Last week, Samuel had pulled three consecutive all-nighters to close what he called a "jewelry partnership." The red veins in his eyes were impossible to hide, and a rival's hired man had slashed a deep gash across his wrist. When the wound bled through his bandage, he hadn't even flinched.
I'd been heartbroken and furious, scolding him for not taking care of himself. I thought he was fighting for the family's jewelry legacy. I thought he was doing it to keep me safe.
It had all been for Selene. To win her that expo booth. To lay that precious gemstone vein at her feet. Even if it ground him down to nothing, he'd done it gladly.
As if possessed, my fingers drifted to the tablet's lock screen. A string of numbers punched themselves in, almost by instinct.
The last digit landed. The screen unlocked.
The passcode was Selene Blanc's birthday.
Samuel never let me touch his personal tablet. He said it was a rule for the Godfather of Sicily, that it contained core family secrets. Now I understood. There were no secrets. He was just afraid I'd glimpse the devotion to another woman hidden inside.