Page 43 of The Mafia's Broken Vows

I debate backtracking, covering up with another lie, but I’m sick of wallowing in so much deception that I decide to come clean.

“Actually, Kira,” I begin, grateful that she can’t see my flush of shame. “That wasn’t why I broke up with him. He was never married. I lied.”

Kira blinks, looking utterly lost. I might as well be speaking a different language.

I force the next words out, each syllable heavy with dread. “I broke up with him because he’s a criminal.”

“Really? That’s why you broke up?”

“Isn’t that reason enough?” I snap in irritation. Kira’s tolerance for crime and criminals almost borders on the romantic. While I may find the dark world fascinating, it’s not one I fancy myself living in.

Most of the time.

Kira scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Please, Addy. He’s a billionaire. Loads of rich people are criminals; they’re just too smart to get caught. Insurance fraud, tax evasion—”

“He’s not that type of criminal, Kira.” My voice comes out sharper than intended. “He’s the type that kills people.”

That brings her up short. “And how would you know that, Addy?”

I take a deep breath. “Because he shot two men. Right in front of me. All because they crashed our dinner and insulted me. That’s why I broke it off.”

Kira goes still, her playful demeanor vanishing like smoke.

“I see,” she murmurs, but other than that, she seems unruffled. “So what happened after he shot those men?”

“Nothing,” I say. “Not a fucking thing. That’s what I couldn’t wrap my mind around. He acted like he’d just swatted a couple of flies! He couldn’t even understand why I was so freaked out about it. He’s . . . he’s not a normal person.”

“No, babes, it would seem not,” Kira muses.

Glad that Kira gets it, I continue. “So, do you see why telling you about him was hard for me? I kept looking over my shoulder, wondering when I’d get questioned for being a witness to a double homicide.”

“Hardly likely,” she scoffs, her voice deceptively soft now. “But I’m curious, though—Dan, is he even American?”

“Of course. Well, he’s Italian-American—”

“Shocker,” Kira interjects. “What’s his full name? Daniele?”

I shake my head. “Dante.”

Kira goes still again. “What?”

“Dante,” I repeat.

“Shut the fuck up.” Kira’s voice is like a whipcrack. “Dante? Vitelli?”

I do a double-take. “How did you guess his surname?”

“Dante Vitelli!” Kira screeches, her hazel eyes as wide as saucers. “Dante Vitelli is your ex? And you hid that from me, you fucking secretive cow?”

“First of all, the operative word is ex. I’m never going back there again.” I sputter, my head spinning. “Secondly, how do you even know of him?”

“What the fuck do you mean how do I know of him? I grew up in Chicago! Dante Vitelli is the shit. He’s the absolute fucking shit of the Outfit. He’s the Underboss.”

I stare at her blankly. “You’ve lost me. What’s an underboss?”

Kira throws her hands up in the air. “You were with the guy for three months, and you don’t know? In Medieval Rome, you could be fed to lions for this.”

I roll my eyes. “It was a long-distance relationship, Kira. We mainly talked on the phone. And it’s not like he opened every conversation with his criminal resume.”

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