Page 101 of Of Vows and Betrayal

His words feel like a physical blow, and I take a step back. “You told me to move on and enjoy Lucchese’s protection.”

“And you’ve clearly done it.”

“Do you need some flowers?” I point at the premade bouquet. “Take one—on the house.”

He walks over to the flowers, assessing them. I check my phone but realize it’s not connected. I didn’t call anyone.

“You know?—”

Startled, I drop the phone back into my apron pocket.

He turns back around. “I think you may still have a place in thefamigliaafter all.”

I’m not as naive as I was just a few months back, and I can sense a trap when I see it. “How is that?”

“It seems that your husband is close to Lucchese.”

I don’t answer because, truthfully, I don’t know, but I don’t want Fabrizio to know that.

“Lucchese is an annoyance.” He lets his fingers brush against the petals of a red rose. “Maybe you could—I don’t know—let me know how your husband is helping him.”

Best way to end up dead in a ditch, and yet I ask, “And would Dario mysteriously end up dead?”

Fabrizio’s eyes light up. “It could be arranged—accidents happen.”

Backstabbing rats, every single one of them, and if I wasn’t done with this part of my DNA before, I’m completely done now.

I sigh. “Sadly, I can’t help you. My husband doesn’t trust me around business things.”

Fabrizio steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he towers over me. “As I said, accidents happen. It would be a shame if anything were to happen to you.” His voice drips with menace, each word a carefully sharpened blade. I flinch and step back, my breath hitching in my throat.

“A shame indeed.”

I spin around, my heart leaping into my throat, to see Lucchese emerging from the shadows by the back door, his presence a dark silhouette against the dim light.

Fabrizio keeps his composure, but his sickly green hue gives him away. “Rafaele.”

Lucchese strides forward, his fingers casually adjusting the cuffs of his tailored jacket. “Fabrizio,” he says, his voice smooth yet laced with an undercurrent of danger, “coming to say hello to my friend Ophelia—Ophelia Vargas, you know.” The name Vargas feels foreign yet undeniable as it hangs in the air between us.

“Yes, but she’s my cousin—Gambino blood,” Fabrizio says as if any of us needs a reminder.

Lucchese cocks his head to the side. “Is she though? I thought you rejected her. Now she’s my responsibility.” He takes another step toward Fabrizio. “Pray to God that nothing happens to her because if it does—and I mean anything—I will skin you alive. And that’s not a threat, that’s a promise.”

Fabrizio straightens and throws me a cold look. “Always a pleasure, cousin. I am glad to see you are securing your loyalties.”

I nod. “Same to you.”

As soon as he leaves, I turn to Lucchese. “You were joking, right?”

“About skinning?”

I nod slowly.

“Yes, absolutely. It takes much too long, and if the person doesn’t hydrate the skin or drink enough water, it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Sure…” A shiver runs down my spine at Lucchese’s words. His calm demeanor does nothing to mask the dark truth I know all too well—the man before me has a history of unspeakable acts. “Why are you here?” I finally ask.

“I came to say hi and buy a bunch of flowers,” he deadpans.

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