Page 9 of Fierce Vows

Waiting has never beenmy forte, but watching—as I am not allowed into the room where she currently holds court—is just as fraying.The women cluster around each other, occasionally chattering, often silent as another tells her stories.

Willow holds her own, unzipping her dress and displaying the scars her uncle left where she no longer hides them.Not that she ever did, once she understood they weren’t a deal breaker for me.On the contrary, the scars that cross her perfect, slender back bring a swell of pride to my chest.

No one is stronger, fiercer, than the woman I am blessed to call my wife.

I swivel sideways, a half-smile on my open lips ready to impart some pathetic husbandry wisdom to Dom, but the spot beside me is empty.I rub at the unexpected pang of pain in my chest.

Luca resides in the kitchen, poring over centuries of books while the chef clucks about and tries to remove him from her empire.The only shadow who watches me as I watch my wife is the nephew who currently possesses the other segment of my attention.

I roll my shoulders, keeping my back to my wife’s impromptu salon, and beckon my shadow.“You might as well come out.Hiding in this place only earns you enemies.”

“Am I one of those already?”Eduardo Kinzali steps from his shadowy place where he has watched me while I pretended not to notice.

His face is still and impassive and resembles a man I vaguely recall as hispateras,a thorn in my father’s side for some years.One of the reasons Armand Gallo rarely left Cyprus and the sole competition for the love of a spoiled brat of a son who had the world and craved his father’s approval.

I finally got that, and now I have his empire, too.What I wouldn’t give in order to have one more day to fight with the old man the way we did for too many years.

Years I never appreciated, until now.

“Not yet,” I murmur.“Hiding is a surefire way to earn my distrust.”

He scoffs.“So Americano, my Don.”Eduardo bows slightly at the waist.

A little too slightly for my liking, but the boy’s arrogance reminds me of a certain someone—and for once I’m not referring to myself.

“It is a curse of this game.”I shake my head sadly.“Where the money flows, the sins of our lives will follow.”

Eduardo frowns.“You consider yourself a sin—a stain on your father’s name?”

Once, the insult would have roused a murderous rage inside me but now I have Willow, the slight is small and ineffective.

“Or a darkness, spreading,” I say quietly in return.“Can I trust you, Kinzali?”

He blinks.“So A—” he catches himself.“You are direct.Should I expect a bullet as fast?”

“Only as long as my patience for my unanswered question holds.”

“Ah.”He smiles thinly.“Fast thinking, fast talking ...you have absorbed their culture and forgotten your own.”

“Time’s up.”I draw my weapon and don’t glance anywhere but his face.“Try not to get blood on my wife or her friends.”

When I expect him to blanch, the boy—man, mid-twenties, maybe—smiles.Really smiles.“I promise I will not shame my mother by soiling my pants before I hit the marble floor.”

And the fucker stands still.

I cough back a laugh, masking my amusement poorly.I can imagine Dom’s eyeroll and banish my best man’s shade along with his expressions.“Consider the test passed.This, however, is not.I need an answer, son.”

“At best I would be aged as your little brother,” he protests, the smile still creasing his face.“I have affairs to sort in order to be able to answer your question without being able to answer the next.”

Breath flows from me as I uncock the pistol.Eduardo hasn’t touched his, the same matte black pair slung at his lower back I noted before.

“Why is that?”

“Because if I tell you the truth right now, I will indeed disgrace myself on your marble floor.”

It’s my turn to grin.I like the kid, even if he’s got the makings of a prime asshole.At least with him around I won’t be bored.And something tells me I’ll find out the real answer to my question in the next day or so.

Behind me, Willow’s meeting breaks up.

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