Page 80 of Of Vows and Betrayal

“I need a favor,” I say, my tone turning serious.

There’s a pause on the other end. “Another one?”

“Yes. Ophelia needs to attend her father’s funeral. She needs closure. You’re going, aren’t you?”

He’s silent for a moment, and I can almost hear the gears turning in his head. “Well, the Luccheses are invited, of course, but I think it would be in bad taste for me to show. I’ll send Leo. He knows how to charm a crowd. You’re asking me for something I don’t think I can grant you. This is not Lucchese business.”

“I know,” I reply, my voice steady. “But she needs this. I’ll owe you one.”

He laughs. “You’re already in my debt, Vargas. But I’ll see what I can do. I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you,” I say, even though gratitude feels foreign in this context.

“I’ll be in touch,” he says before the line goes dead.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. It’s a long shot, but it’s all I have right now. I look toward the bedroom door where Ophelia is still shut away, and my resolve hardens. I will do whatever it takes to make things right, to give her even a small measure of peace.

The silence in the apartment is heavy, almost suffocating. I sit back on the couch, running a hand through my hair. My foot still throbbing from where the door hit it, I get up and start pacing, my mind racing with thoughts and regrets. Ikeep glancing at the bedroom door, hoping she’ll come out, but knowing she needs time. More time than I can afford to give her, but I have no choice.

Eventually, the exhaustion catches up with me again, and I collapse back onto the couch. My eyes drift closed, the weight of the day pulling me into a restless sleep.

Chapter 21

Ophelia

Iofficially moved in with Javier a little less than forty-eight hours ago, and I’ve masterfully managed to avoid him since. No, that’s a lie—he’s helping me avoid him.

The first day, I stayed locked in my room despite the hunger. I waited until late at night before raiding the fridge.

When I woke up the next morning, I found a note under the door informing me of the hours he would be away.

In the living room, I discovered a phone preloaded with his number, Derek’s and Father Hernandez’s. I now have a priest on speed dial—it’s quite convenient for on-the-go exorcisms.

He also texted me when he got to the parking garage, leaving me enough time to disappear into my room.

I’m not sure if he’s doing that for my benefit or his—maybe a little of both. He probably can’t stand the accusation on my face. Just as I can’t look at him without the desire to burn him for all the pain he caused me, for how he broke my heart and now triesto atone for his guilt.

Javier Vargas can choke on his sweet lies for all that matters.

The thing is, I know staying in this room, in this place, is unhealthy. I’m lost in my head, ruminating on what I did, what I should have done—who I should have trusted and not trusted.

“Jenna” is back online, and though we both know it’s Derek, we keep the charade up. It’s good to talk to him about my conflicting feelings, and despite everything, I trust him not to tell Javier.

There’s a soft knock at my door. I put the phone on the bed and look at it dumbly. It’s late, much too late for any kind of social call, especially from someone I don’t want to see at all.

“Ophelia, please. I know you’re not sleeping—I can see the light under the door.”

I walk to the door but don’t open it. “I never said I was sleeping, but I remember saying I didn’t want to speak to you.”

“I know.”

I glower at the door. The softness of his tone, the defeat in it, angers me. He’s acting like a kicked puppy instead of a predator caught short of destroying his last victim.

“Unless you’re here to tell me I’m free to go and everyone around me is safe, you can leave.”

He doesn’t talk, and I turn to go back to the bed, knowing that nothing he can say will make me open the door.

“I want to take you to say goodbye to your father.”

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