Page 75 of Of Vows and Betrayal

“You’re not welcome.”

A stab of pain hits my chest. “No, this is my father.”

“Madre de Dios,” he mutters, sitting back down. “This isn’t about him. Funerals never are. Your father was a traitor.” He raises his hand, silencing me. “I’m not talking about the whole mess about you fucking your bodyguard.”

I blush but refuse to look away.

“As I said before, Dario and your father had a long-standing issue, and well, this was always going to be the outcome. I don’t blame you, not really—at least not in private. Your father is getting a properfamigliafuneral, which is all he wanted. He didn’t want to finish disgraced, and he’s getting that—much to Dario’s dismay, if I may add. Dario may have acted a little impulsively at the church; we all know that, and this is how I managed to get realfamigliafunerals.”

“Alittleimpulsively?” He’s saying this as if he threw a fit, not as if he ended a man’s life.

He shrugs. “Nothing is stopping you from going to his grave after, but don’t cause a scene. If you truly care about him, don’t make his funeral aboutyou. Don’t remind people of his latest mistake.”

Taking me in was a mistake, trusting me was a mistake, and it’s a hard pill to swallow, especially when it’s not said with malice but only as a statement of fact.

“I’ll have your things shipped to your place. Leave me the address.”

“My place…” I trail off. I have no place.

He looks at his watch and huffs with impatience. “Come, let’s go to your room and pack what you need for right now. I’ll have the rest dealt with.”

I stand up and follow him down the hall automatically—my mind reeling so much that it feels like I’m on autopilot.

I follow him to my room—well, my old room, it seems. He closes the door and rests his back against it.

I take a suitcase from my walk-in closet and open it on the bed before grabbing the photo of my mother and me on the dresser and clutching it to my chest.

“You have to stay with him,” Fabrizio says quietly, as if he’s reluctant to concede anything at all.

“I can’t.” I won’t.

“If you cared for your father—even a little—you will. That man did everything to keep you alive. Stay with him until you find strong enough protection. The lives hanging in the balance—this is not a threat, it’s a promise. Even if your father’s death isn’t on your head, any death after will be your guilt to bear.”

I stop packing for a second and look at him. “Why do you care?”

He shrugs, a fleeting look of regret crossing his face. “Take it as my way of trying to fix things, to apologize for not stopping Dario, for—” He stops, but his eyes betray a deeper conflict. “Just thank your good luck and move on.”

I loathe the idea of sharing a space with Javier. The thought of being tricked into a marriage I didn’t want makes my skin crawl, but the reality of those documents leaves me with no choice. I regret the day I met him, the day I gavehim my trust—the day I… I shake my head. No, don’t go there.

I pack the suitcase, not really caring what I put in it, as long as I don’t have to go around wearing Javier’s clothes. I also take a minute to change into a pair of jeans and a dark-brown sweatshirt, reflecting my mourning in the best way I can.

“He was not perfect, but I think he loved me,” I say as I close the case.

“He did, but it doesn’t mean very much in our world.”

I move toward the door, but he stands in front of it, blocking my path. An irrational part of me hopes that maybe he’s changed his mind, that perhaps he’ll say I can stay.

“I know that husband of yours has a taste for revenge.”

I grimace at the word and open my mouth to correct him, but he raises his hand to stop me.

“Don’t let him drag you in this any further than you already are. Dario is not your problem—we have a judge for this reason. As I said before, the wedding may have been the last straw, but Dario always planned to end your father’s life. Angelo had it coming.”

Part of me is glad that I’m facing my emotionally detached cousin because anyone else might have put doubts in my head that he’s only trying to ease my guilt. But he’s not the type.

I know my father led a dodgy life, and I knew that this was always a potential outcome. I always knew that there was no lost love between Dario and him.

No, what I feel right now is far more confusing. Guilt gnaws at me, but it is the pain and anger that burns the hottest,threatening to consume me from the inside out. The bitter taste of betrayal lingers on my tongue—anger at Javier for tricking me, at my father for leaving me, which brings the other overwhelming feeling… shame. Shame at being so gullible, shame for trusting a pretty face with sweet words.

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