Page 124 of The Mafia's Broken Vows

“Look. You have no choice but to pay the upfront cost: An exchange of blood vows and one full night with you. But I promise, Adele, tonight will be the last time you ever lay eyes on him.”

My eyelids fall closed as a calm settles over me. This is the closure I need. I was nothing but a pawn, an asset to the Mob, and a willing captive. And now, a legal tender to purchase an army.

I was never a daughter to Benjamin O’Shea. No real father would do this to his daughter. My father is Orlando De Luca, a ruthless mafia Capo and a drug lord. And I would take him over this sadistic, lying piece of shit in front of me.

When I open my eyes, they’re as cold and hard as the gun I wish I had right now. “Alright. Can I at least know more about the man I’ll be marrying besides him being the top gun of some gang?”

A cruel, almost proud smile twists Benjamin’s lips. He thinks I’ve got my shit together and ready to play ball. His mocking tone returns. “All in good time, Adele. You’ll have plenty of time to meet him. You’ll be spending the whole night with him, after all.”

Suddenly, I let out a carefully controlled sob. My eyes, however, remain dry as a bone. The sobs continue, increasing in volume until my entire body is shaking with them.

He stands there, hesitating, watching me like a science project gone wrong. I think a part of him wants to do what he did in the past; take me in his arms and tell me it’ll be okay. But the masks are off now, and he doesn’t need to hide what an absolute joke of a father he is.

I cradle my lower belly as I think of Dante again. Fierce, dominant, protective Dante. Will he even realize that I’m gone? Will anyone? I’m sure Aydin could spin a tale for everyone to explain my disappearance. I can only pray it’s not too late.

One thing is clear, though: I’d rather die than marry this son of a bitch.

When he continues to gawk like a stunned fish, I spit, “How about you get out so I can have a moment to myself before I’m sold off?”

Benjamin shakes his head and huffs, “As long as you remember the stakes.” Then he leaves without another word. As if I’m the one being unreasonable.

The moment the door clicks shut, I straighten up, and my sobs cut off abruptly.

I don’t know where the cameras are, but I need anything that could be a weapon. My gaze lands on the food table, and suddenly, I’m ravenous. As I approach, my eyes lock on a wooden spoon. There’s nothing else on the table. No fork, no knife, no glassware.

Still feigning tears, I reach for a spoon and yogurt. It’s not much, but the spoon is surprisingly sturdy. Better than nothing. As I eat, my mind races with possibilities, my thumb brushing over the rounded end of the spoon, making a mental note to find a way to sharpen it.

I have no illusions about escaping before the ceremony. But after? During the “wedding night”?

That’s when I’ll make my move. That’s when I’ll fight.

Chapter Forty

Dante

As the door closes behind Nico, I take a deep breath and say to Sal, “Call the smug son of a bitch.”

Sal fishes out a sleek black digital device, scrolls down, then starts typing a secure communication code onto the laptop.

Like a nomad, Cade’s location changes every few weeks, but he never fails to update his sister, who invariably passes the information to Sal.

Within seconds, the line crackles to life, and I hear the gravelly voice of the man I despise almost as much as I need right now.

“Hey, Sparrow,” he calls Sophie’s road name, an unusual warmth seeping into his voice.

“It’s er . . . Dante,” I say through gritted teeth.

Cade’s tone instantly drops a thousand degrees colder when he demands, “Is Sophie okay?”

“Sophie’s fine,” I reply. “But I need—”

“Then we’re done here, Dumber.” Cade cuts me off, ready to hang up.

“Wait, Quinn.” I clench my fist and swallow my pride, knowing what’s at stake. “I need your help finding two women.”

Silence greets me for what feels like a full minute, and then Cade drawls, “So, you’ve lost a couple of your imported pleasure slaves. What the fuck do you want me to do about that, besides lock you up?”

I take a calming breath and then force the words out. “You know better, Quinn. You know we don’t deal with flesh—”

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