Page 21 of Beautiful Vows

“He won’t,” I exclaim.

“How the fuck do you know? She went there to kill him. Why wouldn’t he kill her before she got the chance?” Rafe hisses back at me. “And Dad is well and truly still alive and left after then.” He points his finger at the time on the screen.

I chew on the inside of my cheek for a moment. I know if Lia is inside Antonio’s home, she’ll know soon exactly who she is.

I turn to Cade and Rafe and say, “Because he’s her father.”

I don’t know who is more shocked. Cade or Rafe.

“Why didn’t I know this information about Lia?” Rafe asks. There’s a noticeable hint of irritation in his tone. “And how do you know?”

“Mom told me,” I reply.

“She told you... but not me.” Rafe narrows his eyes, like he’s not sure it’s the truth.

“It never affected you,” I retort.

“But it did you?” Rafe hisses.

“Yes—”

“Yes? Just yes? Why?”

“Because I was the one who was asked to look out for her since she was sixteen years old. Because I was the one who saved her from being raped and killed by Nicolai Bianchi.” I pause and take a sigh. “And because I killed Nicolai for her. And then her father took her from me after the killing and whisked her away. He's the reason we never knew where she was for years.” I sigh. “Because Antonio refused to tell me where she was.”

“You admit you killed Nico?” Cade asks as he turns to Rafe for confirmation.

“And I will kill her father, my father, anyone who hurts her,” I say. "First, I'm going to see Antonio."

Chapter 7

Lia

It’s early in the morning when I wake up in an enormous bedroom, floating on a beautiful king-size mattress, enveloped in a world of whites and lilacs. It’s like something out of a fairy tale, a stark contrast to the apartment I’ve become accustomed to.

The dreamy vibe disappears as all my memories rush back, crashing over me like a massive wave.

I have to get out of here.

I know I can’t stay here. This is the place where my life unraveled.

The pain in my leg has calmed down, which means it’s time for me to make my escape.

Running my hand over the top of my thigh, I feel the texture of a crepe bandage. That’s when I’m hit with the smell of antiseptic, and I vaguely remember a man taking care of the wound before he pressed an injection into my leg.

Regardless of the care Antonio gave me, I need to get away from here before the sun rises and before the heat radiating from my wound builds again.

I have to get away and find the time to process everything. Find more answers.

Grimacing, I force myself to sit up on the cloud soft mattress, swing my legs off the bed, and gingerly make my way to where my clothes are neatly folded on a chair.

I pull my pants up my legs and over the medical bandage, noticing the red injection mark on my leg.

Once dressed, I turn in the room, and the garden immediately takes my attention.

Padding over the plush, white carpet, towards the grand French windows on my left, eager to figure out if there’s another way out of here. I open the doors and step onto a balcony and smile.

I can’t see Antonio today, and this is my way out of here.

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