbles.

“Okay, I guess, let me know you got there safe.”

“Will do,” Natalie replies. I can hear her smile on the phone and know I made the right choice in not worrying them. Damian would turn around if I asked him to, but he’d never make it back here in time to help Antonio.

I end the call and go to collect my car which is being cleaned. Once I’m in the driver’s seat, it almost feels like my life is returning to normalcy. I can breathe. As I look around, I find myself looking through every pouch and compartment in the car to make sure the mechanics didn’t leave anything behind.

While I don’t find any tools, there is a yellow manila envelope under my passenger seat. It has my name on it, just my name scrawled across it in black marker. The way my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach has me on edge as I glance around to see if anyone is watching me in the car. The crinkling of the envelope from my trembling fingers echoes in the confined space.

A part of me wonders if I should even touch the thing, but I can’t just ignore it. Holding my breath, I tear it open for photographs to fall onto the seat beside me. One after another, my eyes zero in on the images.

The first picture shows Steve walking through the foyer of my parents’ Staten Island home. It’s close to sunset by the shade of the light streaming through the glass windowpane in the front door. White marble tiles with grey veins trail across the entire first floor with very few pieces of furniture in the frame. It’s just Steve waltzing through the front door with a slight angle upward at the camera.

“Did he know there were cameras inside the house?” I ask to no one as I sit inside the car near the entrance to the autobody lot.

The next picture shows me walking inside the foyer. The time stamp on the picture is about an hour after the first picture. Why was Steve waiting there? Why was he waiting for me if I couldn’t do anything to help him get closer to my brothers?

My heart races at a completely far off idea, but it makes sense considering who my brothers are. I try to settle my mind on what Steve had planned for me nearly a year ago. I go to the next picture which shows clear as fucking day, a gun in my hand and Steve with his hands up.

Of course, they don’t have pictures of him charging after me and dragging me across the tiled floor. The picture after that shows a trail of blood and me pulling Steve’s dead body through the front door. The last picture is the one that truly unsettles me. It’s a picture of a large grey trunk covered in seaweed on the rocks of a beach with pictures of the Brooklyn Bridge in the background.

FUCK.