Page 148 of The Mafia's Broken Vows
The tension in the room breaks, and we all laugh—a welcome release from the heaviness of our conversation.
As our laughter subsides, I look at Nico, a knowing smile playing on my lips. “Now I know why you came.” My arm tightens around Addy, and she leans into me.
“We could do some fishing on the pier too, if it would make you feel like I came here for you,” Nico retorts.
“Fuck off.” I pause briefly. “Now, back to your unexpected guests,” I continue, as if the message hasn’t been received loud and clear by the relevant party. “You could make them paid employees . . . ”
As Nico and I trade increasingly ridiculous suggestions for dealing with the situation, I feel Addy shaking with silent laughter beside me. But when I look down at her, I notice the mirth doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
Her brow is slightly furrowed, and she’s biting her bottom lip—a telltale sign she’s deep in thought. She knows she’s just been offered her first assignment as a working member of the Outfit, should she choose to accept it. I can almost see the weight of responsibility settling on her shoulders, and a mix of pride and concern washes over me. Is she ready to get involved?
The rest of the evening passes in a blur of conversation and planning, but Addy’s thoughtful expression stays with me.
***
Later that night, with the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains and the distant sound of waves lapping at the shore creating a soothing backdrop, I pull Addy’s naked back flush against me and press a kiss to her temple.
“Tesoro. I can still hear the gears turning in your head. It wasn’t an order or even a suggestion. In case you wondered, it was a cry for help.”
“I get that. I just felt . . . you know . . . honored? That Nico thought I could even do this. And he didn’t have to ask me. His wife is a therapist, and she’s excellent at handling people. Contrary to what he said, I know Sophie would agree to take them on. So would many of the other Capos’ wives.”
She suddenly turns to face me, her green eyes searching mine in the dim light, narrowing with suspicion as she asks in a small voice, “Dante, did you ask Nico to be . . . you know, nicer to me?”
Dante chuckles. “I didn’t need to. I keep telling you, Nico is nice, Addy. It’s just hard to see it under all that scowling and bristling.”
“I see. Meanwhile, you’re the exact opposite,” Addy points out.
“Oh really?” I smile, tracing the curve of her cheek with my fingertips. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I’m crazy about you.”
“Good answer.” I pull her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. After a moment of comfortable silence, I add, “You’ll figure this out. You always do.”
As I lay here, feeling the calming rhythm of Addy’s breathing, inhaling the sweet vanilla scent of her hair, I’m struck by how surreal this all is. Nico and I, in my living room, casually discussing gang wars and trafficked women with Addy like it was just another Tuesday night.
Well then.
Welcome to your fucking world, Valentina De Luca.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Adele
It’s been two weeks since Nico’s unexpected visit, and I’ve spent every single morning like this—awake and watching Dante sleep while my mind races with plans and possibilities.
My gaze follows the steady rise and fall of his chest and the way his dark hair fans out on the pillow. He’s kept it long since middle school because he and Nico could pass for twins. It was his way of asserting his individuality, I suppose.
I trace the lines of his face with my eyes—the strong jaw, the straight nose, and the eyelashes I might seriously consider killing for. But that’s where the sophistication ends. He’s one of the most dangerous men alive. Because he breeds and nurtures danger.
I think of Sal, who Dante trained, becoming not just a made man, but a Capo, at twenty-four.
And me. What on earth is he turning me into?
Nothing that wasn’t already inside you.
Even in sleep, there’s an intensity about him that takes my breath away. His mind never truly rests, always working, always planning the next move. It’s part of what makes him who he is—brilliant, unpredictable, and utterly captivating.
As if sensing my gaze, Dante’s eyes flutter open. His gray irises are soft with sleep, but there’s also a glint of something primal. “See something you want to fuck, tesoro?”
