Page 29 of Stolen Vows

I stare at Irene for a beat, then cock an eyebrow. “Mrs. De Tore’s abrupt, unexplained departurewasher own doing. Right?”

Her dark gaze swings to mine, narrowing. “Of course it was. Why in the world would I help a woman I barely know?”

That’s the official party line. The one we settled on when she picked me up from downtown yesterday, covered in the blood of my superiors. The blood of my father.

I massacred nearly each and every one of the Elders, after all. It seemed fitting. A message, of sorts.

Frankie was busy disposing of evidence, along with Gino, who didn’t quite pledge his allegiance to me as the new official don but didn’t want to see his hard work suffer either. I spared him with the assumption that he’d pass the news of the deceased along to Ranolfo and the Commission, likely putting a bounty on my head.

They wouldn’t believe it was a rival ambush, but it would distract them from the bigger offense later—a Ricci getting access to a De Tore and then disappearing.

Treason, they’d call it when they realized Stella left. Grounds for immediate execution, based on the assumption that she’d immediately go to the authorities and turn us over to them—the way her sister had done to their father years ago.

There was no time to waste, so I asked Irene for assistance with getting her out.

She didn’t ask questions—I suppose when you work for our family as long as she has, there aren’t many you want the answers to. Where Anna is young and eager to please, Irene is an intelligent, shrewd woman. Once upon a time, she played the role of my father’s mistress, and when he tossed her aside, she stayed on the payroll just to keep a close eye on him, waiting for the day she could get her revenge.

With him now dead, this felt like the next best thing I could grant her: a giant middle finger to the De Tores, who are no doubt scouring the city as we stand here, aware that I’m brideless. I’m certain Anna’s leaked it by now, though not on purpose.

“So,” I say, hooking my thumbs in my pants pockets, “she’s gone. Do you know?—”

Irene holds up a hand and gives a sharp jut of her chin. “The bird is in the nest no longer, Mr. De Tore. I’d suggest not worrying too much about it.”

“I’ll arrange a search party?—”

“Do you honestly think she’s even in the state anymore? We don’t know when she left, where she was headed, or what contacts she has in Boston to help her escape. And I’m assuming, since you’re still standing here, that you failed to bug her phone?”

I don’t respond, and Irene tsk-tsks with glittering eyes, like she’s the disappointed one.

“Face it, Leopoldo. Stella Ricci is lost to you, and that’s that. I could have told you a simple tower wouldn’t keep her, but your greed was too loud.”

I stare at her silently for a full sixty seconds, wondering if I should reprimand her for speaking to me like this, even though I know it’s for the cameras. For the spectators we likely already have—all a part of my plan here.

Still, even though I know it’s an act, I can’t deny the kernel of agony that pops up in my abdomen. The loneliness I feel already, as if a ghost passed through my condo and slipped through my fingers.

It's like I’ve been disconnected from an integral part of myself, which is nonsense, given that nothing really transpired between us. A simple want does not a connection make, and Stella certainly didn’t seem to reciprocate any feelings.

At least not until I rejected her. Then her true self showed through, which only heightened my desire. The girl I spent years admiring from across the church turned out to be a fierce opponent.

Only, I don’t want her opposition.

Just her affection.

Still, for the sake of appearances, I act like Irene’s words are law. My hope is that they’ll assume Stella’s father had something to do with all this and go after him instead.

I’m sure I won’t remain inconspicuous for long; it’s probably only a matter of time before the Elders head over to get rid of me—or at least send some lower-level soldiers to do the work for them.

But that’s no matter, so long as Stella’s safe. Irene’s script tells me she’s made it. She’s okay. Even if I can’t know where she is just yet.

Despite everything, she’s stillmine.

And she might be gone now, but my wife will one day be found.

12

STELLA

SEVEN YEARS LATER

---