Page 11 of Twisted Vows

Now, I’m left with the cold reality of what comes next. Alliances will be tested; enemies will take note. But more than that, there’s a nagging question I can’t shake.

Was it worth it?

I step onto the balcony, the cool night air a welcome relief after the confrontation. The estate’s grounds stretch out before me, bathed in moonlight, silent and still.

“Maxsim,” a voice cuts through the silence. Franco Bianchi strides towards me, his eyes hard and questioning. His tailored suit does nothing to soften the intensity of his gaze.

“Franco,” I greet him, keeping my tone neutral.

“What the hell happened?” he demands, no pretense of civility. His voice is controlled, but there’s an edge that can’t be ignored.

“Ari had an unfortunate encounter with Gio,” I reply, my words measured. “He overstepped. I intervened.”

“Overstepped how?” Franco’s eyes narrow, demanding specifics.

“Touching her without consent,” I reply, each word like ice. “I made sure he understands that such behavior has consequences.”

“Consequences?” He raises an eyebrow. “You broke his hand.”

“Would you have preferred I did nothing?” I challenge, holding his gaze.

“Of course not,” he snaps, then regains his composure. “But this will have repercussions, Maxsim. You know that. Ari may be my sister, but this? This puts a target on all of us. I can’t afford that now.”

“Yes,” I nod, my mind already calculating the fallout. “But allowing disrespect would be far more dangerous.”

“True,” Franco concedes, though his jaw remains tight. “But now we have to manage the fallout. Sal Santoro has been testing the limits for months and quietly consolidating power in New York, making Gio do his dirty work. This,” he waves his hand, “could be just the excuse he needs to break ranks and spark a war we’re not ready for.”

“Then we get ready,” I state simply. “We remind everyone where the lines are drawn and make sure they stay in place.”

The noise of the party filters through the open balcony doors, distant and muted. I straighten up, adjusting the knife in my pocket, the weight of it familiar and comforting.

“André wants to speak with you and Alexey.” He tips his head toward the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Of course.” I follow Franco into the ballroom and nod to Anton and Nikolai as I pass. If someone in the Cosa Nostra wants a fight, they better be prepared because I will bring a war.

CHAPTER FIVE

The devil herself.

Ari

I walk down the hall slowly and hear raised voices. My brother is laying into someone, and I wonder who deserves his ire.

If I were to put a bet down, my money would be on Emilio since he was MIA at the party. A mortal sin for a bodyguard. Especially in my family.

I stand just outside the heavy oak door and hear Emilio throwing out one excuse after another. “Weak,” I mutter. “Franco will never buy it.”

“What’s that?”

I turn and see Vincenzo standing beside me. “Are you a freaking panther? I didn’t hear you walk up.”

“That was kinda the point, Ari.” He walks around me and looks inside my brother’s office. “I kinda expected to pull a body out of there, but Emilio’s still breathing.”

“Not for long unless he can come up with a better story.”

“The kid thinks his connections to the Santoros are gonna save him. What a fool.”

The heavy oak door creaks open, and Emilio storms out. When he sees us, he quickly wipes the sneer off his face. “Did you have fun in there, Emilio?”

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