Page 65 of Twisted Vows

After an elderly man greets Giorgio and stands behind the altar, a hush falls over the garden. Leaves rustle overhead. The sun dips behind the building to the west.

Tristan sidles up to Fiero’s other side.

“I’m sorry,ZioFiero. I shouldn’t have insultedZiaMia,” he whispers.

A gentle smile ghosts over Fiero’s lips, but his firm tone brooks no argument.

“I won’t forgive you next time, mini boss man. She’s important to me.Capisci?”

I miss Tristan’s response as emotions barrel through me. The door opens.

A stunning woman starts down the steps. She beams with happiness and has eyes only for Giorgio. A few steps before reaching the bottom, she trips and flings her bouquet. I dodge,but Fiero angles me directly in the path of the flying flowers with his unbreakable grip on my waist, so I have no choice but to either catch it or get smacked in the face.

Other than a few petals floating to the ground, I save the bundle and glare at Fiero as I fix the arrangement.

When I offer it to the apparent bride, she shakes her head and gestures for me to keep them.

“I don’t need it anymore, and you caught it fair and square, so it’s yours now,” she says.

I open my mouth to argue, but Fiero grabs my arm, so I clamp my teeth together and glare at him over my shoulder as he tugs me backward. When he cups my hip and pulls me against his side, the flowers brush against my breasts. I drop my gaze to the pretty bouquet when the man behind the altar begins the ceremony and the couple of honor glow at each other with fairytale level love in their eyes.

The flowers mock me. Fiero caresses my hip with his thumb. I feel his attention shift to my face, but I can’t lift my gaze from the bouquet.

For the first time since I stood at the mouth of the alley, I peer beyond my fear and anger and admit defeat.

I trust Fiero. I want him. I need him.

Just like how these flowers came flying at my head, Fiero Capito steamrolled his way into my life. He always gets what he wants, but he’s never cruel, proving time and time again he isn’t like his brother and even protecting my sister without me asking.

He’ll stop at nothing to ensure I marry him as Emma Lanza, and I’ll never admit it, but I want that, too.

I want to give him everything.

Fiero Capito, my ex-fiancé’s younger brother and the most lethal mafia soldier in New York City, stole my heart.

I’m in love with my husband.

Fuck.

Chapter 18

Fiero Capito

I crush my cigaretteunder my heel with more force than necessary, needing an outlet for my frustration. For over two months, I’ve stalked Narciso’s every move, and I’m no closer to finding out who is funding him than I was when he attacked Giorgio and Aurora in the clinic parking lot.

Thanks to my vigilance, another two of Seppi’s goons and a handful of other foot soldiers from neighboring gangs no longer walk the earth, but it’s not enough. Using various methods, I broke them all and they all proved to be dead ends. I can’t return to my daily life at my boss’ side until we know who’s threatening the Vivaldi and other founding mafia families in NYC. I can’t be the one to put Aurora and Tristan in danger again.

But at what cost? Emma and her sister live with big red targets plastered all over their bodies since I spend so much time with them. Visiting Narciso’s hideouts while doing the dirty legwork for my don was supposed to be a solo mission, but I couldn’t abandon Emma when the mayhem descended around her.

I’ve done my best to protect my wife and her sister, but Giorgio can only spare so many men, and I can’t leave my mission half finished.

I shift my weight to my other leg and light another cigarette as I consider my options.

Emma won’t quit her job or take an extended vacation if I don’t have an end date for her. At first, I thought she was a workaholic out of habit—she must have had a rough time of it after escaping my brother—but when the weeks stretched on and she didn’t slow down, I finally pulled my head out of my ass and realized she’s battling her own demons in the only way she knows how.

Except I’m not sure she’s winning and I don’t know how to help her. Giving her space isn’t an option; I’m too addicted. Fucking her until she’s a boneless heap only makes her more exhausted. Pampering her only sends her deeper into her shell.

I fill my lungs with smoke and enjoy the rush of nicotine.

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