Page 43 of Veil of Vengeance

I need to get away before I do something that will completely ruin my plans. I can’t let some girl stand in the way of avenging my Pop, no matter how much I desire her.

With frustration burning through my chest, I comb my hair as I dry it and throw on some comfortable clothes.

Grabbing my papers off the coffee table and dropping onto my couch, I sift through them. I lean back and try to focus on what’s in front of me, but all I can think of is Valentina. Gritting my teeth, I throw the stack of papers back onto the coffee table and run my hands through my hair. My phone rings from the inside pocket of the suit jacket that I’d placed on the couch next to me.

A smirk threatens to break out on my face as I see that a Chicago number is calling.

“I didn’t expect a call this early after our last one,” I taunt as I answer after the third ring.

“This is Diletta Moretti. I want to speak to my daughter.”

My lips curl at the idiocy of Alvize Moretti to have his wife beg for him. I thought the Outfit prided themselves for their so-called honor.

“No,” I reply sharply.

“I beg of you, my husband doesn’t know I called you. I just want to speak to my daughter. I don’t want to have called you all for nothing.”

Desperation reeks from her voice. And the fact that she has called me behind her husband's back is definitely interesting.

“You only will speak with her for a minute, no less and definitely no more.”

“Yes, yes, thank you.” She’s whispering now, which probably means that someone might be near.

I tell her to wait a moment as I head down the stairs. My Mom, my aunt, Valentina, and my sister are still sitting on the bench outside. Making my way across the garden, passing the pool, Valentina is the one to first spot me, but then my Mom does and so does the rest. Matteo and Lucio are nowhere to be found, hopefully not doing something they shouldn’t be. I stop beside the bench.

“You, up.” Without saying another word, I turn back toward the house. The sound of footsteps echo as she walks across the tiled area of the pool to follow me. Once we reach the living room, I turn around abruptly, which causes her to bump into my chest. I grab her elbow to steady her, and she tilts her head up to look at me. I grit my teeth and let go of her, taking a couple of steps back.

“Here.” I extend my arm for her to grab the phone, but she just stares at me, eyes wide. Snapping my finger in front of her face, she scowls at me before snatching the phone.

“Hello?” Her voice is soft and full of confusion, but her eyes throw daggers at me. I raise an eyebrow at her, but she isn’t looking at me anymore.

“Mom, how have you been? I miss you. No, I’m fine, as fine as a person held against their will can be.” Her voice has taken a different edge to it.

“Has Dad…” She pauses, looking at me.

“Mom, I’m not in New York anymo-” I snatch the phone out of her hand before she can finish her sentence and end the call.

Her eyes narrow at me. “I wasn’t done,” she says, as my face remains closed off.

“I don’t give a fuck if you weren’t done. Your dear Mom was only promised a minute. That’s all you get.”

She stares at me, jaw locked and eyes narrowed. I should leave before I do something I really shouldn’t.

Before I do the correct thing and leave, I make the fucking mistake of letting my eyes trail down her petite frame. Fuck me thirty ways till Sunday. She is something to behold. She’s wearing a red maxi dress with a black cardigan on top to keep her warm and her dark hair is swooped to the side, reaching her hip. When my eyes make their way back up, I can see that she is so flushed she nearly resembles the beetroots I grow every year.

“Why are you such an asshole?” Her lips curl as she tries to land an insult.

“Is that the best you could do? How disappointing.” My eyes narrow as she steps closer.

“I suggest you sleep with one eye open because a man like you must piss off a lot of people.”

Her bright eyes and pink cheeks make me wonder how she would look if I fuck her.

I clench my jaw and do what I should have done after I ended that call and walk away. On my way to my room, I decide to call the family pilot and tell him to get ready because I’m flying back to New York. I need to leave; this whole thing is fucking with my head. Besides, I have a meeting with that asshole Stefano.

Once I reach my room, I grab the papers off my coffee table and stuff them into one of my bags. I collect anything else that I’ll need in New York for the week before calling Romiro.

“I’m going to kill you if you’re calling me to go to the airport,” he says, and I release a sigh.

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