Page 2 of Crimson Vows

The air bites at my flushed cheeks as I march across the littered asphalt, gravel crunching beneath my boots.

“Bullshit,” I hiss under my breath, a venomous whisper that cuts through the chill of the late afternoon.

I’m at my car in strides, yanking the door open more forcefully than necessary. The interior is cool, and the leather of the driver’s seat creaks as I slide in. I press the ignition and the engine roars to life.

My hands grip the steering wheel tightly as I speed through the streets, the sound of the city doing little to drown out my racing thoughts.

I can’t believe I fell for Marco’s lies. His smooth words and promises had entrapped me in a web of deceit. He is no different from Vincent. None of them would be here if it weren’t for what I did for them that night, and now, Vincent and Marco expect me to bow down and simply hand over everything my father worked for. Not a chance. He may have made a foolish decision in the end, but that doesn’t wipe away the countless years of loyalty my father gave the family, and I deserve to have all of it for what I did for them.

As I approach Vincent’s penthouse, a surge of determination propels me forward. I refuse to let Marco and Vincent dictate my fate, to strip away my power and independence. My foot hammers the gas pedal, and the car surges forward.

“Vincent.” His name comes out as a hiss. I remember our night together at his family home in New Jersey. The way he wrapped me in his promises, his words painting a future I allowed myself to embrace. But they were just that—words. Empty air, leaving hollow spaces inside me.

A flash of Eva’s face, her smug smile as she clung to Vincent’s arm, slices through my thoughts. A bitter laugh escapes me. To think I was naïve enough to believe he actually meant anything he ever said to me. It was obviously all a mirage, a cruel game.

And now he thinks he can pass me off to his consigliere, and I will keep my mouth shut for receiving... what? A consolation prize? The two men have another think coming if they believe I will lie down and accept this as my fate. If I was willing to kill my own father despite it not being my intent, what do they think I’m capable of doing to them?

I turn into the parking garage, and the echo of gunfire rings out in my memories. An image I will never shake fills my thoughts. My father’s boat and the smell of blood. Nico’s blood then his blood. The memory claws at me, demanding attention.

“Fuck you all,” I mutter, thinking about the sacrifice I made to save them that night. After being humiliated by Vincent, I didn’t rescue them to have my future stripped away. Marco’s assurances and his vow to keep the business mine crumble like dry earth. I’m mad at myself for even considering to trust him. Why I believed he stood apart from the rest is beyond me. But the truth is clear: he’s cut from the same cloth as Vincent. Power. Control. They crave it and wield it without remorse.

A lump forms in my throat, a mix of grief and rage. No more lies. No more manipulation. I won’t let their deceit dictate my path. Not anymore.

And today? Today, I’ll show them how fierce Gia Casaletto can be.

Chapter Two

Gia

Anger fuels each step as I stride into the lobby, my heels clicking a sharp staccato against the marble floor. Nico sits in a side chair near the elevator. He glances up from his phone, and when our eyes connect, the fury that’s simmered in my veins suddenly evaporates.

“Oh my God,” I exhale, nearly sprinting across the vast space that separates us. Before I know it, I throw my arms around him. “You’re here. You’re actually here,” I whisper, my voice muffled against the broad expanse of his chest.

“Gia,” he says, his voice a soothing rumble. He wraps his arms around me, and I close my eyes, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

My head tilts back to look up at him, taking in his shaved head and the stubble lining his jaw. He’s the picture of strength, yet I remember the hospital bed, the beeping machines, and the countless nights of worry. “I thought you’d still be in the hospital.”

He smiles, a soft curving of his lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank God, I’m not. I couldn’t take much more of that shit they called food,” he says.

I step back, studying the lines of strain around Nico’s eyes. “Please tell me you’re not working. You should’ve been in recovery longer,” I say, my voice firmer than I intend.

He shakes his head. “I got out two weeks ago,” he replies, a shadow crossing his features. “Honestly, I begged to come back. I couldn’t take the days of just lying around. It’s kind of nice that things are starting to feel a little normal again.” His fingers drum against his thigh, a silent rhythm of restless energy and unease.

“I’m sorry I only came to see you a couple of times. I—”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice filled with sincerity. “Don’t ever apologize to me. I won’t ever forget that you saved my life that night. I wouldn’t be standing here right now if it weren’t for you.”

At least someone seems to appreciate my sacrifice.

I swallow hard, the weight of his words sinking into my chest. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” he urges.

“I didn’t mean to kill Anthony,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted to stop him, to give all of you a chance to escape. I’m no hero. Apparently, I’m not as good a shot as I thought.”

Nico’s gaze softens, and his hand gently cups my cheek. “Gia, what you did saved all of us. It doesn’t matter what your intentions were because, at the end of the day, none of us would be here if it wasn’t for you.”

Tears well in my eyes, threatening to spill over. A strange mix of relief and guilt floods me, but hearing Nico’s reassurance anchors me in a way I didn’t expect.

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