Page 51 of Stolen Sin

“I’ll talk to him.” I brush past Dad and hurry down the hall. He comes behind me, going a lot slower than I remembered.

Downstairs, Simon’s lingering in the entryway. The front door is closed behind him and he’s standing on the welcome mat, his gaze hard as I approach, pausing to linger on the steps, a few feet above him.

“You ran off,” he says, spreading his hands.

“Elena told me about your new wife.” I bite the words out and try not to cry. I’m extremely aware of Dad behind me. I hurry down and shove past Simon and out onto the front porch. He follows, and I close the door so Dad doesn’t have to witness this.

“It’s not like that,” Simon says but I’m already rounding on him.

“You don’t need me anymore, okay?” I can’t even look at him right now. The disgusting part of this is, I still want him. I’m still attracted to him. All those good feelings, all that bliss and happiness I’ve felt in his arms these past few days, it’s all still there. I can’t let it go, even if I want to.

“Emily—”

“Just stop. The whole point of our marriage is so you can become Don. Obviously, it didn’t work out the way you wanted, so let’s just cut our losses while we can. You don’t need to do this.”

His expression hardens. “I didn’t come here to divorce you.”

“Then that’s worse,” I say, desperation flowing through me. “Why do you want to drag this out? We both know you only have one option here, and maybe you don’t want to do it, but you’re going to. You didn’t want to marry me, remember? But you did it anyway because you thought you had leverage and maybe I could help. We don’t have to make this harder than it already is. Just let it go.”

His jaw ticks. I grab the door and fling it open, heart racing. I don’t know why I said all that, even if it’s true, because that’s not what I want.

If I could have my way, I’d go back home with him. I’d finish cooking. I’d watch him eat and I’d talk to him about what we’re going to do all day. I’d laugh, and moan, and laugh some more, and feel satisfied in a way I’ve never even approached before him.

But we both know that isn’t reasonable anymore.

Simon gave his life over to the Famiglia long before I came around.

“Can you just listen to me?” he says, sounding frustrated, but I’m already shaking my head and going back inside.

“There’s nothing else to say. I’m making this easy on you.”

“Emily, I don’t want any of that.”

But I’m not listening, and suddenly Dad shuffles in front of Simon, putting himself between the two of us. I look back as my father gets in my husband’s face, sticking a weathered finger out, looking so frail and small.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but you should give her space,” Dad says. “Go on now, turn around and head home. She’ll talk when she’s ready. Or are you going to shove past an old man?”

Simon looks conflicted, like he’s actually considering doing just that, but he finally lets out a frustrated grunt and steps backwards. “I’ll be back,” he says, looking at me. “I’m not marrying anyone else.”

Then he turns and walks away. Dad remains on the threshold as I sit on the stairs and lean my face into my hands.

The door shuts. Dad sits down next to me and rubs my back. He doesn’t ask me what that was all about, even though it was probably really bizarre from his perspective. All he does is stay with me as I sink deeper into my misery.

Chapter 31

Simon

The prison guard gives me a hard stare as she pats me down. I swear she lingers a little too long in the crotch region before jerking her head for me to follow. “Security’s been rough lately,” she says by way of explanation. I ignore her comment and follow her to the visiting area.

The room’s like a large cafeteria. There are tables and chairs all over the place with big vending machines filled with all different stuff. Men in brown jumpsuits sit around with people in civilian clothes, and I’m always struck by the diversity in a place like this. Old women, young men, girls and boys, even a few kids. They laugh and talk, and even if the vibe’s always a little strained, it’s still nice to see life happen no matter how high the bars are.

I find my youngest brother, Angelo, sitting in a far corner away from everyone else. He’s got a table all to himself and the guards give him a wide berth. I notice the other inmates give him respectful nods as they walk by, most of which he returns, and he gets up to give me a warm hug.

“You’re here alone,” he comments as we get settled. “That’s new. Dad and Davide usually come along.”

“I figured I should spend some time with my brother all on my own.” I lean forward on the back, my elbows on the table top. “How are things?”

“Ah, you know, the usual.” He waves a hand, grinning. My brother’s always an optimist on the outside, but I can tell prison’s weighing on him. There are bags under his eyes, and his beard is much scruffier than it would’ve been on the outside. He’s even more muscular than before he came in which he attributes to boredom, but I know it’s also because he needs to defend himself. The Bianco family name carries a lot of weight, but there are constantly new threats to deal with from the other gangs.

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