Page 10 of Sinner's Vows

I watch the men’s quiet movements as they smoke in silence, the two cigarette tips glowing in the dark, almost hypnotic. They’re waiting…for what? To hear me plead for my life? Probably. They’d like that. Assholes.

“Nineteen days, Ariana,” Franco says eventually. “And now, we’re at a crossroads.”

“Fuck,” Vincenzo says with a laugh. “So long? You’re such a fucking psycho.”

“That I am,” Franco says, his eyes blazing into mine.

“Just kill her already. There’ll benobodyto contest you. No surprises out of the middle of nowhere.”

Franco just grunts then passes Vincenzo his cigarette, which has almost burned to the end. “Hold this.”

He pulls his own packet from his pocket and lights another two cigarettes and then leans into me.

“This is what’s going to happen, Ariana. Tomorrow is Friday, and we’ll be in Lake Como. This weekend, I’m marrying Gigi Trapani. Once I have the Trapani fortune in hand, you’ll really be obsolete. For old time’s sake, you get to live a couple more days until I’ve sealed the deal.”

I swallow down the nausea that comes with his cigarette breath in my face, at his creepy closeness and the very threat he poses.

Money. Franco’s quiet obsession. Money and power at all costs. Ambition is one thing. Ambition is planned, calculated, acted on with precision. Ambition, anybody can respect. Greed, on the other hand, is another beast altogether. Greed makes people do stupid things.

Marrying Gigi Trapani for her money sounds like a sudden, greedy move, unless he disposes of her, too, which is probably his long-term plan. Here’s the problem, though—you don’t kill the daughter of one of the oldest Mafia families in Italy without retaliation. Unless he wipes out the whole Trapani family including Vincenzo in one go. But these two appear to be more than Mafioso messing around—they look like they’re best friends. Friends who share everything. Ambition, money, women…. I can’t wait for all of this to go sour.

Greed is going to be Franco Fiore’s downfall, and I already feel cheated. First, someone kills Randazzo and denies me the pleasure of doing so myself. Now, I’m going to be dead before Franco Fiore meets his match. It will serve him right to find a knife in his neck one morning, compliments of Don Trapani. No chance in hell Don Trapani would allow his son to match his daughter with this psycho.

Franco’s next action is so swift, I hardly have time to breathe. He fists me by the hair, and I yelp in pain as he twists the dirty strands tight. I reach up for his hands, but it only exposes a sliver of skin between my panties and T-shirt.

“Until then—” he whispers, his sickly breath ghosting my skin as he traps my legs with one of his, “—and to save myself some time, let’s count together. This is for today. And Friday.”

I gasp as he kills the glowing tips of the two fresh cigarettes on my body, the sound strangling somewhere between my throat and my lips, the burn too intense for me to keep completely quiet. I want to push him away, but Vincenzo holds me in place, his hand circling my wrists where I’m yanking at Franco’s grip on my hair.

Franco holds out his hand for his other cigarette which Vincenzo passes to him. “Saturday.”

I hiss at the sudden and intense burn, right next to the other ones which still glow with pain.

“And Sunday.”

The fourth and final cigarette burn. Tears seep from my eyes as my chest heaves with sobs I contain in a death grip in my throat. I will not cry openly. I will not let go in front of these men.

“Seems she’s lost her voice. No nagging,” Vincenzo says as he lets go of my hands. He picks up the torch, shining the light on my side. “Good job, Franco.”

They smirk at each other, and I could vomit except the only thing that will come up is bile.

“Not my best work, but she’s been a good canvas to play on.”

Franco lets go of my hair and steps away, and before I can even orientate myself, the men are gone. I’m hulled in darkness again, slowly trying to calm down with each sound that bangs farther and farther away.

Time slips past as I let the pain, the radiating, pulsing burning take over, and I just exist there in the dark, forcing myself to breathe slow and deeply. I reach for the latest addition of theartFranco has created on my skin. I’m hurting everywhere he’s been. It will be over soon.

By Monday, I’ll be dead.

5

DOMINIC

Ever since Gigi and Carla Trapani flew in from Italy without warning, I’ve been on high alert. I’m always tense and overcautious, but something in their arrival triggered a new layer of worry in me.

Two Italian Mafia princesses running away all the way to the States isn’t normal, butthis.Thisisn’t normal. Here’s Matteo married to Tasha Armstrong of all women, and now Stephano is falling like a brick for Gigi Trapani. This marriage they’ve entered into is a farce, but I can read my younger brother like a book. He’s trying his best not to develop feelings for her, but soon I’m going to have two brothers telling me all they want to do isfuck their wives.

Women. They are nothing but distractions.

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