Page 102 of Sinner's Vows

When he presses a kiss to my temple, I curl into him, never wanting to let go.

55

DOMINIC

I never closed the cabin windows, and we’ve flown into the night. Ariana is curled up against me, and for a last minute, I treasure the feel of her soft body against mine, the sweet scent of sex still clinging to her skin, begging me to lick it off her inch by inch. I could do all of that again, but I best check in on the time as I’ve lost track completely.

I get up and go dig in my jacket pocket for my cellphone. We’ve less than two hours of flight time left, and I’m freaking hungry. Several missed calls and messages from both Matteo and Benedict, but I’m not going to read and reply to them now. The knowledge that Matteo is Randazzo’s son weighs on me, but it doesn’t feel like something I want to throw into the void via an email. It doesn’t change anything between us brothers, but it changes everything for Ariana.

I dress in a robe, quietly open the door, and slip out to where I’ve left my laptop earlier. I indicate to the hostess we’re ready to eat, and with my laptop in hand, retreat back to the bedroom. I want to spend as much time with Ariana as possible. I can’t shed this ticking time-bomb feeling in my stomach, which is weird since most of the issues I thought we had have been ironedout. It’s this situation with Gabriella which is working on me subconsciously.

We’re heading for Lamezia Terme, a smaller international airport in the south of Italy, closest to where Ariana told me she grew up in Calabria. Once we land, we’ll have vehicles to take us to the small town and from there to the farmhouse where Franco’s uncle still hides out. We’ll arrive at the crack of dawn, and for Antonio Mancuso’s sake, I hope he’s a morning person.

It’s good we had a nap. This day is still going to be a motherfucker. There’s been one too many of those lately, and I’d be happy to have this whole mess sorted out.

I settle back on the bed and flip open my laptop screen, go through the security checks with my thumbprint and codes, and finally, the home screen opens. I give it a minute to connect again to the WiFi, relieved Ariana has her back to me and won’t be disturbed by the laptop’s screen.

Once I’m connected, I open my email, my eyes by habit skipping over all the weeds in my inbox, homing in on the important ones. Benedict. Fingerprints.

I open the email and read the short message.

By the time I’ve read the last line, my heart thumps in my chest, and my stomach is twisted into a fist. I fucking knew it. Deep down in me, I fucking sensed it, but I was too blindsided to see what I knew was in front of me.

I read the message again and again, getting to grips with this reality slap in the face.

Nicky,

I had to dig and get others to dig even deeper. And then dig some more. Ariana Morelli is buried deep, but my team likes a challenge, especially when money and bets get involved.

The bad news:

Ariana Morelli is a DIA agent, working for the Direzione Investigativa Antimafia. It’s a police force tasked with combating organized crime in Italy. She’s an undercover agent, which explains some of her arrival in the US. If Franco Fiore knew she was working undercover, he’d have no scruples in using and offing her.

Franco had no scruples to begin with. I read the rest of the message again, my fist clenching.

The good news:

The DIA already thinks she’s dead. She’s been declared missing on their files, presumed dead, and this dates back to the time of Randazzo’s death. Not sure how this all connects, but don’t cradle that one too close. She’s dangerous and has seen too much on our side of the pond. Matteo will have more instructions for you.

Fuck. Benedict has copied Matteo in on this message, but our new Don already made his instructions clear. I bet if he knew this about Ariana, he would never have let her leave the US in the first place, where she’d be less of a liability to us.

If I knew about this, I wouldn’t have let her leave the fucking Don’s house. I would have kept her locked up, where she’s safe.

In the old Don’sIl Consiglio, Ariana would have been an automatic execution. No questions asked. Not with what she’s seen, witnessing Franco’s death at our hands, irrespective of whether he deserved it or not. Plus she’s ready to identify us all in a fucking line-up. My fingers quiver over the laptop keys as my chest tightens at the mere thought of the Don and Ariana. Together. Face to face.

A tsunami of emotions unleashes in me, and I have to remind myself again and again that the Don is dead and he can’t hurt her. Not like he hurt mom while I was too weak to protect her. I swallow down the painful pebble in my throat and groan. We have a new Don, and he might be her brother, but Matteo hasn’t been tested. He could use Ariana if things get desperate enough.

Once she’s back in Boston, she’ll be deemed anIl Consiglioasset, and right now, this could mean being fobbed off to an asshole like Ivan Petrov. For all I know, he’s the type who’ll have no qualms using her, raping her, and then offering her to his men for their fucking pleasure.

I’m trembling so much, I grip the laptop screen and breathe through it as my gaze drags over the lines of Benedict’s message again. Eventually, my fear is crushed under anger and desperation.

I’m fucking pissed off that I’d been so slow to catch on with all her tells, but now this idea of her suffering at the old Don’s hand—now Matteo’s hand and maybe even Petrov’s hand—evokes something else in me. A protective demon I didn’t even know existed. I’m a fallen angel who only wants to wrap her in my charred wings and keep her close, hide and protect her from this sick world we live in.

A world she’s as much part of, even if she’s chosen to step out of the herd and become a hunter.

My skin crawls with strands of information I can’t tie together, with all the knowledge and secrets we keep to ourselves. I already see the connection Benedict and Matteo can’t see because I haven’t told them Ariana is Matteo’s half-sister. Randazzo’s daughter. A Mafia princess. Working for the Italian police. As a fucking undercover agent.

I reach for her and ghost my trembling fingers over her hair. She is so delicate, beautiful, so treasured that I can’t find it in me to wake her and shatter this moment and drag her into this newreality, her final secret exposed. She’s still asleep, but she stirs as if she could feel my caress.

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