Page 11 of Possessive Vows

Fuck.

These men die today.

I should reach out to Giorgio Vivaldi, the head of Camilla’s family, and let him know I’m in town before I intervene, but I don’t have time.

Plus, if she’s as traumatized as these men’s words indicate she is and Giorgio is as honorable of a man as he seems, then he may not let me meet her. At all.

It’s my responsibility to clean up after Feliks. My father will not allow loose ends.

I don’t need a wife, but my children need a mother.

After clapping each other on the back and snuffing out their cigarettes, the men saunter to the mouth of the alley.

I follow their lead and meet Yerik on the next street over.

We have a broken woman to rescue. My broken woman.

I’ve never met her, but Camilla Vivaldi will be my wife. She’ll have no choice but to marry me after I save her and reveal my identity.

She may fight me every step of the way, but it doesn’t matter.

Camilla Vivaldi needs my protection. My children need a mother figure. I will marry the shattered mafia princess, no matter what it takes.

Chapter 3

Camilla Vivaldi

My head spins as I lower myselfinto the car, so I hold on to theoh shithandle until I plant my ass firmly in the seat. I drop my head back against the headrest and close my eyes, too exhausted to handle the anxiety linked to the front seat.

Loretta says goodbye to her husband, Ermanno, before plopping into her seat and shutting the door. Bitterness tries to creep into my chest, but I push it away.

I’ve known Ermanno from afar for most of my life. He’s always been Nico’s right-hand man, so no one felt surprised when Nico gave him the title of consigliere.

How different would my life be if I had accepted Ermanno and Nico’s protection when they offered several years ago? I pushed them away, too focused on my dream of being a model.

Loretta shifts in her seat when I sigh. I open my eyes and meet her concerned gaze.

“You’re probably exhausted and just want to go to bed, but I’ve been with you all day and know you haven’t eaten, so we’re getting a meal before I take you home,” she says.

Serenity offered to feed us, but we stayed too long and Perla was getting cranky. I drank a glass of water and some juice, which is probably the only reason I haven’t fainted from exhaustion.

I give her a halfhearted nod before closing my eyes again and melting into the seat as much as my nightmares will allow. Although the driver no doubt maneuvers through the busy evening streets as safely as possible, tension coils through me until my fingers ache from white knuckling my purse in my lap.

Several minutes later, the car stops and Loretta unbuckles. My hands cramp, but I unlatch my seatbelt and open my eyes. The sky holds the last rays of sun, and every streetlamp and front business light shines. After orienting myself, I slip out of the vehicle before either the driver or Loretta can open my door for me.

The hairs on my nape rise. I study the bustling sidewalk and stand with the door held open, ready to jump back in the car if I find anything suspicious, but Loretta stalks around the back of the vehicle and joins me on the curb. Her eyes never stop scanning the crowd. I force my shoulders to relax and shut the door.

Loretta leads me into a soup and salad bar I’ve never been to before. When she chooses a corner booth, I give her a thankful smile and look through the specialty menu before ordering a molten lava cake with extra ice cream. I don’t normally eat sweets, but after the day I’ve had—and the lingering sourness on my tongue—extra sugar seems appealing. Loretta’s satisfied smirk warms my soul.

Despite the empty calories and sugar overload headed my way, I follow Loretta to the line and grab a tray.

Unease travels down my spine. I glance over my shoulder and stiffen as I meet the eyes of a man from across the restaurant. He looks away so fast I wonder if I imagined the eye contact, but ice infects my veins as I register his expression.

Worms crawl under my skin.

Was he there that night? Did he witness my downfall? Is he one of my rapists?

I don’t have words to explain how filthy his glance makes me feel.

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