Page 11 of Vow of Silence

“You bar us from the shipments, and you may as well declare war between all the factions.” Salt may fleck his pepper hair, but the man still delivers one hell of an intimidating glare.

“War was declared the minute you fuckers tried to kill my daughter!” My father tilts his head back—arrogant as always.

“We didn’t do it!” the Don hollers back. “What will it take to get that through your thick head?”

“Offer me undeniable proof of your word,” Papa leers. “Show me that our bonds mean as much to you as your precious family business.”

Gennaro laughs, turning his back on my father. The man with the gruff voice steps forward to pick up where the Don left off.

“You ask us to offer you reparation for a crime we accept no responsibility for.”

“I ask you to offer goodwill.” Papa bumps into my leg when he takes a step toward the man. “If you harbor no guilt, you’ll have no issue strengthening our ties.”

“You’re insane.” Gennaro spins and leans both palms atop his desk. “Somebody who was allegedlyItaliantried to kill your daughter, and now you stand here before me giving me bullshit about strengthening ties? What sort of twisted blackmail is this?”

I wish I’d never said a thing.

“Necessary.” Papa folds his arms. “I’ve spent a decade bowing to your whims, Gennaro. And for what?” He throws his hands high. “To watch your empire grow while mine stagnates? You take more than I can give and then ask for blind allegiance when one of your brothers tries to take all I have left.”

“Your viewpoint of our businesses seems a little skewed,friend.”

“It seems deathly accurate from where I stand.”

The two men stare each other down for a tense minute; not one other person in the room dares to move. Papa wins, with Gennaro breaking away first.

“Pietro. Take Miss Kuznetsov into the sitting room.” He glares at my father. “I have details to discuss with thepakhan.”

“Boss…”

“Do it, Petey.”

The gruff man sighs and then offers me his hand. I take the calloused palm against mine and rise from the seat, glad to be out of the pressure cooker. The room remains silent while we leave. I don’t take a proper breath until I hear the doors seal shut behind me again.

“What happened in there?” Ignazio corrals Pietro into the foyer for a private conversation. “What did they say?”

I move on shaky legs toward the liquor and retrieve my empty glass. My hand trembles so violently that the whiskey sloshes over the lip of the tumbler, making a mess on the mirrored surface. I knock over a wine stem while searching for atowel to clean up the puddle, catching the glass before it rolls off the cabinet.

A large, tattooed hand covers mine, guiding the wine glass back to its spot. I swallow and step aside, allowing Benito to tidy up and pour me a fresh drink. He catches my eye, offering a dimpled smirk before doubling the contents. I hate the jerk for what he did to me, but at this moment, I could kiss his beautifully handsome face for knowing what I need to settle my nerves. He makes a point of leaving the stopper out of the decanter, indicating I’m welcome to have more.

Our spell breaks when his youngest brother speaks from the far side of the room. “What did you tell them,mutt?” He uses the crude nickname his uncle gave me as though it gives him power.

As though it makes him a man.

I open my mouth to answer, ready to serve the jackass with something reminding him to mind his business, yet a thick finger across my lips stalls the words in my throat. I lock eyes with Benito, lost in deep blue depths, as he gently shakes his head.

I don’t owe a single person in this room an explanation.

Even him.

SIX

Benito

She moves away from my touch, still holding my gaze as she lifts the glass heavy with alcohol to her lips and takes a long draw.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea after what you’ve been through.” Dion joins us at the liquor cabinet and gently removes the tumbler from Nastasya’s hand. “Head injuries and alcohol don’t mix very well.”

“Who says I have a head injury?” She folds her arms, clearly annoyed he denied her the release.

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