Page 57 of Brutal Vows

Dario hadn’t driven us this time. Instead, he led me to a gorgeous luxury blue Rolls-Royce Boat Tail that I’ve only seen in magazines. It is the most expensive street legal new car in the world with a price tag of over $28 million dollars.

The fifteen minute car ride to the restaurant is filled with slightly uncomfortable silence. I know it is my fault that we went from teasing and happy to whatever this is now. Vitali looks almost frustrated at my sudden lack of enthusiasm, and I don’t know how to tell him that I had been excited to go out when I thought it was simply because he wanted totakeme out. How do I express to the man who married me for revenge the gut punch his words causedbecause I thought this was going to be a date where he wanted to spend time with me?

By the time we pull up to the restaurant, I have decided that despite this only being a PR stunt for him, I will do my best to be excited about coming here again. Even if I have to craft my own scenario for how I want this night to go, instead of how I am sure it will.

Pulling up in front of Valet, Vitali holds his finger up, signaling the attendant to wait. I look over at him, puzzled.

“I forgot to give you this,” he says, his hand digging into his inside jacket pocket. My eyes widen when he pulls out a Tiffany blue box and hands it to me. “It took longer than I expected for it to arrive.”

As I lift the lid, my lower jaw quivers at the sight of the stunning ring nestled on white satin, its intricate design captivating me instantly. When he doesn’t move to place the ring on my finger, I take it from its resting place and slide it on myself.

The center stone, a brilliant round-cut diamond, catches the light in a dazzling display, its icy fire mesmerizing. Surrounding it, delicate clusters of smaller diamonds form intricate floral patterns, adding an ethereal charm. The band is a stunning mix of metals—cool-toned white gold embracing the diamonds, while warm yellow gold weaves through the design in delicate, vine-like accents. The combination is both regal and romantic as if plucked from a fairy tale. I run my fingers over the setting, feeling the exquisite craftsmanship, and I can’t help but admire the way the ring seems to tell a story—one of passion, devotion, and timeless beauty.

The ring feels heavy on my finger as if it were a chunk of lead rather than a symbol of love. Its intricate design, crafted with care and attention, should make it feel as lightas air. Yet, when he handed it to me, it was with a casual flick of his wrist, as if he were passing over an ordinary trinket rather than the wedding ring meant to bind us forever.

“Thank you,” I say, trying hard to infuse my words with genuine emotion. It seems to work, as Vitali offers me a slight smile before he steps out of the vehicle and comes around to open my door for me. He holds out his hand and helps me out, pressing me tightly against his side while he hands the valet a generous tip.

I can tell by the looks people are shooting our way that they all know who he is. The men dart their eyes away while the women eye him as if he is their next meal. All of them stare at me with unabashed curiosity.

“Mr. De Luca,” the hostess behind the counter gasps, her eyes widening slightly before she rights herself and covers it with a large smile. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“I’m sorry, Katie,” Vitali apologizes gently. “I had the sudden urge to take my beautiful new bride out for the best steak in the city.”

Katie licks her lips when he says her name, but the moment he says bride, her eyes narrow on me. “Of course, Mr. De Luca,” she purrs, batting her long fake lashes at him seductively. Jesus, it looks as if her eyelids are having a seizure. “Let me take you to the best table in the house. Follow me.”

The hostess guides us through the labyrinth of tables. We weave past diners engaged in animated conversations, forks clinking against plates until we reach a secluded spot at the back. Our table is strategically positioned next to an enormous window that stretches from floor to ceiling, offering a stunning panorama of the ocean. The wavesshimmer under the moonlight, creating a mesmerizing dance on the water’s surface. It is breathtaking.

“Thank you,” Vitali says, his smile warm and appreciative as he discreetly slips a folded bill into the hostess’s hand. He moves with a gentlemanly grace, pulling out my chair. Once I’m comfortably seated, he settles into the chair beside mine.

“It’s beautiful here,” I remark, my eyes wandering over the elegant décor and the flickering candlelight that casts a gentle glow across the room. “You must come here often.”

Vitali nods, his gaze steady. “A few times a month.”

I nod in return, opening my mouth to continue the conversation, but the waitress approaches. She appears slightly flustered when she sees Vitali but eagerly places down our menus and takes our drink orders.

Around us, the restaurant buzzes with activity, the hum of voices a constant backdrop. I notice a few curious glances directed our way. Whispers are exchanged behind hands. This is exactly what my husband wants.

Choosing to ignore the attention, I reach for my phone, my fingers tapping across the screen.

“I didn’t bring you here so that you can play on your phone all night, little deer,” Vitali’s voice rumbles, tinged with frustration.

“No. You brought me here to make sure my father knows we are together.” I offer him a small shrug, my eyes still on the screen. “Mission accomplished by the looks of it,” I add, noting the subtle shift in the room’s atmosphere as if our presence has set an unspoken narrative in motion.

“Is that why you are acting as if it is a burden to be here?” he asks, his eyebrows raised and voice laced with genuine curiosity. I shoot him a sharp glare. The kind that makes him mutter under his breath and shake his head infrustration. “You know we need to rile up your father. We need him to act irrationally. Make a mistake. Knowing you are with me will cause him to do that.”

I take a deep breath, steadying myself, and turn slightly in my chair to face the man who has become my husband. I remember how I used to dream of marriage as a little girl. I imagined catching the eye of a handsome prince who would swoop in on a white horse, rescuing me from my father’s oppressive grasp. A man who would love me unconditionally, who would offer me his heart freely, someone who truly wanted to be with me and didn’t just see me as another mafia wife to satisfy his needs and then forget about until I was required again.

“I understand, Vitali,” I assure him, my tone calm and even. Yet inside, it feels as if my heart is crumbling to pieces. Not because I foolishly thought he had fallen in love with me, but because, against all odds, I have fallen in love with him. My heart, betraying reason, has decided that the man sitting beside me, with his cold eyes and calculating demeanor, is the one it wants. But to him, I am nothing more than a necessary transaction, a means to an end.

It all comes back to his revenge, and I am merely a pawn in his grand scheme, destined to be used and discarded when the time comes.

He may be the king on the chessboard, commanding the game, but I am certainly not his queen.

Vitali groans as he runs his hand down his face in frustration. He shakes his head, jaw clenching and unclenching as he takes a few measured breaths.

“I wanted to take you out tonight, Gia,” he presses. “Not just so that we could be seen together. Yes, that needed to happen, but I still just wanted to take my wife out for a nice night out.”

Say that again?

---