Page 14 of His Vicious Vow
An eyebrow goes up as eerie yellow eyes run over the check before he folds it in half and slides it into his inner pocket. “I will warn you, Carina unhappy and suffering affects my wife. My wife unhappy makes me unhappy. Take care of Carina or I will ensure you are as unhappy as the rest of us.”
Totally whipped. Better him than me. “Understood. One last thing, how much does Carlo know about Carina’s extracurriculars?”
“Not as much as he thinks but far more than Carina thinks he does. Carlo does watch over them. While not as closely as I do I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s listening in on you. Especially with him driving you around.”
Shit, I should have known.
Milos nods. “I have a car you can use while you’re here.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. If you need anything while you’re here, let me know.” His cell phone rings.
I leave to allow him to answer the call. By the time I step outside the restaurant a Mercedes Maybach sedan is idling a few feet away. A man gets out with tattoos coverings his hands he offers me the key.
“Tank is full.” He mutters.
“Thanks.” I take the keys and step up to the driver waiting in the SUV. “I have a new ride while I’m in town. Tell Carlo I said thanks.” I don’t give him time to argue.
CHAPTER 6
Carina
My cell phone going off with a text, yanks me out of sleep. I crawl to where my phone landed on the floor by my bed. It’s from Sandro telling me he’s on his way. I check the time. I lost almost three hours.
On wobbly legs I make it into the bathroom. God, I hate the smell of weed. I don’t care if I only have a half hour before Sandro gets here, I need a shower.
I turn the hot water up as high as I can stand it. Anything to wash off the memory of the panic attack. I loathe them so fucking much. They started when I felt the mafia world closing in. After I talked to my mom about moving out the first time. If Celia wasn’t going to be here, I didn’t want to be either. I desperately wanted to follow Celia to college but she was so happy she was finally escaping, it felt like I would be crashing in on her joy.
That and my grades were so bad I didn’t get in. I cared more about making money, not getting into college. What did I need with college if I was already doing what I wanted to do? I used college as an excuse, a way of buying time before Carlo forced me into a marriage.
Since I wasn’t able to go to school with Celia I dreamed of running away from home entirely. Except I didn’t have enough money. There were no guarantees in freelancing—except the guarantee clients would always find an excuse not to pay you. I’ve had clients stiff me more times than I can count.
I envisioned getting a roommate or something only for my mom to remind me I didn’t pay any bills. Why would I move out when I had the place to myself? She was right. She rarely came home. While she paid for the utilities and rent or whatever, I was on my own for food, toiletries, all the rest of it. Which I’d already been more or less since I first started making money when I was fifteen.
After nonna died so did anyone watching over us. Before we were only allowed to use the laptop nonna had in her kitchen under her supervision. Celia said I could have it to open an online store and started making phone and laptop skins heavily influenced by popular anime as long as she could use it when she needed to for homework. Once I made enough money I bought her one of her own as a thank you and so I wouldn’t have to share.
I think in the back of my mind I knew I would be in this situation by giving in. Yet I shrugged, promising myself I’d give it another year or two and I’d really start saving better—instead of spending everything the moment I got money in.
So I didn’t understand what was happening when I was getting ready for bed that night. One moment I was telling myself this is great, no mom to keep an eye on me, no Celia to tell me to go to bed and rest. I was alone. I didn’t need to move out. This was going to be great.
The words replayed over and over in my head: I was alone. This was going to be great. Again and again. I went to turn off the light—everything fell away. I couldn’t reach the light switch. Fear sent my heart into my throat—I didn’t understand where the fear came from.
My throat worked to swallow down what has to actually be my heart in my throat. Except it won’t go down. I can’t breathe.
I wondered if it was an asthma attack or something even though I didn’t have asthma I had a friend who did and it felt like how she described. Except I started sweating, shaking so badly I couldn’t even stay standing. I was on my knees. My chest was beating so hard it hurt. Was I having a heart attack?
To this day I will never know why I crawled into the bathroom, turned on the water and crawled into the bathtub. I thought I’d turned on the hot water but it was freezing. The shock of it, the cold water clinging to me even after I turned off the faucet was what shook me out of it.
Laying in the bathtub, my mind was frantically scanning through the possibilities of what it could be until it hit—a panic attack. The very idea of it had me sitting up and shaking my head. No. Panic attacks were for the weak. I wasn’t weak. In the moment I believed it was because of being home alone, and realizing I was all alone. But now, I can see it for what it was. By not fighting to leave, by not walking away then, I was walking into my own damn prison cell of living this mafia life.
I hear the front door close. Closing my eyes, I’m not weak damn it. This won’t be my life. I make the decisions. I’m in control. Not mommy, not Carlo, and definitely not Sandro. But they can’t know that.
Running my hand through my hair I come away with my wig. With a sigh, I toss it away. Now that I’m in here I might as well do it right. I remove the wig cap, bobby pins, and start shampooing and conditioning my hair.
Out of the shower, I dry off fast. A few sprays of a heat protector before I use the cheat of a hairdryer brush thingy that I love. I wrap myself in my big fluffy pink robe before opening the door.
Sandro is pacing, he stops and stares at me. God, this would all be so much easier if he wasn’t so freaking hot. He’s in a stark black cut to fit him three-piece suit with a dark red shirt and the thin black silk tie is tucked into the solid black waistcoat.