Page 8 of His Vicious Vow

The more I thought about it the more appealing Italy or Switzerland sounds. I’m just worried about the idea of running into someone who was connected to the Outfit in Chicago if I went to Italy. It’s highly unlikely but I wouldn’t want to find out the hard way I was wrong. If I try to run and Carlo finds me, he’ll make my life hell.

I pull my phone out and do searches for what countries are easy to immigrate to. While England or somewhere in Europe appeals, it’s easier for Mexico and countries in South America. I’ve heard too many stories about the cartels. It was only if they didn’t see you as a threat to business they left you alone. If they found out who I was I wouldn’t put it past them to hold me for Carlo.

The recorded voice tells me my stop is next. I get up and move toward the doors. From the corner of my eye I see a hot guy who screams soldier at the doors at the other end of the car getting off at my stop. Wait a second, I saw him at the airport when I was leaving the restroom I used after landing. Something niggles at the back of my neck.

When the doors open, I step back instead of getting off. The guy gets off. I watch him scan the platform. He looks back to me and our eyes meet. Fuck. He was following me. My blood runs cold. Who was he?

Fear grips me tight as I exit at the next stop and try to cross to go back the other way. I’m stopped by Tony Sabatini.

“Carina, sweetheart, your father wants to see you.” The words are gentle, like his brilliant blue eyes.

I shake my head. Tony is one of the few men, I’ve spoken to all these years. He’s the only one who made me feel like he cared if I spoke. He listened to every word and made them feel precious. “Please, Tony, let me go.”

“It’s not safe for you out there alone. If I thought it was, I would help you. But it isn’t. At least listen to the offer.” He holds his hand out to me.

God, why couldn’t it have been anyone but Tony Sabatini? Even though I’ve heard from Carlo that Tony Sabatini’s nickname in the Outfit is the librarian, from his love of books, it should be the grim reaper. No man in the Outfit has more kills than he does. Tony is the only man Carlo fears. When he described the things Tony has done, I understand the fear. Yet, I have never feared him. I felt safe with Tony.

I trust him. Of all the men I’ve encountered he’s the only one I believe in. The memory of the guy on the platform hits me. Why isn’t it safe? I want to ask the question. Words are failing me though. I take Tony’s hand. It’s a big hand, it’s also warm and gentle as he guides me.

He opens the door to the back of the Cadillac SUV he’s always in. His driver takes my carry on from me. I let it go with a sigh. Once I’m inside, Tony closes my door.

The drive to Carlo’s house is short but long enough by the time we arrive my stomach is hurting from all the twisting it’s doing. Tony is the one to open my door. He offers his hand again to help me down. I take it and slide onto stiff legs.

Tony guides me into Carlo’s office. I don’t miss the way Carlo’s eyes narrow on Tony’s hand at my back. His jaw goes tight. My mother is behind Carlo, no surprise there.

Carlo nods at Tony. “You can go.”

I shake my head. Grasping Tony’s hand tight. He nods. “When she wants me to leave. I’ll leave.”

He shrugs. “You’re getting married. Luca is staying here in Chicago. His number two, Sandro, will take over. He needs a wife to do it. Don’t even start with me Carina. You can’t keep running around and acting like a kid. It’s time to grow up.”

I thought I was prepared for the words. Was certain they were coming, they still send the floor out from under me and my stomach so twisted I wonder if I’m going to throw up.

My mother steps toward me. If she touches me I will throw up. Unwilling to let Carlo see it happen, I back away from her and into Tony. “Carina, Alessandro is a good man. He will treat you well.”

I’m shaking my head, looking toward the door. Tony’s hand squeezes mine. I cling to his strength somehow finding my own because of it. “Why don’t you meet with him? Five minutes.”

There is something in Tony’s eyes. I can’t refuse him. I nod.

The door to the library is open. Tony urges me inside the room before him. I stop short at the man standing at the windows. He turns. Holy fucking shit. He’s gorgeous. He has the kind of chiseled features I thought only existed in print. A square jaw with cheekbones are chiseled out of granite. His eyes are an intense sapphire blue. No way does he have a tattoo on his neck. Tattoos that showed were a huge no in the Outfit. The tattoo is of the eyes and to the nose of a tiger. The tiger has the same intense blue eyes as he does. Everything about him is a warning, a threat of violence, mayhem, destruction—he thinks the elegant three-piece gray silk suit cut to fit him hides it all but it doesn’t.

“Tony, thank you. Now please take your hand off her.” The words are whiskey and smoke that slide down my spine leaving fire in their wake.

Tony’s chuckle is light. Leaning down he whispers to me. “His bark is much worse than his bite. If you need me, I’m here.”

I barely hear the door close behind Tony, all I can see is him. I’ve heard of him but my memory fails me at anything else than he’s been by Luca’s side since the beginning.

He moves with a fluid grace like the tiger tattooed on him. The silk suit doesn’t hide muscles rippling with each step he takes. I’m not drooling—oh fuck I am. And it isn’t only my mouth wet as he stops too damn close, forcing me to look up at him. I don’t dare let myself stare at his wide, muscled chest. He’s at least a foot taller than me. I’m guessing he’s a few inches over six foot.

“Look, I do not want this marriage any more than you. I think it best if we are honest. I’m not going to chase you around the penthouse. You can have your own room and the time you need to reconcile yourself to being a wife. There is no rush on kids. We can wait on them until you’re ready to grow up and be an adult.” The words are clipped, almost curt as they cut into me.

And just like that everything goes dry. What a dick. Of course Carlo picked him.

He pulls his hand out of his pocket and offers me a ring. It’s enormous, at least five carats. A single diamond solitaire in a pear shape against yellow gold. It’s ugly. There is no way in hell I’m wearing that. I shake my head. He doesn’t deserve a single word.

His frown deepens as he thrusts it at me. “You will wear your ring at all times. As for your clothing you will not wear those short skirts any longer. I don’t need other men looking at my wife with lust. While we’re in Vegas we have a reputation to uphold. You want to do the conventions, you can do them but no more cosplaying. It’s time to put childish things away. If you want to keep working you can do it as long as it’s from home and you don’t have male clients you’re alone with. You’ll get your computer back if you follow those rules.”

“What in the actual fuck did you just say to me?” The words are out before I can stop them.