Page 51 of Cruelest Vow

And what were his plans for keeping me?

* * *

Sundays were meant to be lazy days, healing for the heart and soul. Instead, I was checking work-related emails on my laptop on the living room coffee table, my third cup of java pushed to the side. Some would call me dedicated. The truth was far less admirable. I was terrified that Enzo had already infiltrated another aspect of my business.

While the deliveries for later in the week appeared to be on schedule, my export team never letting me down before, I wouldn’t put anything past my brother at this point. Everything appeared normal but that added to the tension.

He was planning something caustic, intent on derailing my life. But I could swear his intentions were even more evil. I’d secured everything to the point my board of directors would be calling me come the new week, the limitations preventing them from even downloading financials. There was no other choice, although I’d need to devise a better plan within a couple of days.

I’d thought about calling my father but warning him wasn’t in my best interest. Neither was allowing Enzo any additional opportunities of usurping my control. Who would he contact next? How many soldiers did he have waiting in the shadows? And what lengths would he go to in order to act on his nefarious plan? My guess was he was undermining my father as well, but I couldn’t risk being forced to return to Italy, locked down until Antonio was allowed to imprison me.

The entire situation was intolerable.

I sat back in my chair, dropping my head into my hands. I’d allowed myself to enjoy a night of pleasure instead of determining a plan. Ugh. To think I’d almost made an offer of marriage to Nicolo made me laugh. Damn it. I felt so close to the man, as if I could trust him with anything. I’d purposely kept the dark side of my life away from everyone. It was better for them, and I didn’t need the questions.

That meant I had no one to bounce anything off, trying to weigh the odds of what I was thinking.

I still hadn’t sorted through all the emails and in truth I didn’t want to. I moved away from the computer toward the window where the candle was located. Then I peered across the street to Nicolo’s building. I’d imagined him watching me from inside his darkened room as I undressed. Laughing, I pressed my hand against my forehead.

The lack of sleep from an extremely passionate night was taking a toll on my sanity. I glanced at the candle, the flicker even dimmer than the night before. It was past time to change the batteries. As soon as I picked it up, I was instantly placed on edge. There was a smudge on the side. No, not just dirt but a fingerprint. I bought it closer and there was no doubt the dark stain was blood.

I almost dropped it as fear cascaded through the back of my mind. Fortunately, anger soon replaced any thought of terror. I’d been right. My fucking brother had broken into my apartment. He knew about the candle from years before. Only then I’d used wax, the bastard starting a fire in my room from his carelessness while making fun of me.

While I exhaled, I had a feeling nothing would calm my anger. What was I going to do?

When I heard a ping indicating a voicemail, I lifted my head. I hadn’t remembered turning off the ringer. I glanced at the candle one last time. Then I grabbed my phone, unlocking the screen. The unknown number almost made me laugh. The voicemail was over three minutes in length. A spammer on a Sunday? Possible but not usual.

When I hit play, I expected a threat coming from a disguised voice or maybe Antonio antagonizing me about the upcoming nuptials. What I heard almost dropped me to my knees.

Music.

Not just any music, but the same song I used to ask D’Artagnan to play on his guitar over and over again, the very one I’d hummed to Nicolo the night before. It wasn’t possible. No. D’Artagnan was dead. I’d seen his charred body, the horrible event forced on me by my father as he’d laughed at me, calling me out on my ridiculous crush. I’d cried for weeks over losing him, nothing able to pull me from the horrific despair. As the song continued, the lilting Spanish sound filling the room, I dropped the phone on the table, backing away slowly. Then I turned my head toward Nicolo’s apartment. “No. No,” I wailed, my mind spinning with ugly thoughts. Could this be nothing more than a horrible game? Oh, God. I was such a fool.

There were no such things as coincidences in my world. There was only blood and death.

The fear became crippling.

It wasn’t just about my privacy being invaded that troubled me. Someone was playing a nasty game of cat and mouse. From all I knew about the world I’d been forced to grow up in.

There could only be a single result.

The loss of lives. This time, I suspected it would be mine.

However, there was no way I’d go down without a fight.

CHAPTER17

D’Artagnan

I lived and died by my instinct. That had kept me from being ambushed more than once, even if I would have welcomed death at the time. I’d learned to hone it, using my gut to tell me when someone was lying. Call it premonition. Call it learning early on that no one involved in the world of crime syndicates was immune to performing egregious sins or harboring weaknesses.

I’d yet to rely on it after being dragged into the DeLuca family, Franco blindsiding me with his ‘training sessions.’ At least I quickly learned the name was synonymous to methods of torture. Did the events provide training? Yes, enough that within two years I was nothing but muscle and brawn.

Then I’d become a force to be reckoned with.

That’s why the call from the night before was more disturbing as I thought about it. Mattia seemed desperate, almost begging me to hunt down someone I’d never heard of before, erasing him from existence. I’d only heard the level of desperation in his voice once before.

That had been after his mother had been murdered in cold blood. I’d seen an entirely different side of my adopted brother than any time before. He’d wanted revenge on his father so badly that I’d been the one forced to talk him down. That included almost beating the shit out of him to keep him from doing something he’d regret. The incident hadn’t cemented our kinship. He’d held a grudge against me, threatening me more than once that if I told anyone he’d blubbered like a baby he’d chop my head off.

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