Page 16 of Vicious Vows

“Of course.” Marchello nodded. “I’ll have my men knock when it’s time to take you home.”

“I’m not leaving without Lissia,” my mother said.

“Mom.” I pointed to the other room. “Give me a minute and then I’ll explain everything.”

“You better.” She stormed into the other room. “Worrying me like that. Running off with a hot, dangerous mafia boss.”

“Ma!” I looked at Marchello. “Sorry.”

“She’s not wrong.”

“You did this for me? You brought my mother here.”

The enormity of the situation hit me all at once. He didn’t have to do this for me. That was out of character for him. Wasn’t it?

“I wanted you to have a chance to visit with her before we left for Florida.”

“That’s what you said I couldn’t tell anyone.”

“You can’t tell her,” he said, his voice lowered. “Do you understand?”

“I won’t.” He had my word. As much as I wanted to tell my mother everything, I wouldn’t betray Marchello.

“Have a good visit.” He placed his palm on my cheek. “There’s a pitcher of mimosas and a platter of fruit and cheese in the mini-fridge behind the bar.”

“Thank you.” I gently kissed him, taking his hands in mine. “Everything is going to be okay.”

“When you say it, I almost believe it.” He pressed his lips to mine, taking his time kissing me. “I want to believe it.”

The slow, soft action ignited a burning passion deep within my soul.

“Lissia!” my mother screeched.

“I’m coming.” I rolled my eyes and let go of his hands. “Thank you.”

“Have a good visit.” He turned and opened the door, nodding into the entryway to the two large and scary men standing there. “They will be right out here if you need anything.”

“Hi guys.” I smiled at them.

They didn’t acknowledge me as Marchello joined them. They must have gotten word that I was a flight risk.

“Tough crowd.” I shut the door behind Marchello and took a deep breath, preparing myself for my mother’s interrogation.

When I entered the room, she was gazing out at the Manhattan skyline. I couldn’t believe she was here.

“Trouble always seems to find you, doesn’t it?” She didn’t look at me. “Marchello Accetti?”

“Mom, before you say anything, I want you to know I’m not a prisoner. I agreed to stay here with him, but I’m free to go if I choose to.” I took a breath. “I don’t choose to.”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

“What?” I ran my hand through my hair.

“You heard me.”

“Do you want a mimosa?” I needed a drink for this conversation. “We have snacks too.”

I went behind the bar and took out the pitcher and the fruit platter from the refrigerator. As I set them on the counter, she sat across from me. I grabbed two flutes from underneath the bar, then poured drinks into the glasses.

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