Page 29 of Sinner's Vows

I’ll have one chance.One.

With a deep but soft sigh, I slump onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Voices sound from the entrance, the one that leads to the garage, and my ears perk up. Women’s voices.

Gigi Trapani.I’ll recognize her voice anywhere for the rest of my life. How can I not when the way she begged with Franco to let Carla go is imprinted on my mind? It was futile to beg with him for any kind of mercy. Even now, goosebumps rush over myskin at the memory, and I want to sink deeper into the covers until I’m submerged.

Franco is dead,I remind myself for the hundredth time today, still in disbelief.

Then the voices are closer, and a stranger peeks into my room. She’s young and American-pretty, if there’s such a thing. Blond hair and light eyes, perfect skin, and dressed casually in jeans and an off-the-shoulder white T-shirt that hangs loose over her hips.

“Hey,” she says as she steps into the room, flowers in hand, uncertain as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

The massive diamonds on her ring finger catch the light, and I have to do a double take. Oh my God. The mobster’s wife. It could be one of their sisters, though. I have no guarantee they only have the one who’s missing.

“Hi,” I say, wishing she’d reverse out of my space and I didn’t need to do this.

“I’m Tasha. Tasha Scalera, Matteo’s wife,” she says softly as she walks up to me. “I came to check in on you.”

She smiles at me, and it’s so warm and genuinely caring, I have to warn myself. I don’t do friendly, least of all with Mafia wives.

When I say nothing, she glances around the room, spots Dominic’s flowers in their vase, and chuckles. “Oops, we didn’t think that far. We just got these on the way here and didn’t think there…would…be…a vase problem.”

Tasha speaks slower and slower when I don’t respond. She’s being kind, and who knows how she got manipulated into the position she’s now holding.

I reach out to take the flowers from her. “Thank you. I’m sure the nurse can find another vase. They’re beautiful.”

I’m slightly sour that I won’t get to appreciate these gorgeous and expensive blooms. It’s not as if anybody ever buys meflowers in my real life. With a fake smile, I remind myself who I am—who I was a mere five weeks ago until Franco got hold of me. That I have a team who is probably going mad looking for me, just as I’m worried sick about them.

“I’m so glad you speak English. I know zero Italian…well, that’s not entirely true because Matteo’s been teaching me some naughty words,” she says with her warm smile never leaving. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, but you are safe now, out of that maniac’s hands.”

I bet she doesn’t know how things ended for Franco Fiore or how maniacal he really was. “I’m going to be fine. Thank you. Where is Gigi?”

“She’s just with Carla. She’s so worried about her and the baby.” For a second, Tasha looks chagrined as if she spoke out of line, but then she shrugs. “I bet you know all of this already.”

“It all came out yesterday while—” I break off for dramatic effect. I drop my gaze then look back up at her where she’s hovering next to the bed. “Who isIl Consiglio?” I ask, knowing this woman might give me more information with the right prodding. “I feel in debt with them for saving me.”

“Il Consiglio?” she repeats, her eyes widening. “I—I… Sorry. I’m not sure myself, actually. I met Matteo only recently, and well…it’s been a bit of a whirlwind.”

That could mean anything.

Footsteps fall, and we both look to the door where Gigi Trapani is walking in. She doesn’t stop. She comes all the way to me and then leans into the bed to wrap me in a hug. I don’t resist. I mean, how do you?

When she pulls away, tears are streaming down her face. Heavens, she looks like she’s been through the wringer, and watching the emotions pour from her tightens my throat.

“We are sisters now,” she murmurs. “You know that, right? Bound by this thing that happened. Franco is dead. He’ll never hurt you again.”

Or hurt her, by the sound of it. I bite my lip, triggered by her tears. God. When did I become this weak? Tears slip down my cheeks in a warm but quiet rush. Gigi now has my hand in hers, and I wipe at my face, embarrassed she was able to break me so easily. As she squeezes my hand and I stupidly squeeze back, I remind myself of the rules: Don’t get involved. Don’t start to care. Don’t get attached.Observe, adapt, only act when the time is right.

I’m not here to make friends. These women are married to the type I want to put behind bars. For life.

In this quiet moment, the nurse chooses to walk in with my lunch.

“Oh,” Gigi says as she gets up from where she perched with her hip and half a bum on the bed. “Is it ever a good time to visit?” she asks deprecatingly. “I have so many questions?—”

“Ariana still needs a couple of days, Gigi,” Tasha says softly.

“I don’t have days…We’re going to Italy, and then?—”

I wish I could beg her to take me with and not leave me here, at the mercy of people who’d have no use for me once the DNA tests comes through. I hate this part, this moment when you meet somebody you know you’d be best friends with if you weren’t an undercover agent in deep shit and she a Mafia kingpin’s daughter. In any other life circumstances, these two women could have been my best friends.

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