Page 14 of Vow of Silence

“And throughout your tenure in that role,” Papa states, “there have been too many times where we almost lost everything. Am I wrong?”

“So, you think he can do a better job?” My uncle lifts a hand toward me with contempt. “You undermine my authority.”

“I strengthen it,” Papa hollers. “It’s a two-prong attack. It has nothing to do with what you currently undertake.” He sighs, turning his back to my uncle. “I’ve made my decision.”

“It’s bullshit.” Ignazio throws out a stiff arm, sliding the glassware off the credenza behind him.

The items crash to the floor—the liquid from the carafe barely on the carpet long enough to soak in before Naz tears out the office doors. Pietro sighs, exchanging a look with my father before he follows to do damage control. The heads have spoken, and the decision has been made. No matter how much he dislikes the idea, my uncle can do nothing about it.

Makes me want to go through with it even more.

I turn to leave, halted by my father’s voice. “Stay, Benito. Shut the door.”

I close us in once again and then slowly turn to address my father.

He meets my gaze, searching my eye for any sign of unease. “You know I do this for you, as well.”

I nod. I understand where Papa’s heart lies, and I appreciate the offer.

“You will never head the family, and that pains me, son. You would be one of the best—I know it.” My father sighs, scrubbing a hand over the back of his head. “Putting you with the girl you lost seemed like a bittersweet consolation prize, but I’d rather see you married to a woman who will make you happy than one you despise.”

My lips twitch, a smile there but held back by my apprehension at a union with Nastasya. I hurt her when we were last together. I left her heartbroken and betrayed. And I couldn’t do a damn thing to explain why.

I still can’t.

“It will work out in time,” Papa assures, rounding his desk to stop before me. “I love you, son. I want the best for you.” He cups my cheek briefly before giving it a gentle pat. “A strong woman such as Nastasya can do that for you.”

Unable to do anything else, I pull my father into a hug and slap him on the back. He smiles when I back away, nodding before I leave the room.

I’ve been gifted the only girl I ever wanted.

In the worst way possible.

SEVEN

Nastasya

There aren’t a lot of times that I find myself wishing for the comfort of my mother’s warm embrace. But when they arise, the intensity leaves me breathless, gasping for clarity while I remind myself how strong I can be.

How strong I am.

Warm water cascades over my back, the droplets swirling down the tapered tile floor toward the drain while I hug my legs to my chest and pray. I figured a hot shower would ease the muscles and undo the knots caused by the jerking and rolling of the car. All the water did was provide the perfect white noise for my thoughts to descend into despair.

Caroline died last night.

I don’t know where she is. Dmitry threw his coat over my shoulders and bundled me in the back of the SUV before I could ask. Was the sheriff called? Has she been taken to the city morgue? Or does my best friend lie alone and cold somewhere beneath an unmarked safe house in the city, awaiting processing by a doctor on our payroll?

Do I even want to know?

I push my closed eyes against my bent knees, urging the pressure in my skull to snap me out of this stupor. Grief is anatural response but can also be a weakness in a cutthroat world like ours. With one hand on the shower wall, I rise and finish washing off, focusing on the lathered suds against my body and scalp to force myself to stay rooted in the here and now.

Papa didn’t say a thing on the ride home about what made him so mad. He stared out the side window in contemplation, fingers slowly moving against the scruff on his chin. Whatever the don said, it gave my father pause to think. And that’s never a good sign. Arseni Kuznetsov is known for his quick temper—his decisions made in the heat of the moment. He’s not reckless—far from it—but he doesn’t usually deliberate over anything for long.

I wrap the thick towel around my body and move into my bedroom, pale light from the mid-morning sun filtering through sheer curtains. Exhausted and spun raw, I collapsed on top of my bed last night, sleeping through the dawn in the same clothes I wore to the De Santis residence. The pantsuit lies where I shed it halfway between the bed and bathroom, my phone discarded on the nightstand. Habit has me walking toward it, but fear forces me to pull back.

Does anyone else know what happened last night? Do any of our other friends even realize Caroline is missing?

What would I say if they asked? Could I lie to them?I guess there’s only one way to find out.Dressed in a clean pair of sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, I slide under the heavy comforter and reluctantly reach across to the nightstand for my phone. There’s nothing to do today, no reason to get up. I may as well indulge in my craving for quiet and solitude, even if I avoid our friends and spend wasted hours playing some mindless game. I’ve barely unlocked the device in my hand when a gentle knock at the door captures my attention.

---