Page 21 of Sinner's Vows

One night. I give myself one night of peace and quiet to recover, and then I’ll deal with this new situation and find a way back to my team.

When a stranger’s face peeks into the room and our gazes clash, I sag. Everything about him screamsbodyguard.

Dominic Scalera plans for me to stay put.

I’ve jumped from the pan into the fire.

11

DOMINIC

It’s almost eleven p.m. when I walk into the service road at the back of our private clinic. Gus is waiting for me, and we both get into my SUV. With a nod, I give Stan the go-ahead to drive home.

I lean back in the seat and close my eyes. What a fuckup. We have an unknown woman in our custody—for lack of a better word—thanks to Franco Fiore. By the look of her, she isn’t just any woman, either. She might have Randazzo’s mark tattooed on her skin, but my gut tells me she’s too beautiful to be a run-of-the-mill prostitute. Not with those blue eyes, blond hair, and creamy skin that screams Scandinavian heritage like nothing else. I’m guessing she’s in her mid to late twenties, and the women who have worked the circuit for some time have a certain look about them, a hollowness in their eyes that nothing takes away.

It’s a look Ariana Morelli doesn’t have.

The way Franco treated her has something to do with this gut feel, too, but there’s more to it. It’s the way she clung to me earlier and how she fell asleep in my arms on the way to the clinic that speaks to me. As if she felt safe with me.

Fuck it. I’m not a better man at all. I’m probably worse.

With a sigh, I reach for my phone in my pocket and glance over the latest messages. Luca and Benedict were in charge of the warehouse’s clean up, and Matteo stayed with Stephano. When I last checked in on Steph, he was still with Dr. Wong, having his hands and other wounds looked after.

Everybody has gone home already. I stayed at the clinic to be with Ariana when she woke up to reassure her. It’s late, but I need to talk to Matteo.

Me:Are you still up?

I bet after a day like today, he isn’t going to look at his phone again once he’s with Tasha.

Matteo:Yep. We got home over two hours ago.

Enough time to fuck his wife, then. Why isn’t he sleeping?

Me:Gigi’s ok? And Tasha?

Matteo:All good. Steph is with Gigi now. She’s going to be fine.

He keeps on typing, probably asking the question I’m already answering.

Me:She came out of anesthesia just fine. Ariana Morelli. Does the name ring a bell?

There’s a pause, and it takes him a minute to respond.

Matteo:No. What’s the damage?

It’s our fault she got shot in the first place. I don’t want to do a ballistics report to figure our whose rogue bullet hit her. Whether it was Benedict’s bullet or mine, it’s irrelevant because it wasn’t intentional.

Me:Ricocheted bullet. No serious damage. She’ll be up and about in no time.

Provided she rests. And eats. All the signs are there: this woman has been tortured, and I bet she’s going to suffer from PTSD. Whatever Franco subjected her to, she’ll need time to heal. That’s one side of the coin. The other side iswhy.

I have so many questions. If she is our little sister, how did Franco know about her whereas we’ve been oblivious for decades? How did he know about us to such an extent that he brought her to Boston…and why did he burn her with cigarette ends and cut into her skin?

My thoughts zap to Gigi and how she was when she came to Boston. I bet she carries the same scars, but neither she nor Steph has ever mentioned it. Not until today in the warehouse, when Steph accused Franco of cutting into Gigi’s flesh. I shudder.

Matteo:That’s good news at least.

Yep. At least we don’t need to get rid of another body.

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