Forgivable Sins (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 2)

'll have to forgive us, but the knowledge of your marriage caught us off guard. I was always under the impression that Angelino would someday settle down with an Italian woman like was expected of him," Gabriele returned, his eyes on me. There was agony in them, as if the fact that he had to speak to me as an equal was torture in and of itself. But I noticed that even as he, one might argue, apologized for his behavior, he still did it by ordering me to forgive him. Not asking, not actually apologizing. Just a demand.

"You've made that very clear," I said, intending not to give him any sort of reprieve. If he wanted me to acknowledge his pathetic attempt, he would need to try harder.

"Is there a point to this?" Lino asked, glaring at his stepmother when she moved to sit on the stool farthest from us without a word. Silent. I wasn't sure why she'd bothered to come, if she didn't intend to involve herself in the conversation. Perhaps she just wanted to see inside Lino's home, from the way her eyes glanced around and noted all the details.

Perhaps they truly had never been invited inside before.

"I wanted to offer my blessing," Gabriele said with the fake smile he gave to all the politicians who lined his pockets. To all the businessmen who paid into the Bellandi's more lucrative side businesses.

"Your blessing?" I whispered.

"You may not be Italian, but as I understand your brother has proven himself loyal to the Bellandi's and stood at Angelino's side for many years now. It's forced me to acknowledge that perhaps sometimes family doesn't necessarily mean blood. He's loyal, and I believe you will be a loyal wife to my son and do what is expected of you to bring forth the next generation." My eyes widened, his mentioning of our future children nearly making me laugh out loud. I'd never thought to see the day when Gabriele Bellandi wanted his son's blood to be tarnished by the likes of me. "Bellandi women do not work outside the home. Does that mean you've quit working?"

"No, it doesn't. Ivory works—"

He tensed his jaw at the mention of Matteo's wife. If Lino's marriage to me had been unacceptable, I couldn't imagine how it burned him that the head of the family had diluted his blood with a woman who was French and Portuguese. "Ivory is acceptable because her work occurs within the home. I understand yours does not."

"I'm not going to quit just because I got married," I protested.

"We'll consider it," Lino cut me off, making me turn a not-so-subtle glare his way. I wouldn't comment in front of his father in an attempt to create a united front, but he was couch bound if he didn't retract that statement as soon as his father left. "But I see no reason it needs to be rushed until Samara is pregnant. At any rate, when the time comes, it will be our decision to make. You will not have any input in it."

"I just want to be a part of your lives. Of the lives of my grandchildren—"

"If you think I would ever let you be alone with my children, you're a fucking idiot," I hissed in outrage. "Who do you think helped him every time you hit him? You never hugged your son. Never gave him any indication he was anything but a legacy and a cash cow to you. The first time I hugged him was the first time he'd been held since his mother died. You will never have anything to do with my kids." Lino's hand tightened on me, and he subtly shifted around to step in front of me. As if he expected his father might hurt me, and it wouldn't surprise me if he did. Gabriele's face tightened, a snarl curling his lips as he glowered at me. But when his attention shifted to Lino, something he saw there made him shift that grimace to a small smile.

"Well at least if nothing else, you'll teach my grandsons bravery and be a strong mother, since Lino clearly can't be bothered with such things. I thought I'd raised a man, not someone who hid behind his wife and let her baby him." His father turned all that ire toward him, but Lino didn't flinch. "Maybe she should be Matteo's second-in-command."

There'd been a time when his father's cruelty struck hard and deep, but it appeared that time had passed. "If you think I'm weak, you're wrong. I survived you. That took more strength than you'll ever know. Thank you for your blessing," he returned. "The door’s over there."

“I truly hope Connor is found soon. It would be beneficial for us all to put this behind us,” Gabriele said with a nod to me, though his face twisted like he'd swallowed glass. Nonetheless, we had his blessing. I had to hope that meant he wouldn't interfere with our marriage at the least. He turned for the door after one last lingering glare to Lino. His wife trailed after him in heels that made it difficult for her to keep up. He didn't slow, not even when he tugged the door open and stepped outside. She paused at the threshold, murmuring "good luck," before she continued on her way.

As soon as the door closed, I turned Lino to face me and buried my face in his chest. "Well that went well."

His chest shook silently, and I looked up to see him rubbing his hand over his face. "You're impossible to control, you know that?" he asked, but laughter rippled out to follow his words.

"You seem to do just fine," I murmured back, pouting when he stepped away and moved to clean up the dinner from the island counter.

"There's something on the dining room table for you. Go grab it for me, yeah?" I narrowed my eyes on him, but let my curiosity get the best of me and retreated to go see. When I made it there, all I saw was a manila envelope resting on the table. I fought back my pout. Lino didn't give me gifts often, but when he did, they were the most thoughtful gifts I ever received.

A guitar, guitar picks with doves on them, equipment I could use to record, books he thought I might like to read. While they weren't often extravagant, they showed he was thinking of me beyond the cursory gift of flowers that Connor had done when he wanted something. I strolled back to the kitchen, wanting to be with Lino when I opened the heavy packet.

"Go ahead," he chuckled, and I unwound the little string to pull out the papers inside.

The words at the top of the page shouldn't have been a surprise. "There's been an offer on my house already?" I asked. And a generous offer at that, from the numbers reflected further down the page.

"Several. This is the best one. It's a solid offer, Little Dove. We should take it."

I nodded and shrugged. "I trust your judgment. You know I hate legal shit. Do I need to sign?"

He rocked back on his heels as he looked at me, then leaned forward to grip the edge of the counter as his eyes smoldered on mine. "You aren't going to fight me? Insist that you're an independent woman and can look at your own offer?"

I chuckled. "Are we hurting for money?"

"Safe to say no." He grinned, and I knew hearing me refer to it as an us pleased him.

"Then it doesn't matter. I don't want that house; I never did. Let's sell it. Besides," I shrugged, tapping my finger on the counter. "I don't recall signing a prenup. That means what's yours is mine, and what's mine is yours."

"Should I have made you sign a prenup, Little Dove?" he whispered, stepping around the counter until he came up behind me. "Are you going to take all my money and try to run?"