Page 8 of Vincenzo's Promise
Vincenzo
Holy fuck!
Damn, she was exquisite. Her dark skin shimmered like it was dusted in flakes of gold, and my fingers itched to see if it was as soft and delicate as it seemed. Her hair was long with thick, tight curls I wanted to run my fingers through while fucking her from behind. And her body—her body was a work of art designed specifically for me.
I couldn’t help but watch the sway of her wide hips and the bounce of her ass as she made her exit from the restaurant with her head held high. My cock jumped, ready for the chance to sink between her thick brown thighs. Isabella Lombardo wasn’t what I’d expected, but she possessed everything I wanted in my Donna. I couldn’t deny it; she was what I wanted, and I’d do whatever needed to be done to have her.
I’d had many women of all persuasions, but none of them compared to Isabella. Everything about her was different. Not only was she beautiful, but she was sophisticated. While she hadn’t grown up in the world, Lombardo had prepared her to be someone’s Donna someday.
She’d taken my statement as an insult, although it wasn’t. I was just surprised. The look she’d thrown my way when I went to apologize had my cock stiffening inside my dress slacks. She’d remained poised in the face of adversity and hadn’t backed down from me, and she would need the same dignity under pressure when she became my wife. Isabella would be mine, and our future together excited me despite the trouble it would cause.
Angelo’s voice broke through my thoughts of Isabella and all the nasty things I could do to that magnificent body. “You have to weigh the pros and cons of this, cousin. How will the other clans react?”
He was not only my cousin, the eldest son of my Uncle Geno, but my Consigliere—my closest, most trusted advisor and friend. I couldn’t just trust anyone. That was the price I paid for beingCapo. Angelo, I trusted with my life. We were blood and tied together through the blood we’d shed throughout the years for the Camorra. His opinion mattered above all others. Yet, his question irked me. What everyone else thought of Isabella didn’t matter to me. The only thing that mattered was what I thought and wanted. Fuck the rest of them. They were of no consequence to me or my life.
“Angelo, when have I cared how anyone sees me?” I questioned. “I want what I want. And I always get what I want. Fuck them or anyone else who has anything to say about what I want to do with my life.”
“Yet, your cousin is right, Vincenzo,” Don Lombardo said, watching the exchange between us. “My daughter is sweet, pure, and not a part of this world for reasons you now see. I’ve kept her away becausetheywould never accept her as a Lombardo despite the blood running through her veins and the last name she carries. Can you?”
I understood the meaning behind Cyrus’s question, and I could accept her for who she was. I wasn’t like the old guard. The views held by many in our world were archaic, including marryingonlyItalians. But the concern in the old man’s eyes was sobering. He didn’t want Isabella to pay for his mistakes. Cyrus wanted her to be loved, not mistreated or looked at as a business transaction. She would never be mistreated by me, regardless of who her father or mother was, but I was unsure if it was possible to ever love her.
To me, she was a business transaction. A way for me to gain the power and territory I wanted. I didn’t love and didn’t believe I was capable. I could give Isabella the world, the life and protection she deserved as my Donna. Anything beyond that was not impossible, but highly improbable.
“Who is her mother?” I asked, ignoring Cyrus’s question.
“She is no longer with us, but she was the love of my life.” He got this wistful look in his eyes before sadness overtook it. “She gave me my daughter, who I love beyond measure, just as much as I loved her.”
I wondered who the woman was that had captured the heart of Cyrus Lombardo. She’d obviously done so if he treated Isabella as if she were family. That was rare in our world, which meant Isabella’s mother had been especially important to Cyrus.
If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I would have never believed he could love anyone but himself. He was ruthless and had been heading the Scuderi family since I was a kid. The man gunned down countless men, for one reason or another. One would think he didn’t have a heart, but the way he spoke of Isabella and her mother had me wondering whether I’d had him pegged wrong. Then again, why keep Isabella hidden away like a pariah? Surely, he couldn’t love her if he had done that. Cyrus wanted to save face in front of the other Families, save face in front of the mafia, and it pissed me off.
“Then why hide her if you love her so much?”
Unexpected anger boiled inside me and caused Don Lombardo to take notice. While his face remained emotionless, he raised his hand to keep his guards from coming towards us, and Angelo’s hand landed on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. We were outnumbered, and to attack a Don would mean death.
I sighed, hoping my anger would settle. If he loved his daughter, why send her away when the best place for her was with family, both to be safe and learn who they truly were?
If it weren’t Isabella, would I even care?
Lombardo began coughing.
When he finally settled down, he wiped his mouth with the white linen cloth and looked at the bloodstain covering it before folding it up and setting it on the table.
We stared at one another. Shock and questions ran through my system. With a knowing look in his gaze, he leaned back in the chair, taking in a deep, shuddering breath.
Is he dying? Did he want me to see? If he did, why?
“You will learn the extent a father will go to keep his daughter from harm when you have one of your own,” he said. “Until then, don’t you dare lecture me, De Maio. I did what any father would do, just as I am doing now.”
“Just as you are doing, now? What does that mean?”
He tilted his head, a smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. “Right now, that’s not important. Just know I knew this day would come, and so did your father. I didn’t expect it in this manner, but nonetheless, it’s happening.”
“My father? What does my father have to do with any of this?” I asked, getting aggravated.
Towards the end of his life, my father and I didn’t have the best relationship. He was a touchy subject for me. I didn’t like to talk about him, especially since the other clans had decided he’d needed to be silenced. He’d become too powerful, forcing me to assume power earlier than I would’ve liked. I’d given up a lot to head the De Maio clan.
“There’s more to this story than you know, Vincenzo. As I said, right now it’s not important.”
