Page 50 of Broken Vows

“From where you’re sitting now, I bet you don’t think we can extract you out of this situation. But trust me, we can.”

“But how? I can’t run forever. I’d rather hand over the money to Franco on a platter, but I don’t want to support what they are doing in Europe. I hate the roots of our fortune, and I know the type of crime rings Franco’s type runs. Underage…all-age sex trafficking—” She breaks off, her fingers working her T-shirt’s thin fabric as she purses her lips, trying to curb her tears.

“For which you’ve been brutally marked,” I complete her sentence. “We both know Franco will push you into that as soon as he has what he wants.”

If he doesn’t kill her.

She sucks her bottom lip and closes her eyes, trying to control her emotions.

“And the drugs,” she whispers. “Human trafficking that includes everything from the whole to parts. Slavery.”

“Angel. Franco Fiore is a dead man. We just have to figure out how. And for that, I need my brothers. Please trust me.”

“But why? Putting yourself in danger like this for someone you don’t know?—”

“I know you better than a lot of people I spend time with.”

She cups her hands to her face to hide a blush as she leans her elbows on the table.

“Hey,” I say as I reach for her fingers to peel her hands from her face, wanting her to look at me.

She lowers her hands and stares at me through tears.

“At least if we get married, you know I’m not after your money, because we discussed it yesterday before I knew about this situation.”

A chuckle bubbles up, and she gives me a woebegone smile. “I vowed to never marry into the Mafia.”

“I’d like to think there’s more to me than being in the Mafia,” I say with a lopsided grin. “And it won’t be forever.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t get why you’d do it. You’ve got nothing to gain out of this if you’re not in it for the money.” She searches my gaze, her eyes like shovels digging straight to my soul.

I don’t look away, tempting as it is, but let her see what she can. “I made a vow, to my mom, that I will protect women, any woman, and all women, irrespective of circumstances. This is what it takes, and I’ll do it, for her and for the sacred vow I made.”

And for revenge. When it comes to Franco’s level of brutality, which echoes the Don’s, revenge is infinite.

“You’ll break one vow to honor another?”

“Yes. The one about never marrying is one I made to myself. The one I made to my mom supersedes all others.” I reach for her hands where she’s fidgeting with her napkin now, her lunch pushed to the side. She hardly had two bites. I wouldn’t be ableto eat either if I were her. “The first step to secure your safety is to give you my name. Nobody fucks with what belongs to me.”

“Here maybe, but Franco is in Italy.”

“And you’re not going back there. Not until this has been settled.”

“So, you’re going to go there? Don’t be crazy. It isn’t your territory.”

No, it isn’t. But I’ll have something Franco wants, and by the sounds of it, he wants it desperately. If we can get him to come here, we’ll be ready for him.

“We have time to make our plans.” To set a trap. Already, an idea is taking shape, but I’ll need my brothers’ help to fine-tune it. As a team, we never fail. “Come see what the boutique dropped off for you.”

I want to distract her and de-escalate the tension in her body, so I round the table to where Carla and Tasha draped her clothes over a dining chair.

She stands, eyeing the two dresses I hold up by their hangers. “That’s this season’s Dior.”

“It is?” I turn to look at the label. “Yes.”

“Stephano,” she groans. “I can’t afford dresses with those price tags right now.”

I shrug. “I can. Plus, we might be American, but we’re Italian. I won’t have my wife walk around in anything less than couture perfection.”

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