Page 30 of Forbidden Vows

To my surprise, we instead touched down at a charming little private airport in Italy, where we’re now preparing to hop onto a smaller second plane. “Don’t we have to go through customs?” I glance around as the staff gather our things for us.

“Customs?” He holds in a chuckle. “We’re Bachmans.”

As if that explainseverything.

Once we settle into the plane, he briefly explains what happened in hushed whispers that Haze received an emergency alert that a rival gang might have placed an explosive at the church.

When I asked why a rival gang would target my parents’ non-Bachman wedding, he said, “They lacked the power to strike near the Village. So, when they learned a Bachman was visiting the chapel, they saw an opportunity.”

Blaze decided taking our small, unconventional family of four to Italy with Haze was safer.

I do love how protective he is of his family. It’s endearing. And if I’m being completely honest, sexy.

He assures me we’ll return to the city for Lydia’s wedding, if not sooner, and expresses confidence that the Bachmans will have the situation entirely under control by then.

He takes my hand. “Benvenuti in Italia. Andiamo ad esplorare. Welcome to Italy. Let’s explore.”

“Here we go!” An excited smile hits my face, as the butterflies flock to my tummy.

Stepping off a private jet onto the stunning tarmac of an Italian lakeside estate feels surreal, especially for someone like me. The gentle breeze refreshes our faces after the long flight. I think I’ll enjoy this forced vacation after all. As I gently glide down the stairway, it's like a dream that the staff graciously rolled out to welcome us, with Blaze’s warm hand firmly holding mine.

Will we share a bed? Would it be rude to ask for a separate room? One far away from his charms and his you-know-what.

If I’m being completely honest, I’m leaning towards the hope that we share a room, which could be dangerous. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea. Additionally, I don’tthink it’s healthy to further feed my body’s addiction to him and his talented hands.

I look at him, hoping to read his expression to decipher what he expects from this. From me. From this sticky, taboo situationship that fate has once again forced us into, this time not only through marriage but also by impending danger.

I’ll be safe here, at least.

It’s not so bad. Lying by the lake with Seraphina, enjoying endless history that predates anything we’ve recorded in America. Of course, it will come with a hefty price tag that I insist on repaying. I spent the brief second flight thinking of ways to make quick money.

Creating an online kindergarten curriculum? Tutoring private school children in Hudson Yards? Selling homemade baked goods?

The only real idea I had for quick cash was more terrible homemade porn. Well, that’s not happening.

Blaze will have to take his payment in installments.

We load up into white Cadillac Escalades that will take us to the lakeside estate they call the Villa. Ready to take on this strange, forced vacation with my dad, ex—no—re-stepmother, and best friend.

Oh, andhim. The large-handed, gorgeous spanking mafia man at my side.

This time, I rush to sit beside Blaze, sliding into the backseat next to him. Seraphina occupies the captain's chair in front of me. The lovebirds have their own car. Relaxing inthe plush leather seat of the Escalade, I’m beginning to appreciate the trip as we follow our tour guide around the estate. While it’s technically four a.m. for us, it’s nine a.m. here as we journey down a lengthy road.

Lush evergreens and distant mountains rise into bright white snowcaps, with the main villa at the lake's edge. The water shimmers a beautiful rich aqua, creating a striking contrast against the smooth white stucco and soft gray wooden shutters of the expansive main home, which is the first to appear.

The driver informs us that this is the Villa that lends its name to the place—the original structure of the estate, currently home to Liam, the leader of the Bachman Italy branch, and his wife, Emilia.

I observe the vast estate as though I’m witnessing a beautiful moment from one of the romantic films that Seraphina and I love. The sun illuminates the carefully maintained gardens, creating a warm ambiance in a setting rich with leisure and the soft hum of affluence. On sun-drenched terraces, we enjoy our espresso, its rich scent blending with the gentle rustling of the morning breeze that flows through the open car windows.

Men wearing impeccably tailored suits, their jackets fitting like a second skin, clutch sleek laptops and leather briefcases as they step away from their morning routines. With polished shoes that click with each step and strides full of purpose, these men embrace the day's possibilities. They slide into their gleaming cars, the metallic surfaces reflecting the morning sun, their tires gripping the cobblestone driveway with a reassuring hum.

Their vehicles, like the one we are riding in, with their smooth, waxed exteriors, look as if they have been driven straight out of a luxury lifestyle magazine. Money truly makes things more beautiful. I lean over, tugging on Seraphina’s elbow. “Doesn’t this place look like the setting of one of our movies?”

“Girl, you read my mind. I was thinking that same thing!” She points to a swarm of glamorous women clad in luxury yoga gear, the fabric hugging their toned forms, hurrying to some wellness class. Others glide in carefree dresses, the gauzy material fluttering in the breeze. They meander along the manicured paths while stylish handbags swing gently at their sides. “Look at these lovelies! They’ve got us city girls beat.”

Their lips are adorned with soft lipstick shades and curve into open, friendly smiles. Laughter bubbles up, blending with easy conversation as they pass each other, exchanging greetings that ripple through the air like a melody.

“Diva at five o’clock!” Seraphina calls, redirecting her attention to a woman in a pink floral dress who wears black sunglasses, the hinges at the corners of her eyes held by three thin gold bars. Her hair is styled in a high, curled ponytail. “How on earth did she get those shades? Dior isn’t releasing the S1I’s for two more weeks!”

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