Page 56 of Bloody Vows
What I am is terrified, and humiliated. I’m going to be marched to my room by the help, and if Tristan has the slightest idea of what Enzo and I discussed…
I have no idea what the consequences will be. Something terrible, I’m sure.
"This is ridiculous," I snap, but there's very little heat in it. I'm too frightened by the implications.
Vitto doesn’t budge. “Those are my orders, Mrs. O’Malley. Let’s make this simple.”
I want to argue, want to assert my independence, but I can see the other guards moving into position around us. I'm outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and completely at their mercy.
Just like I'm at Tristan's mercy.
The walk to my room feels like a funeral march. Vitto accompanies me upstairs, then stands aside as I enter my bedroom. The click of the lock engaging behind me sounds like a death knell. I'm trapped. Truly trapped now, not just by the circumstances of my marriage but by the walls of this room, waiting for my husband to return and demand explanations I'm not sure I can give.
I sink onto the bed, my mind reeling. How did he find out so quickly? How much does he know? And what will he do when he gets home and discovers that his wife was plotting with another man? The thought of facing Tristan's anger makes my chest tight with panic. But underneath the fear is something else, something I don't want to examine too closely.
Guilt.
I feel guilty for meeting with Enzo, for listening to his proposal, for even considering betraying the man I married. Which is insane. He's the one who's been hurting me, controlling me, treating me like property. I should want him gone, should jump at the chance to be free of him.
That chance might be entirely gone now. I feel like a caged animal, and I know I’m not going to get any sleep tonight.
I have no idea when Tristan is coming back. But when he does, I know that I’m going to be in more trouble than I’ve ever been in before.
15
TRISTAN
“You’re going to want to hear this, boss.”
From the moment Vitto speaks, I know something is wrong, alarm bells ringing in my head.
"What happened?"
Vitto’s voice is crisp, to the point. “Your wife met with Enzo Torrino earlier today. Lunch at Sol’s Italian Bistro. She claimed she was meeting a friend, so that set off some alarm bells to begin with.”
My jaw tightens. I know Enzo Torrino is Simone’s former almost-fiance. Some women might maintain friendships with men that they were once considering marrying, but Simone is well aware of how improper that is for her. Especially with me out of town. She can’t pretend that she had no idea the questions that would raise if someone had seen her, or how that would reflect on me.
Nor does it make me comfortable that she’s meeting with a mafia heir in my absence.
I let out a slow breath, adrenaline flooding my system. "Were you able to hear what they discussed?"
"No, sir. She insisted we wait outside. But..." He pauses, and I can hear the hesitation in his voice.
"But what?"
"She was different when she came out. Distracted. And when I told her she needed to go to her room and stay there, she didn't fight it the way I expected. Almost like she was expecting it. She believed me when I said the order came from you."
Fuck.I've been gone two days, and already she's meeting with other men, making plans behind my back. The rational part of my brain knows it could be innocent—maybe Enzo just wanted to offer condolences, to check on her welfare. But the possessive part of me, the part that's been clawing at my chest since I left Miami, knows better.
Not to mention the part of me that knows how men like him work—howIwould react, if I were in his place. He was meant to marry her, to inherit everything that I’ve now taken. From what I’d heard of him, I didn’t think he had the balls to try to come for me. But I might have been wrong.
And I know how Simone feels about me.
"Lock her down. No visitors, no phone calls, no leaving the house. I'm coming home." I glance back toward the meeting room, my jaw tensing. My father is going to be pissed. I have no excuse for heading home that doesn’t clue him in to the fact that my wife is once again being disobedient, or that there’s trouble in the paradise he wants me to create. He’s going to lecture me, and I’m already dreading it.
"Already done, sir. She's been in her room since she came home. I escorted her upstairs myself, telling her it was on your orders, and locked her in. She’ll remain there until you come home."
"Good. I'll call the jet and tell them to be ready for me to fly out within the hour."
