Page 11 of Angelo's Vengeance

What on earth was she doing here?

There had only been one time when I’d actually met her in person. It had been at a fundraiser that my father insisted we all attend. My mother bought me a princess dress with gold chiffon and tiny crystals at the hem.When I moved, it looked like I sparkled. When Frankie told me she was going, we were both so excited. We snuck off behind the marble pillars at the party and spun in circles until we nearly threw up. Then Carlotta found us. I had only been six, maybe, at the time, but she looked down her nose at me and frowned as if I smelled.

The memory was seared in my brain, her bitchy words something I’d never forget.

“I should have known you couldn’t follow directions and that you’d already have dirt on your dress. I told your father we shouldn’t have brought you. You’re useless.” She’d grabbed at Frankie’s arm, holding her hard enough to bruise as she wrenched her away. Frankie sniffled as she tried hard not to cry. “And you,” she sneered. “Your nanny needs to do something with your hair. And you should be on a diet.”

I stopped mid-step, one stiletto-clad foot hovering next to the table. “Huh. Either Bassiano Torsiello got a dramatic makeover, or I just entered a scene from one of those old mafia movies. You know, the kind where the unsuspecting protagonist realizes she’s been lured into an ambush?”

Carlotta smiled, a vision of polished elegance and quiet menace, her lips curling around her teeth like a shark. “Theodosia, darling, I knew you were sharp. Come, sit. Let’s talk.” She patted the seat beside her.

Oh, Ididnot like that. Not one bit. My instincts screamed at me to turn on my heel and walk right back out, but that wasn’t my style. No, no, no—I was the kind of girl who walked straight into the fire to see if she could make it look good. It grated on me that she acted like this was normal, but I was nothing if not capable of rising to the occasion. I was not afraid of her. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing how much it grated that the designer I had admired for so long wasn’t the one who had called the meeting.

“Someone contacted my assistant about an opportunity that was too good to pass up. I didn’t expect an ‘elaborate intimidation setup.’ You could have just asked me to coffee like a normal person. I know this great place that serves an oat milk cappuccino with edible gold flakes. Super chic.” I was laying it on pretty thick, but there was no way I would give her an inch. If she were someone I liked, I’d take her for an affogato at my favoritespot, but this bitch would definitely be the oat milk sort. No affogato for her.

I slid into the chair, my movements deliberately slow. If I had to walk into the lion’s den, I would do it as if I didn’t have a care in the world. Frankie would have a fit about this, although I wasn’t sure whether I should tell her. Carlotta had run out on them decades ago, and I didn’t think that Angelo or Remo even knew where she was. Frankie certainly hadn’t kept tabs. I wondered if Carlotta knew the latest gossip about her daughter. If she knew that Frankie had discovered her biological father was a supervillain.

Carlotta let out a small sigh as if she were handling a particularly unruly child rather than a fully grown woman who had built her own underground fashion empire through sheer stubbornness and questionable decision-making skills. “This is more important than coffee, Theodosia. This is about your future … and my son’s future.”

My eyes nearly popped out of my head. Since when did she care about her children, and who was she to interfere with my life? Carlotta had washed her hands of her children years ago when she abandoned them. Itseemed a bit rich for her to pretend to care now. So, she was here about the blood oath — what was her angle? I couldn’t begin to imagine how it would benefit her if Angelo and I were hitched. What would she gain from it? I took off my glasses and folded them neatly beside the place setting, trying to control my anger.

“Oh, honey, my future involves me designing absurdly expensive clothes while sipping champagne and laughing at those who doubted me. I’m pretty sure I don’t need your help with that. I’m not certain what I do or when I do it is any of your business.”

“Since you and Angelo are dragging your feet,” Carlotta began, leaning forward, her meticulously manicured nails tapping against the rim of her untouched martini glass. “Salvatore Renzetti has decided to express an interest in you. He’s a new player in New York; maybe you’ve heard of him?” I hadn’t and couldn’t care less about ‘new players’ since I had plenty of mafiosos to keep track of. “He’s related to the Olivetos,” she added. “But he should not be trifled with.”

Well, that was anunexpectedplot twist. Thefamigliathat wouldn’t go away.

I blinked. “Salvatore Renzetti? I don’t even know who that is, Carlotta.” I put on a bored expression, but it shook me a little.

