Page 88 of Unwilling Vow (Mafia Marriages 4)

“You’ll want something in return.” He’s not offering me a cash payday without strings. I won’t be his puppet.

“I want Jace to pay for what he did.”

* * *

There’s a firm knock on the door.

Luka is gone. He disappeared after roughing me up, leaving me with a bloody lip. I flip on the table side lamp and hesitantly approach the front door.

I glance through the peephole, this time being more careful about who I let into my apartment.

It’s Jace, and he’s holding Astrid in a sling wrapped around his chest.

I don’t want to let him in, but are Luka’s men nearby? It would be worse if they hurt Astrid. I could never live with myself if something happened to that little girl.

“What do you want, Jace?” I ask.

“Let me inside.”

I shuffle my feet and relent, unlocking the door. He’d never hurt me. At least not physically. I unclasp the lock and take a step back. “It’s open.” I turn and head for the kitchen so he can’t see my bloodied lip. I cleaned it up, but it’s swollen and bruised.

I reach for a glass from the cabinet and turn on the tap, grabbing something to drink—a distraction.

He closes the door and secures the lock. I hear it click into place. I pause in the kitchen, my back still to him.

“How are you doing?” Jace asks like it’s the most ordinary question, and we’re at work. His demeanor is friendly, warm, and not the least bit professional. He’s casual, like we’re old friends, and he’s just stopping by to see me.

“I’m fine.” I sip the water as I stand over the sink.

Jace comes into the kitchen. He’s quiet, methodical. He opens the fridge.

“Help yourself,” I mutter.

“To what? It’s empty.”

“There are a few things in there,” I stammer. It’s not exactly empty. I haven’t starved myself for the past week since I left, but it’s not like I’ve eaten great either. There were a few food items that Matteo must have put into the freezer, which I thawed and cooked for dinner.

“One meal a day isn’t enough, Olivia.”

I spin around on my heels to face him. “Why do you care?” I ask. I want to stare at him, shout, and remind him that he’s the bad guy. Not me.

But one glance at Astrid curled up against his chest, and my heart breaks. My bottom lip trembles and my eyes burn with tears.

I rush past him, making a beeline for the bathroom to run and hide.

Jace grabs me by the arm, stopping me from fleeing.

“What happened to your lip?”

“I walked into the door.”

He doesn’t buy my excuse. “No, if you had that yesterday when Ryder stopped by, he would have told me. What happened?” Jace isn’t the least bit calm or collected. His anger is bubbling to the surface.

“It doesn’t concern you,” I say. “I’m not your problem anymore.”

“Is that what you think you are to me, a problem?” Jace scoffs. He lets go of my arm, but I don’t run.

What’s the point? He’s not going to hurt me. Not like Luka would when he showed up, which still leaves a rock in the pit of my stomach. A heavy ache that torments me.

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