"Can we talk?" he finally asked after we'd brought all the dishes to the kitchen. I hated him for making Samara have to clean, because I didn't usually let her lift a finger.
"We've got it," Hattie murmured, giving me a shove to go chat with Yavin. I tried to calm down, because the man had never shown any inclination of loving a woman. He didn't understand what it was to want to give a woman an easy life.
One day he would, I hoped.
Else I'd have to kick his ass for mistreating his wife.
"Yeah," I agreed, guiding him to my office at the end of the hall. It felt like I never spent any time there now that Samara was in my life, because I preferred working in the living room where I could reach out and touch her. I turned o
n the light when I stepped into the room, turning to lean my ass against my desk and cross my arms over my chest while I stared at him. He ran a hand through his dark, copper-tinted hair, grimacing at me.
"Is this real for you? Or are you just playing games?" His voice was full of disbelief as if he still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that I'd married his sister. Hopefully my baby in her belly would make it feel real, real fast.
I glared at him. "When have you ever known me to play games?"
He nodded but pursed his lips in frustration. "She's been in love with you as long as I can remember," he admitted, and it surprised me that he'd noticed. Yavin wasn't the most observant, and his mind had always been so wrapped up in trying to prove himself to Matteo and I that he neglected his family too much.
It had always been the one point of contention between us. Him wanting success more than anything, and me wishing I had his family. We'd been at odds, without ever really addressing it. "The feeling is mutual, Vin," I announced. "It always has been."
"Your father?" he asked, because where Samara thought she knew what kind of man Gabriele Bellandi was, Yavin actually knew. He'd seen him in action, seen him shoot a man point blank in cold blood, seen him slit a man's throat, seen him willing to gun down entire families if it meant he got the revenge he wanted. Matteo had put a stop to it when his father died, but the years before Matteo had been brutal.
Ugly.
War.
I hoped we never had to defend ourselves against enemies like that again, but I knew it was probably a pipe dream. The life of a Bellandi wasn't a peaceful one. "Said he'd kill her or sell her if I touched her."
"Shit," Yavin groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Why didn't you ever say anything? I could have helped protect her."
"He had no reason to go near her. I didn't touch her until after I moved her in here. We both know Gabriele likes to posture, but he doesn't have any power now. Matteo stripped him of what little he had left the minute he pulled a gun on Ivory." He stepped over to my bookcase, pulling a little trinket Samara had given me off the shelf. A butterfly encased in amber, it took my breath away every time I looked at it and remembered the Christmas she'd given it to me. I didn't know what it was about it that had drawn her to it, but I knew what it meant to me.
It might not have been a dove, but it was a winged creature locked in a golden, gilded cage. It had felt like the gift was a declaration, her way of telling me it would be okay to clip her wings and make her mine.
He set it back down, glancing around the office that held pieces of Samara everywhere. "I never saw it," he admitted. "How did I not see how you felt about her?"
"You didn't want to think about it." I shrugged, because I'd always known it was true. I tried to imagine how awkward I'd feel if he'd married Chiara.
I'd probably have strangled him.
"Best friend or not, you hurt her, and I'll kick your fucking ass. I don't give a shit if you're a Bellandi. Ivory will have my back, which means Matteo will too."
"If I hurt her, I'll lay down and die," I admitted. "I'm never going to hurt her like that, Vin. I'm not perfect. We'll fight, and we'll have misunderstandings. But her heart and her body are safe with me. I think you know that."
He nodded briefly. "Good."
“There’s one last thing we need to discuss before we put this shit in the past where it belongs,” I said, and I shook my head in aggravation. Yavin nodded in return with a sigh. He knew damn well what was coming. “If you ever take my wife away from her security again and let hours pass before you at least tell me she’s safe? We’re done, Vin. You will not manage Tease. You will not get near Samara. I will cut you from our lives and never look back. You’re my brother now, but you always have been. Do not put me in the position to be scared shitless and wondering if she’s dead in a ditch somewhere ever again.”
“I got it. I knew it was wrong, she was just—” he paused. “You know how she is when she’s pissed. Determined as all Hell, but she was at her breaking point. I’ve never seen her so close to shattering. I should have texted you and said she was safe with me but needed time. I’ll do that if it happens again.” Then he turned and strolled out of the room.
It wasn't a blessing.
But it wasn't a condemnation either. It would have to do for the time being.
Forty-Seven
Samara
I wanted to know where we were going, wanted to understand why Lino had expected me to put on something nice but casual and dragged me out the door. The jeans clung to my legs and my hands sweated as I rubbed them over and over. He sat silent next to me, and while there was no anxiety pouring off him, I still wanted to force him to tell me what happened.