Page 37 of The Marriage Contract

“Looks like Vincenzo has purchased a farm outside the city. Same day as your meet with him. If I were a betting man, I’d start there.”

“Good. We’re taking the heli.”

“Don Salvatore is okay with this?” Paolo asks uneasily. “I’m sorry, Dario. I know she’s important to you, but …”

“There’s no but,” I growl. “He’s okay with it, but I’d be taking it anyway, even if he wasn’t.” Father glances up from his phone call, lips flat, but says nothing. “The only thing I need from you is to tell me you’re ready to roll.”

“I’m always ready,” Paolo replies. “Should I meet you at the private pad?”

“Yeah,” I snarl. “Let’s see how clever Vincenzo is when we descend on him from the goddamn heavens.”

“I doubt he did this himself unless he’s a complete moron.”

“Whoever did this, his men or the two-bit Don himself, they’re about to realize why we’re the most powerful Family in the city. They’ve done us a favor, taking this away from prying eyes. They’ve signed themselves up for a goddamn slaughter.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ELENA

I’m pretty sure I’m in the back of a car. My hands are bound in front of me with zip ties. I think it’s a car, not a truck, because I can see light shining through the bag they’ve put over my head. I have no idea how long we’ve been driving. Time has distorted, losing all meaning. I’ve been trying to focus on slowing my breathing down.

They haven’t hurt me yet, apart from the ambush itself, my head still splitting down the middle from what I assume was some sort of grenade. It all feels surreal—an acid reminder of how unsuited I am to this world.

I’ve stopped crying, at least. When I think back to the attack, I feel like an idiot. I shouldn’t have assumed that the men were on my side. Nobody in the mob, not even Dario, is on my side. I’m not just from a different world but from a different universe.

I think about all my aspirations and dreams of acting as Aunt Rosa sits lovingly and supportively in the crowd and all the good times Giulia and I would share. Now they’re all gone to ash. I have to stop thinking like this. It’s making me panic again.

Slowly, the vehicle comes to a stop. I squeeze my hands together like I’m praying. I’ve never been a religious person, but it feels appropriate now. My throat goes tight with the weight of nerves and terror. It’s like the experience is crippling my ability to reason. I feel weak, which is unfair, maybe, but it’s there all the same.

A door opens, and the wind brushes my side. A rough hand grabs my arm and hauls me from the vehicle, then pulls the bag off my head. I wince as the sunlight glares down on me. It takes a moment for my vision to adjust.

A man sneers down at me. He has long, over-gelled black hair combed back to show a scar over one of his eyes. I promise myself I’ll remember that hair, that scar. I’ll remember the small tattoo of a pistol on his neck. We’re out in the countryside, it seems. Behind him, I can see two parked cars with men around them, some smoking. There’s a big barn and, farther down, a small farmhouse.

“You’re not going to give me any problems,” he states. “That’s why we only needed one person to drive you. Look at you, scared little thing. You won’t give Vesper any stick, will you, beautiful? See, I can be nice.”

He smooths his hair away with a knife that glints in the sunlight, then moves closer to me, leaning down so I can smell the reek of whiskey and just plain old bad breath. I wish I could be like a heroine from a movie, spit in his face, and make some badass comment. But terror is coiled around my neck like a noose.

“No,” I whisper. “Please.”

When I look back on this—if I ever get to look back on it—I know I’ll wish I was braver. I’ll wish I could’ve told him to go to hell,but anything like that seems so far away. It takes all my effort not to scream in fear when he grabs my arm.

“I’ve got a gun, too, if you’re wondering,” he says with an unmistakable hint of glee. “If you wanted to make a run for it, you’d better be a college athlete. You’ll need to zig and zag and zag and zigjust right. Think you can do that?”

“I’m not going to run.”

“Good bitch,” he says. “Let’s wait in the farmhouse. The big boss’ll be here soon. He told Vesper not to hurt youunlessI’ve got a good reason. Do you want to give me a good reason?”

I cringe as he drags me past the barn toward the rundown farmhouse. The men keep smoking and talking, not even looking my way. The farmhouse seems like it hasn’t been occupied in a decade at least. He slams the door open with his shoulder, then drags me into a kitchen that reeks of mold. He pushes me onto the small dining chair and pulls up the chair opposite, tapping his knife against the old wood.

“We could have some real fun together,” he says musingly. “Do you want to know what sort of fun?”

I look down at the table, trying to remember the last time my life was normal. Since the fire, it’s never been normal, but it was better than this. I wouldn’t be experiencing this if it wasn’t for Dario’s messed-up life.

“Why are you breathing like that?” he says after a long pause.

“I’m trying not to have a panic attack,” I gasp.

“Aw, that’s cute. You should be grateful that’sallyou’re doing, sweetie. If it weren’t for the big boss, we’d be doing a whole lot more. Do you know why it’s just me and you in here?”

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