All the progress we’d made had vanished. Gemma was trying to push me away again.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Why are you making this harder than it needs to be?” she whined, frustration leaking into her tone.
“In my mind, it’s simple. You’re mine, Gemma. Your problems are my problems. So, I think it’s best if we sit down, and you start from the beginning so I can fully understand what I’m up against.”
“Sasha.” My name was said on a whispered plea.
I curled my fingers, beckoning her to me. “Come on. At least let me hold you.”
Inhaling deeply through her nose, she closed the gap between us, and I was able to draw her close. She sagged in my embrace, the tension leaving her body as I absorbed it into mine.
“Are you sure?” Her weary voice floated up from where her face was pressed to my shoulder. “Once I spill these secrets, there’s no going back.”
I stroked a hand over her dark hair. “We’ve been past the point of no return since the minute you opened your mouth in that DMV.”
That got a weak chuckle out of her. “And you wonder why I thought you were psychotic.”
“You might think it’s crazy, but that was when my world finally came into focus.”
Gemma hugged me tighter, like if she let go, we might drift apart. “I told you good things don’t happen to me.”
“Yet,” I countered. “To that point, good things hadn’t happened to youyet. We’ve got a lifetime of them ahead of us. You just need to take my hand and let me lead you there.”
Her swallow was audible. “Will you think less of me if I need a little liquid courage to get through this?”
“Of course not. It might actually soothe my frayed nerves if you can settle yours.” My arms fell away as she stepped back, turning toward the door, but my words to her back halted her movements. “I’ll get it. You sit down and take some deep breaths.”
Spinning around, she nodded. “Okay. I keep a bottle of whiskey in the pantry.”
Pressing my lips to her forehead, I stepped past her, jogging down the stairs. With shaky hands, I gripped the glass bottle, pouring a healthy serving into a glass. For the first time in my life, I was tempted to down it myself, but I shook the thought off quickly. I needed a clear head to absorb every detail Gemma was about to share about her past life.
When I returned to the bedroom, I found her sitting up in bed against the headboard with a pillow clutched to her chest. I extended the glass to her, and she accepted it with a grateful nod, bringing the amber liquid to her lips and taking a large swallow.
Crawling across the mattress to settle in beside her, I took her free hand in mine, stroking over the knuckles with my thumb.
Clearing her throat, Gemma began, “When I was very young, I learned that women were not equal to men. Especially not in theworld I was born into.” She took a deep breath before confessing, “I don’t remember my mother.”
“Did she—”
“No,” Gemma answered the question before I could finish it. “Well, I guess I don’t really know if she’s dead or alive.”
I eyed her. “What do you mean?”
She took another swig of whiskey. “I’m the oldest. My father spent most of my life lamenting the fact that I’d been born a girl, so I can only imagine the wrath my mother incurred for failing to produce a son on the first try. She got it right on the second attempt, though. My brother, Enzo, is a little over two years younger than me. Immediately after he was born, my mother was sent away, having served her purpose.”
“Sent where?”
“Hell, if I know,” Gemma scoffed. “But I wouldn’t put it past my father to tie up loose ends. It isn’t unheard of for women to try to run off with heirs.”
“Heirs.” I rolled that word around in my brain. “Does that mean your father is the one in charge?”
She huffed out a wry laugh. “God, that’s a terrifying thought.”
“So, he’s not?” I pressed.
“No.” She shook her head. “Even though they are identical twins, my uncle Dominic was born first. Thank God for small favors.”
