Page 31 of Beautiful Vows

He shrugs out of Dante's hold, then speaks into his phone. “I’ll speak to you later, Jove.” He disconnects the call and turns back to us, staring before his gaze lands on Dante. “Why couldn’t you leave her the fuck alone?”

“You’re blaming me?” Dante hisses.

“I know you stalked her from the moment you found out about her. I had to put measures in place because she was getting closer and closer to this world. Measures—”

“Measures?" Dante pauses. "Is that why you asked my father to marry Helena, because you thought I’d leave her alone if she was my stepsister,” Dante states.

Antonio doesn’t answer.

Dante smiles. “But I ruined your plan when I married her beforehand.”

“I warned you to leave her alone,” Antonio growls.

“And I told you that wouldn’t happen, despite where you tried to hide her in the world.”

“Will you two stop fucking fighting and realize you both want what is best for Lia.” Rafe’s voice lifts as he stands in between Antonio and Dante. “Now where the hell is she?”

Antonio’s chest rises and falls before he exhales deeply, and says, "Follow me."

We walk down the long hallway, our footsteps echoing on the white Italian marble tiles that cover the floor. The opulence is overwhelming. The artwork and sculpture adorning the walls and corners is a testament to Antonio’s power, wealth, and old school Italian taste.

Chiaroscuro figures gaze down at us from the walls, their stark contrasts of light and shadow mirroring the light clean home that clashes with the darkness of the family who owns it.

Antonio leads us into a large office, a room that breathes old-world authority. Wooden bookshelves line the walls. The scent of aged paper and fine cigars hangs in the air. He walks to an imposing mahogany desk.

“She’s very upset at the moment,” Antonio says, his voice full of concern. “She learned of her mother’s sacrifice and normally, I’d say there is nobody out there who is stronger than her, but she’s vulnerable right now. I know she was on a mission, and I no longer know if she wants to finish it, but there’s a chance she’ll make a mistake if she does.”

Dante’s eyebrow arches skeptically. “Finish it? You’re still alive.” His tone suggests he doubts every word Antonio is telling us.

A shadow crosses Antonio’s face—not fear, but of grim acceptance. “I suspect I’m now the last person on her list.”

Rafe growls, his patience evaporating. “Then where the hell is she?” His voice bounces off the book spines and the cold porcelain floor.

Antonio moves behind his desk. “If you let me get to my computer, I can give you an idea of her location.” He pauses, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Earlier today, she went to Dominic's house and then she went to see her father. I suspect she’s worked out exactly who he is.”

Dante leans in, his body tense, ready to intercept any potential threat. “And who is he? I thought he was an ex-mercenary.”

Antonio shakes his head as he takes a seat, his movements measured. The desk between them feels like a chessboard, each man positioning his pieces. “She’ll tell you.”

I know this isn’t my domain, nevertheless; I step forward, drawn by a nagging question. “Why did she leave, Antonio? She was here to kill you.”

His eyes meet mine, and in them, I see unexpected anguish. “And she will one day. I was prepared for it and I gave her the opportunity, but she never took it.”

The room falls silent as we absorb this. He must have handed her his weapon and asked her to do it. We saw the security footage. He knocked the gun from her hand and pointed his weapon at her.

Antonio’s fingers dance across the keyboard, his focus intense as he turns his computer to us. A map appears on the screen, a blue dot pulsating over nothing.

His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm as he stares at the screen.

"Where is she?" Dante asks. His voice is low and menacing.

“She’s in the middle of the ocean,” Antonio chokes out. There’s turmoil in his gaze. His daughter is out of reach, her path so drastically different from the one he’d painstakingly planned.

“What?” Rafe and I exclaim in unison.

Dante doesn’t speak. Instead, he moves swiftly, circling the desk until he’s directly behind Antonio. He turns the screen back to him and, with a low voice edged with steel, he says, “She’s my wife, Antonio. Now tell me where the fuck she is so I can protect her and my children.”

Something in Dante’s tone makes Antonio twist on his chair. His eyes, usually so calculating, hold a glimmer of surprise. “Children?” he whispers. “Twins?”

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