Page 73 of Ruthless Vows
His biggest rival, apparently.
My mind flashes to what Dante briefly told me about Sofia, his sister. And I realize this woman has enough ammunition of her own to hate me. If what Dante said is true, and I do believe him, my father is responsible for Vittoria’s daughter’s death.
“Giana,” I say, realizing I’m just staring at this beautiful woman with my mouth hanging open instead of introducing myself. “I can’t begin to apologize for what my father has done. I didn’t know about any of it. I mean, I still don’t really… Dante hasn’t explained—” I’m cut off mid mumble as Vittoria holds her hand up, signaling me to shut up.
“Sweetheart,” she says, scooting closer to me. “My son is a man who has always struggled to find the right words to say. After Julissa and Sofia, a light inside him went out.”
She rubs her arms as if she’s cold, but I have a feeling it’s more about a false sense of security than a chill.
I sit back and wrap myself in the blanket, nodding to the other one. “Would you like a blanket?”
Vittoria shakes her head. “My husband, Romeo. He didn’t get the mafia blood born into him. He’s more his mother. He’s kind, gentle. Not what you think of when you think of the big, bad mafia men. But it’s him. And he’s led the DeSantis men toward a life that certainly isn’t law-abiding or by the book. They are criminals. I am a criminal by all regards.
“But from what I hear, our family is one of the most upstanding. And I’m not just saying it because these men are mine. They don’t dabble in drugs. They don’t hurt women or children. They are, by the standard definition, good men. Yes, they deceive. And they lie to authorities and to the taxman. They make money off people below them. But they stay away from the really bad parts ofthe life, if you understand.”
I nod as I try to maintain eye contact, feeling as if I may shatter at any second.
My family has no regard for women and children. The bruising on my face can attest to that. And obviously, they hang amongst the cartel…so that tells me they are very heavily into the drug side of things. It isn’t surprising at all. Gabriel Jr. was always high on something.
“Do you know much about Sofia and Julissa? I’m assuming he hasn’t let you in much on that. He doesn’t talk about them. I don’t think he’s said a word about it since the day of Julissa’s funeral. It was the last time it had to be real for him.” Vittoria’s face falls, and she wrings her hands in her lap.
“All I know is that my family had something to do with their deaths.”
“Death,” she says, and I’m immediately taken aback.
She draws in a long breath before speaking again.
“Julissa, Dante’s deceased wife, was murdered by someone in the Amato family. At least, that’s what our men have been led to believe. My daughter, Sofia, is still missing. We’ve never gotten her back, alive or deceased. But it’s been nearly a year now. A year since the two of them were taken. Julissa’s body was left here, on Dante’s doorstep, only a month later. But Sofia…” Pain etches into each of her features. “Sofia hasn’t come back.”
I didn’t realize only Julissa was actually confirmed to be deceased. Dante made it seem like they were both dead. I can only assume part of that is due to mourning them both and his assumption Sofia’s fate was sealed in the same way Julissa’s was, but I’m unsure.
“I don’t know what is bound to happen next,” Vittoria says on a sigh. “But whatever does come, please know my son wouldn’t have done what he did… He wouldn’t have sacrificed himself for you if you weren’t important to him. I trust him with my life. Even if he’s quick to act sometimes, he knows himself, and he knows those around him. If he says you aren’t my enemy, I believe him. My son is taken with you, Ms. Amato.Amor di madre, amore senza limiti.”
A mother’s love has no limits.
Italian isn’t my strong suit, but I know enough of the language to know she thinks incredibly highly of her son.
“I don’t see how he could have any mercy on me when my family is the cause for so much of his pain—so much ofyourpain. Of your husband’s pain.”
She smiles, and it’s kind, and I can’t help but feel like she’s a better woman than I’ll ever be. I don’t know if I’d forgive the family of someone who caused me as much heartache as mine has.
“Because you are not your father, sweet girl,” she says, reaching out to pat my hand. Her palm is warm, and her expertly manicured fingernails are the same shade as her lipstick. “If anyone knows about how different a father and daughter can be, it’s me.”
Her words hint at something I know must be much larger than she’s making it out to be, but at the same time, she has the same comfort over me as Dante, and I wonder what I did to deserve to be in their good graces. Her words, though. They linger in my mind.
I am not my father.
Dante didn’t come backthat night. He brought me into his world and then left me alone in his bed.
After Vittoria and I chatted a bit more, she showed me to Dante’s suite and told me her son would probably be out for a while. I got as comfortable as I could in a bed too big for just me, all the while thinking about the dead woman’s nightgown I was wearing and wondering if I was warming her spot on the large bed.
The sun peeks through the blinds of Dante’s room, and what started as a small ache inside my stomach swells in size, like a cancer that’s spreading by the second. I have no place now. At least before, I knew where I belonged, as fucked up as it was. I could toe the line or shrink into a version of myself that fit the norm of my household.
Now all I have is a vacant room and a void that doesn’t sit well with me.
I didn’t want to be with my family when I was there, but there was a strange comfort, a false sense of security about being with the people who raised you. Who clothed and fed you and protected you more times than not.
But if I know anything, it’s that the people who protect you are often the ones who can cut you the deepest, too.