Page 18 of Veiled Vows

“Now hold on one second.” My father bristles and straightens up like a peacock readying to present his feathers. “Whatever makes you think thatyouwill be absorbing us? You’ll be handing back everything you took from us, and then I expect you to fall in line.”

“Like hell we will,” Santino snaps. “You will finally get knocked down a peg or two and remain under the Gatti empire like you belong.”

“Empire?” Enzo scoffs dryly. “Don’t make me laugh. You barely have two coins to rub together for warmth. You have nothing to offer me, and there’s no marriage without my daughter.”

As quickly as calm was created, it immediately begins to tear itself apart. It would be the natural way this conversation would go if not for the fact that Theresa stands nearby with one eye fixed upon our group. This doesn’t work if she doesn’t believe it, after all, we’re supposed to beendingthis problem so we don’t draw attention to ourselves. Roman seems to be on the same wavelength as me because the second I lock eyes with him, he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close.

“Listen,” he says loudly. “There will be teething problems, as to be expected when two great organizations come together. But the important thing to realize is that all of this?” He waves one hand between the group. “All this bad blood and anger will bea thing of the past after the wedding. This marriage is going to create a union to be reckoned with. No one will even dare mess with us after that.”

“Exactly.” I force my brightest smile. “It’ll be hard for all of us, but with the two of you hashing things out, this feud will be a thing of the past in no time.”

“They’re goingto kill each other,” I groan to myself, studying my reflection in the mirror as the glass slowly steams up with heat from my bath. “I’ve dragged us away from one risk of death and shoved us right toward another.”

It made sense at the time. Perfect sense actually. Was it because of Roman and how he got my blood pumping by dragging me into that closet and blocking me in with his body? Did it make me lose all sense of strategic thought?

No. The marriage, as fake as it is, is a good thing. The Mancinis don’t mess around, and if they’ve decided we’re all too much trouble then they’ll waste no time in killing us. Ending this ridiculous war between our families—at least on the surface—is the only way to keep everyone I care about safe and give me the freedom to pursue what I still want.

Power. And my mystery man.

Roman has to be in the same boat though. He didn’t offer much in the way of reasoning, but it’s clear he has his own motives for making sure his family doesn’t end up just another smear under a Mancini boot.

This sham marriage is a good thing. Assuming we can keep Enzo and Santino from killing each other long enough for it to become binding. My father, oddly enough, had no qualms about claiming credit for the idea on the drive home and even tried tosuggest that this had been his plan all along. That he’d merely beenguidingme toward making such a good decision.

He’s blinded by the realization that he’ll be able to justtakehis weapon shipping lanes back and will no longer have to spill blood for them. Assuming Santino sees the benefit of us working together.

I’m happy to let him think that for now. It makes him happy, and if he’s happy, Mother is happy.

The pipes in the wall give a familiar clunk as I turn off the taps, run my fingers through some of the warm bubbles, and then strip off that too-tight dress. As much as I love dressing up, nothing beats the insane relief of being able to breathe freely once all that tight clothing is gone. I feel like my boobs have lost their shape after being squashed up for hours in a bodice far too rigid for comfort. Groaning, every muscle in my body complains and then relaxes as I ease myself down into the hot water and submerge myself in bubbles right up to my neck.

Utter bliss.

Parties and weddings and high families and threats of assassination—it all melts away with every passing second in the blissful heat of my bath. Closing my eyes, I rest my head back and let my thoughts wander.

The night could have been perfect. My mystery masked man could have turned up after hearing that I was about to be taken off the market and whisked me away to wherever he’s been hiding for the past eleven years. He’d cup my face with his hand and tell me he’s sorry for taking so long to come back to me, and then he’d make love to me under the stars while promising to never leave me ever again.

I’d make him promise for every kiss I laid over those gorgeous tattoos covering his arms.

The thought of him causes my core to tighten, but just as my fingertips glide south down my abdomen, Siri ruins the mood.

“Incoming call from Roman.”

How did his number get on my phone?

“Accept,” I groan, opening my eyes and staring up at the swirling blue ceiling tiles. The call connects. “Hello?”

“Jasmine?”

“How the hell did your number get on my phone?”

“Is that any way to talk to your fiancé?” The smirk in his voice is infuriating.

“You’re not my real fiancé but whatever, I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait!”

“What?”

“I wanted to ask you something.”

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