Page 8 of Forgive Me, Father

Nico never left my side as I clutched onto his arm.We walked up the stairs.

“Be yourself.And tell him your story but know this is only a business contract.”

I nodded and took a deep breath.

We reached the top, and he walked us to a set of double doors that were on the second level.

He knocked on one, and a deep voice that sent tremors through my body instructed him to enter.

Nico opened the door, and I followed him inside.

He spoke immediately in Italian, the words smooth and commanding.I looked up and froze.

Staring back at me were the most striking green eyes I’d ever seen, sharp and mesmerizing, framed by a tousled mop of inky-black hair that fell carelessly across his forehead.

His beard was meticulously groomed, the mustache precisely trimmed just above lips that looked far too inviting.The man sitting at the desk was was a giant, but that wasn’t what stole the air from my lungs.

Below his right eye was a number one, meaning he was part of the Dons, and he was extremely dangerous, because that one was only given to Dons who had killed 100 men or more.

FOUR

THE WHITE RABBIT

“So,Nico tells me that you’re in the same predicament?”I inquired, as she simply stared at me.I knew what I looked like.The tattoo on my face was a bit scary, but if she could look beneath it, she might find my soft side.The little I owned.

“Sorry, I don’t speak Italian,” she said softly.

I looked at Nico.I was sure he’d told me that he’d gotten a feeling that she was part of the Dons.

“I never learned the language, or more like I tried, and it never took.”Her explanation drew my attention back to her.

I switched over to English.I had to say, she was gorgeous.Even with her face smeared with running mascara, she was fucking beautiful.She had this long chestnut hair that glistened, and her messy curls were practically begging me to grab her and fuck her mouth.

I rose from the chair behind my desk, slow and deliberate, and stepped around to the front, closing the distance, just enough to unsettle, not enough to scare.

“What is your name?”

“Camilla Santore.”

Santore?It was a real Italian name.

Nico glanced up from his phone, the glow of the screen still casting a glowing hue on his shirt.I knew that look.He was already digging into her family’s background.

When he gave a subtle nod, it confirmed what I suspected.She was connected to the Dons.Definitely not in the inner circle or close to it, but still enough to matter.

“What happened?”I questioned, planting my ass on the desk behind me.

She glanced nervously around the room, her fingers fidgeting in a silent rhythm of unease.The delicate fabric of her wedding dress was slightly creased, a subtle sign of the chaos she’d endured, but even so, it clung to her with quiet elegance, still breathtaking despite the strain.

“I found my would-be groom fucking one of my bridesmaids.My best friend.”Her voice broke on the last part.

“You ran away?”

“I’m not sure why I ran, to be honest.There’s no way out of a betrothal.”Her voice lowered.“I know the markings on your face.I know what that one beneath your left eye means.”

“Do you love him?”I asked, ignoring her remark about my tattoo.

Her left eye twitches.“I thought I did.But betrayal has a way of killing such feelings with a finality.”

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