Page 80 of Veiled Vows

For everything he’s ever put me through.

I have to or he’ll be free to do God knows what to the woman I love. I tried to warn her. I should have told her the truth.

I’m so fuckingstupid.

Kill him!

Santino’s eyes bulge and his face flits through several shades of purple before something crashes hard against the back of my skull making me briefly pass out.

I wake up on the floor with hands and knees pinning me down to the floor to the point that I can barely breathe.

“I’ll kill you!” I yell, clawing at the wooden floor, but I’m unable to get any leverage to escape. The back of my head throbs sharply and wetness clings to the back of my neck as I’m hauled upward. The butt of an assault rifle crashes into my face. Pain explodes through my nose, and then my father’s panting face comes into view.

Gathering what saliva and blood I can in my mouth, I spit it at him as hard as I can, but he seems unfazed.

Almost too calm.

“I’m not going to kill you yet,” he croaks, rubbing his throat.

“What?!” Alto barks from somewhere behind me.

“I’m going to make you watch me destroy that bitch and her family,” Santino says flatly. “And then I’m going to kill you.”

32

JASMINE

Purse, check.

Lipstick, check.

Gun, check.

Confidence … working on it.

Standing in front of the Mancini mansion, my stomach contracts, and the growing urge to run to the bathroom rises.

Am I really doing this? Am I really standing in front of the Mancini residence demanding a meeting with one of the most powerful people in the city? Possibly the entire country?

Three days ago, I made the call and demanded the meeting. I was laughed right off the phone, but that didn’t stop me. Eighteen calls—and several glasses of wine later—I got my answer. A fifteen-minute meeting that would end early if I didn’t bring something interesting to the table.

I’m lucky she didn’t have me shot.

I’ve spent the past three days trying to find something interesting outside of my own reason for demanding this meeting, and I have nothing.

This may be the shortest meeting in the history of meetings ever.

The door opens and a man dressed in a burgundy suit motions me inside with one white-gloved hand. He doesn’t speak, nor does he return my smile when I flash him a nervous one. Just as I’m about to introduce myself, he closes the door and strides away from me with a flick of his wrist, indicating that I follow.

My heels clack obnoxiously loud on the marble floors making my cheeks heat up with every step. I try to walk on my tiptoes but even that feels loud. In the end I have to deal with it. He leads me down a lavish corridor where countless fantastical paintings hang from the walls and several black marble statues of half-naked women stand guard at large oak doors. They’re beautiful.

I’m led into a room and seated next to a roaring fire, then the man leaves and silence falls.

My heart beats wildly in my chest as I clutch my purse in my lap while staring at the flames. Coming here is a terrible gamble. After everything with Roman, I fired every guard I didn’t trust out of fear they were somehow on his payroll. If his goal was to make me unable to trust anyone then it certainly worked, but without major security, I’m a sitting duck.

I need an ally.

One who will keep the Gattis scared.

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