Page 56 of Cruelest Vow

“How the hell do you know?”

“I know more than you think I do. Give me your phone.” When she hesitated, I threw out my arm.

Her body still shaking, she complied after a few seconds. “He’s still my flesh and blood.”

I wanted to laugh, detailing all the horrors I’d been through, but it was pointless. When I rolled down the window, tossing her phone, she gasped.

“You bastard. Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Littleleonessa, I’m the only man who can keep you alive.”

CHAPTER18

Lucia

Some events in life were transformative, often twisting the truth into something ugly and debilitating. That’s the way I’d felt about the last few days, forced to remove the rose-colored glasses I’d kept affixed to my face.

The human mind was a glorious living, breathing creature. The means of deciphering information was intricate, millions of cells required for processing even the most unsettling, vicious aspects that life shoved in your face. When you grow up a mafia princess, violence and bloodshed becoming a sport more than a tragedy, even the most brutal actions seemed everyday occurrences.

But today was different. He was different.

Rarely was I easily fooled. I’d been trained in subterfuge, for God’s sake, almost captured in college. If it hadn’t been for my extensive training, learning how to escape the majority of situations, I’d either be married to some disgusting Russian mobster or six feet under. I’d taken every precaution in my life, keeping weapons in several locations in my apartment. When something had seemed either too good to be true or coincidental, I ran far away from it.

Why and how this? Why him?

Because I’d fallen hard for the man, allowing my desire and loneliness to dictate what my powerful brain could think. That might cost me my life. Shuddering, I rubbed my arms, darting glances every few seconds toward the man who called himself Nicolo. Of course, I realized that was a lie like everything else. Still shuddering, I casually glanced toward the side mirror. The SUVs were no longer in sight. I wasn’t certain if that made me feel better or worse.

The things my brother had said were awful, but to watch him being shot in cold blood was equally as repulsive. Yet the thought continued to linger that he was behind the soldiers who’d attacked us, although I wasn’t certain what to believe any longer. When Nicolo noticed a light turning yellow, I held my breath. As soon as he pressed his foot on the brake, I reached for the door handle.

Before I had a chance to throw open the door, he fisted my hair, dragging me all the way against him.

“I’m not fucking around about this, Lucia. If I need to tell you again, you will be punished.” Even now, his smirk was wolfish, as if he held a secret tight to his chest. I remained unnerved, just as he wanted me to be.

I laughed nervously, jerking away and instantly sliding as close toward the door as possible. The car was already moving again and when I glanced back at the broken glass, icy tentacles wrapped around my muscles. I didn’t want to die. Instead, I wanted revenge against anyone who’d dared place me in this predicament.

This was the kind of moment where I was reminded why I hated the mafia life so much. But maybe the truth was that I hated myself more for being used because the truth was that I’d known Nicolo, or whatever his real name, had neatly fit into the ‘too good to be true’ category.

It was obviously useless to try to run. I didn’t disbelieve the stranger who sat beside me. The attack had been planned, meant to result in my kidnapping or worse. If I dared go to Joy or Marla’s apartment, I’d place their lives in danger. They had no real understanding of who or what I was. If they did, they could have a target on their backs. And my fucking brother might be the reason why.

He’d acted as if I was nothing but a thing to be traded off or sold to the highest bidder. I was used to it with my father, but even though Enzo had always been demeaning, he’d vowed to protect me. Once. I closed my eyes, the pressure in my head agonizing. My brother had stopped caring about me a long time ago. No matter how many romance novels I read about organized crime, there was no glorifying the reality of my world. This wasn’t a fairytale with a happy ending. And the rugged man with cobalt blue eyes sitting next to me wasn’t my Prince Charming.

The ugly question remained regarding who he was and who had hired him to seduce me.

I cautiously glanced in his direction. A bruise was already forming around one eye, blood covering his shirt. “You were ambushed.”

Nicolo casually glanced over. “I was,” he gritted out.

“Who?”

“It would appear we both have quality family issues.”

Narrowing my eyes, I tried to figure out what he was trying to tell me. “Explain.”

“I will. Not now.”

Closing my eyes, I slumped against the seat, doing my best to calm my nerves.

Less than ten minutes later, we were in the heart of Brownsville, District 16 in Brooklyn. The aging commercial buildings, some trashed beyond salvation, shifted to scattered small homes fronting the cracked sidewalks and trash-filled alleys. This was the part of Brooklyn that you didn’t see in sitcoms and movies. It was difficult to fathom this area had once been a quiet location to raise a family. Now it was reckless to come here day or night, gangs all but running every business.

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