Page 56 of The Mafia's Broken Vows

Thinking those two would get along really nicely in the coming months, I straighten my jacket and head for the stairs, anticipation thrumming in my belly.

She’s mine, she’s on my turf, and oh so fucking ripe for the picking.

Chapter Sixteen

Adele

Watching Dante leave with his fiancée feels like having a hole carved in my chest with a blunt knife. Unnatural and brutal.

As he guides her up the steps, I notice Dante’s usually loose-limbed gait seems forced, his shoulders tense under his tailored jacket while Alina strains to get nearer to him. It seems obvious to me that he doesn’t return her affections, but then again, that might be the stupidly hopeful part of me thinking that.

Whatever the case, though, Dante is committed to her. He’s marrying her. He wouldn’t even spare me a glance while she was there.

Suddenly, I understand why he was so conflicted the last time we were together. Why he needed to smoke so badly. Why he told me never to come back.

It had nothing to do with the Outfit’s so-called war with the Irish or our roles in the Martelli trial. It’s because he was engaged to Alina.

The man was just being nice, and I threw myself at him, pushed his buttons, and even flashed him my legs.

Really, what did I expect from Dante after I did all of that?

And now, there’s nothing more to do than leave him alone. The pulsing beat of the club suddenly feels suffocating, the flashing lights disorienting.

“Well, Kira,” I say, forcing a wry smile and slipping off my stool. “As far as dramatic ex reunions go, this was soap opera gold.”

“Addy,” Kira’s hand stops me with a hand on my arm. “Dante won’t marry her. He’s just biding his time until he can break things off.”

“Oh please, Kira. I don’t need any platitudes here. I’m a big girl,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself.

“Trust me, babe, that’s not what I’m doing. Dante Vitelli only does one thing: What he wants to do. And he clearly doesn’t want Alina.”

No argument there. Still, I’m not about to stick around for crumbs. Coming here was a big mistake in the first place. “Well, good for him. I’m leaving.”

“You’re going back on a fifteen-hour drive to Boston now?”

“No, of course not. I’ll find a motel, and come back at dawn when you finish up. And I promise I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” I say to reassure her when I see her brows knit with concern.

Kira throws her arms around me. “Okay, babe. Thanks. For everything. And I’m sorry. I just thought that if you saw him again, you’d get some clarity on the . . . situation.”

“It’s okay, Kira. I understand. You’re an amazing DJ, by the way,” I whisper, my chin resting on her shoulder. “Way, way better than your idol, Zedd.”

She chuckles, kisses my cheek, then steps back and lets the tattooed man guide her away. The man inclines his head to me in a gesture I can only interpret as respect before he leads Kira away.

As soon as the duo disappears into the throng of gyrating dancers, I get the urge to escape and breathe. Maybe cry a little too. I need to process everything that just happened tonight.

I grab my purse and turn to leave.

But I don’t even make it two steps before a large hand clamps down on my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

“Not so fast.”

I jump and almost scream in alarm, and then I see it’s none other than Hulky. His massive frame towers over me, his grip firm but not painful.

“For fuck’s sake, get a real job, Hulky. Manhandling women is about as classy as a fart in church,” I spit, my free hand balling into a fist at my side.

His grip on my arm remains like a vise. “Says the woman who bites like a rabid chihuahua,” he retorts, his face impassive save for a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Anyway, Boss wants a word with you.”

“Oh really? Well, tell Boss that he can go fuck himself.”

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