Page 26 of Brutal Vows

“You will speak to my brothers and me with respect,” I continue. “No back talking. If I have to tell you to do something more than once, you will be punished. Try to escape, you will be punished. Betray me, Gia, and I will bring you back to the brink of death, exactly where you were when I found you in that cabin. Is that understood?”

The muscles of her jaw clench, and her hand tightens on her fork. She’s probably imagining stabbing me with it right now. But like the good girl she is, she nods her head.

“Yes, sir.”

I smile at her using the proper response. “Good girl.”

Standing, I stretch, then grab up the trays of food to bring down with me. “Some clothes will be delivered later this afternoon for you,” I tell her. “For now, you’ll stay up here until I come for you.”

“Yes, sir.” Her words are almost glum sounding, as if she doesn’t want to be left alone, but I ignore it. She is going to have to get used to it because once we go after Salvatore, she won’t have anyone to talk to when I am away.

Nodding my head, I make my way toward the door.

“Are you serious about meeting with Tomas Ivankov?” she blurts the question out as I open the door to the room. A tremor of fear flows like a river through her words.

Turning back at her, I nod my head. “He is a good friend and will have more insight into everything that has been going on.”

“Okay.” When she doesn’t say anything else, I move into the hallway and shut the door behind me. I am going to be having a few words with the head of the Boston Bratva. That is the second time she has reacted so viscerally at the mention of Tomas, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess that whatever caused that fear, he was involved.

But for now, I have another call to make.

One that is going to set this war in motion.

Fourteen

It isn’thard to fall asleep when you are left with nothing to do. After leaving me in the bedroom, alone, there wasn’t much for me to do except lay in bed and contemplate how I was going to get out of this. Sometime during my mental battle strategy and planning a coup against the Italian tyrant, I dozed off.

Only to be woken by a demanding knock on the door.

Several demanding knocks.

“Hello!”

That voice is way too perky to be Vitali’s and too male to be Evaline’s. Sitting up in bed, I gaze wide-eyed as carts of clothes begin bustling into the room. Had Vitali ordered an entire department store?

“There you are,” a man calls as he steps out from behind one of the carts, a beaming smile on his face. The man is enthusiastic, to say the least, standing over six feet, with frosted tips and a feminine-tipped southern accent.

He claps his hands together in delight as he takes me in, rumpled hair and all. “Oh, he was right. You are gorgeous. I’m so glad that a man knows enough about a woman togive me all the right details. I have definitely picked out the right things for you to try on.”

I sit in a stunned daze as two women begin organizing the carts of clothes and laying items out on the end of the bed.

“Umm…who are you?”

The man turns his back on the chaos before me, his hand over his heart, mouth open in a dramatic gasp as if I’ve delivered some kind of scandalous news.

“Who am I?” he feigns hurt, but there is a sparkle of mirth in his eyes that has the edges of my lips curling up. “I am Peter Marks, my dear. Fashion designer extraordinaire.” He does a small flourish with his hands.

The name isn’t familiar to me, but then, I’ve never been into fashion before. Even living in Italy, surrounded by the world’s most renowned designers and their exquisite creations, fashion holds little interest for me. It’s not that I fail to appreciate the artistry of fine clothes; rather, I’ve simply never had the opportunity to choose my own attire before.

“It’s nice to meet you.” The sentiment is sincere. I might not be an expert in fashion, but it’s impossible to miss the sheer brilliance in the garments hanging on the rack. Each piece seems to radiate creativity and skill, showcasing his undeniable talent. At this point, I’m eager for anything that breaks away from yesterday’s worn-out attire or the hand-me-downs from someone else’s closet.

“Now—” He comes to help me off the bed, offering me his hand. Peter leads me around to view the clothes they set out on the end of the bed. “He wasn’t entirely sure about your taste, so I’ve brought a variety of different options. Mr. Nakamura’s wife prefers comfy and casual with a few upscale outfits thrown in for when necessary.”

“Oh.” I stand frozen, my eyes sweeping over the vast array of clothing styles that stretch out before me, each one more distinct and varied than the last. The vibrant colors and intricate patterns blur together, creating a dizzying tapestry that leaves me feeling unexpectedly overwhelmed and unsure of where to begin. “I’m not sure what I like, honestly. I’ve never had much say in my wardrobe.”

Peter’s gaze softens as he stares down at me, watching as I run my fingers along the soft fabrics of his designs. They’re gorgeous, but I’m not sure any of this is for me. Vitali probably just meant for Peter to come in and have me try on what he already picked.

“It can be a little overwhelming at first,” he tells me softly. “But I will help you every step of the way. Mr. De Luca wants to make sure you choose what interests you. Some of it will go in a suitcase for travel and the rest will be sent to Mr. De Luca’s house in Florida for later.”

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