Page 93 of Sinner's Vows

“Yep. Bathroom to the side with a full shower and toilet, everything you need.” He tugs me back into the corridor. “Here, you have a mini-cinema and a refreshment station…” He trails off, looking down at my hand where I’m clenching his tight. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

I shrug, trying to shed the memories of coming here. “I didn’t get the tour the last time I flew in a private jet. I can’t even remember getting on the plane. I was so drugged.”

He gathers some strands of my hair and hooks them behind my ear. “Look forward, Ariana. Not back.”

With a small nod, I let him lead me to our seats for take-off. The hostess comes along and offers me earphones for the in-flight entertainment, and I take them from her as I have nothing else to do. I really don’t need to be in my own head right now, tail-spinning every scenario to its worst possible outcome.

Dominic is busy on his phone until the last second, by the sound of it making security arrangements. Once we’re in the air, he pulls his laptop from its bag, indirectly dismissing me.

Minutes later, he gets up to go sit at a desk farther down the cabin and gets so engrossed in whatever he’s doing, I can stare at him openly while feigning to watch a movie.

This man. His hands. That little pinkie which is the smallest part of him that reflects and summarizes his whole existence. Inside, I’m weeping for him, but something else has been blooming for Dominic Scalera over the past few days. A stubborn admiration for a man who had every reason to turn out a total psychopath, a maniac, like his father—like my father—but instead has chosen to turn his back on what had happened to him. ‘Look forward, Ariana, not back.’

He leans closer, clicking furiously at his mouse, and then freezes, eyes slowly blinking, reading again and again. Disbelief floods his face. Something is wrong. When his gaze flies up to meet mine and finds me staring, a hot blush swamps my cheeks.

For a moment, he leans back, cups his hands to his face, and breathes into them, never breaking eye contact with me. I don’t know how long we stare at each other, but when his gaze drops back to his laptop screen, I know what he’s reading. The DNA results.

“Come here, Ariana,” he says, his voice stern.

I already know what’s coming my way and had time to prepare my mind, but seeing him like this feels like fresh cracks over places I’ve already been broken before and only recently healed. I unbuckle my safety belt and walk over to him, trying to keep my cool.

“Who was your father?” he asks me without preamble, his fingers now steepled in front of his mouth as he leans onto the desk with his elbows.

“Why?” I ask, not even trying to hide the tremor in my voice.

“Who was your biological father?” he repeats, his sharp tone telling me to stop stalling.

There’s no out. We’re miles high in the sky, enclosed in a space I can’t escape, and this man will get information out of anybody. He prides himself in this skill.

I no longer have any reason to hide my origins. I have brothers inIl Consiglio.How does the saying go?Blood runs thicker than water.And in the world we hail from, the blood runs so thick in our veins, it could choke you.

“I wasn’t lying when I told you he’s dead.”

Now, he stands to his full height, towering over me with those eyes that search my face for clues. “Who the fuck was your father, Ariana?”

I bite down my last bit of hesitation. The last time I admitted this to someone, I had changed my name. Before that, I hadn’t admitted this to anyone since I was seven years old. It got beaten out of me,for my own safety.“Emilio Randazzo.”

For a long few seconds, Dominic just stares at me, somewhat frantic as his gaze volleys between my eyes. Then he drops his forehead to mine and murmurs as he clasps my quivering fingers in his. “I knew you were a Mafia princess.”

This should make me laugh, but being Randazzo’s daughter is the last thing I ever wanted to be.

“Who are my brothers?” I ask, knowing if I don’t ask now, the opportunity might never present itself again.

“Matteo.”

“Only Matteo?”

He squeezes my hand and turns to the desk to show me his laptop screen. “See for yourself.”

I lean in to study the data on the screen, taking a minute to make sense of it. It’s only percentages with our names, but there is no mistaking it. Matteo is my half-brother, and I have no relation to the rest of the Scalera boys.

“We won’t know about Alex,” he says softly then, squeezing my hand where he’s still holding on to me. “But that hardly matters now.”

But as for Dominic, he’s nothing to me.Nothing. Except, in a way, he’s become everything.

At the realization, every desire I’ve been trying to suppress, to lock away over the past few days, flies up like a flock of birds in my body, and I lick my lips as need unfurls in my core.

“Show me,” I murmur, shy to look him in the eyes, but forcing myself to be open with him.

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