I wouldn’t admit that to her. The last thing I needed was more drama in the mafia world regarding the whole dumb marriage issue. While I might have accepted long ago the transactional nature of women in the criminal underworld, that didn’t mean I would be okay with being exchanged for another arrangement as if I were some kind of interchangeable spare part.

She nodded, her beady eyes fixed on mine. I didn’t dare look away in case she thought I was losing my nerve. “He wants you, or the connections you bring. And he always gets what he wants.”

A laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it.Oh, this was rich.“Okay, hold on—let me make sure I understand. You lured me here. InItaly,” I emphasized because it was funny to me that she’d come all this way. “You made up this whole thing with Bassimo to tell me that some mobster wants to collect me like I’m a limited-edition handbag? Don’t get me wrong —Iamlimited edition, but I don’t exactly come with a gift receipt.”

Carlotta’s expression didn’t change. “You should take this seriously. Salvatore doesn’t offer choices—he takes them away. Marriage or leverage. That’s all he sees you as. Angelo might indulge this nonsense of yours, but Salvatore won’t. This whole droll sideline you have going on? It’s got to stop. You’re getting up there in age, you know. Your usefulness is coming to an end.”

The laughter dried up in my throat. She did look serious. Carlotta Santelli had a history of knowing dangerous men and seemed to play the game somehow. Either she married them or ended up having their babies. Carlotta knew how to leverage, there was no denying that. I wasn’t ‘getting up there’ — I was only twenty-nine. There was still plenty of time for babies. Right?

There it was. The weight of those words, the ugly reality behind them. I’d been playing a game I thought I understood—flitting around Europe, building somethingmine, separate from my family’s world, Ilias and his empire of shadows. Separate from Angelo Santelli and the stupid blood oath my father had signed.

But I was wrong.

Because in the end, I was still a piece to be moved. A prize. A bargaining chip.

And Ihatedthat. I wanted nothing more in the world than to be truly loved and cherished for real, and it was soul-crushing to realize that it wouldn’t ever happen. When I was still a teen, I had big dreams. Romantic ones. Sure, they all centered around a certain someone, but even after he shattered my heart, a part of me was more pragmatic. I’d figured I’d find love— someone who could see the real me even if he couldn’t. The other part of me? Well, that other part still clung to Angelo Santelli and the love he’d never be able to reciprocate.

Then there was that fateful day of Frankie’s eighteenth birthday when we discovered the blood oath in Angelo’s office. Its weight poured over me like wet concrete. Then I reasoned that maybe Angelo wasn’t the one I’d be matched with. Perhaps I’d find love with Maxim or Conall, but I always knew somehow my fate was tied to Angelo. It was inescapable. He’d never love me the way I wanted.

I crossed my arms, the humor gone. “You do realize that the arrangement has alreadybeen made for me. I’m essentially already bought.” The words tasted bitter in my mouth.

“That’s true, I suppose, but you have a sister, don’t you?” she shrugged. “The oath didn’t specify which one.” Her expression was coy, but it was clearly malicious.

Polina, the aforementioned sister, had just celebrated her twenty-first birthday. She was delicate, made of spun sugar and dreams rather than blood and steel. As a family, we had all agreed years ago that she wasn’t cut out for any part of the criminal underworld. She wasn’t allowed around our friends, my brothers’ men, or their businesses. I never even had her near Frankie or her husband — ever. She attended a private school and then a private college. Polina was completely unaware of our world, and it would stay that way. She’d marry a dentist or something equally mundane and raise a few children in the suburbs if we had our way.

“My sister is off-limits. You know that.”

My brothers would kill anyone who tried to push Polina into anything. I would help. I wouldn’t fight the blood oath forever. I might run, but I knew better than to believe the Anthakos family could decline politely. Thatjust wasn’t done in the world we inhabited. Blood promises anchored the underbelly of the criminal world. If your family signed in blood, your word meant something, and other families would hold you to it. With so few rules, they had to be followed. It was brutal, but I understood. So, if I didn’t follow through, then Polina really would be on the hook, and I’d never do that. “And what do you hope to gain from this, Carlotta? Because I don’t believe for a second that you’re just here out of the goodness of your heart.” If there was one thing I knew for sure, it was that she wasn’t here for my benefit or Angelo’s.

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