Page 24 of The Mafia's Broken Vows

Adele

I wake up with my skull throbbing like it’s hosting a rave party. For a second, I’m lost, my brain scrambling to make sense of my surroundings.

The musty smell of the car assaults my nostrils, and it all comes rushing back like a tidal wave of “oh shit.”

I bit that hulking gorilla who had the audacity to throw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Guess he didn’t appreciate my dental work, considering he tossed me to the ground like a possessed harpy.

My head must’ve bounced off the ground, knocking me out cold.

Passing out during a kidnapping? Real clever, Addy.

I gingerly touch the back of my head, half expecting my hand to come away sticky. Thankfully, there’s no blood, just a goose egg the size of Texas. My wrists ache like they’ve been in shackles, but somehow, they’re free now. Small mercies.

The wide-open car door screams “trap!” but my legs have a mind of their own. I’d rather crawl back to the road on my hands and knees than stick around for round two with Hulk.

I scramble out of the car, my head spinning like a top. And that’s when I see him.

Not Hulk, but someone else. Someone who just might be the forbidden man who haunts my dreams and waking thoughts and makes me shake with need like a crack addict.

His back is turned, his head bowed, and his hands shoved in his pockets like he’s posing for a GQ shoot. Six foot five, impossibly broad shoulders, and that glossy black hair pulled back in a messy man bun? Unmistakable.

This . . .

This simply cannot be happening. I promised myself there was no way the universe would let me run into this man. Not only did the universe let me down, the bitch decided I’d meet him while looking my absolute worst.

I’m barefoot—courtesy of my simian abductor, my hair is like a bird’s nest, and I’m pretty sure my skirt is ripped in more than one place. Not exactly the reunion to relish.

I blink hard, hoping to clear the haze and the man from my vision, but there’s no mistaking him. It is Dante Vitelli, in the flesh. My heart drops into my belly then flips over itself, which is ridiculous considering all the acrobatics it’s been doing all evening.

I take a step forward, gravel poking into my bare feet. “Dante?”

He turns, his steel-gray eyes locking onto mine, and I lose my breath. Dante is the embodiment of danger—a walking, talking hazard sign. And no matter how much I hide, it seems danger always finds me. It’s like a freaking curse.

I swallow against a suddenly parched throat. “How are you here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Addy,” Dante snaps angrily, hands still clenched in his pockets. “What the fuck are you doing skulking around in my city at night?”

His city? His tone gets my back up. Arching a single eyebrow, I shrug. “Oh, you know, I just thought I’d pop by Chicago for the world-famous ‘Get Kidnapped by Goons’ tour. It’s all the rage now in Boston, you see.”

His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “Are you with the Irish?”

I stare at him in confusion, remembering how the Hulk asked if I was Irish. “Why the hell would I be with the Irish? What Irish?”

When he simply continues to watch me, I say, “Oh right, of course. Because every half-Irish redhead automatically comes with a built-in leprechaun squad, right?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Addy,” he grits. “What the fuck are you doing in Chicago? I thought Daddy doesn’t let you leave Boston.”

I bristle at his mocking tone, my own temper flaring. “First of all, screw you. And second, I don’t need anyone’s permission to go where I please.”

“Don’t you?”

Just then, a large black SUV pulls up and my captor hops out. He tosses the key to Dante and says something in Italian, which Dante replies to with a curt nod. Then he disappears without another word.

Dante gestures to the car. “Get in. Let’s get you out of here.”

“Why don’t you fuck off? I’m tired and in pain, and I need to crash right,” I point to the Marston, “there.”

He sighs, then starts to move toward me, but he seems to think better of it and stops. Even so, I feel the shrinking distance between us, like a force field that is getting stronger. “That place is mine.”

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