Page 1 of Stolen Vows
1
STELLA
Papà thinks I’m nervous.
Given the gravity of the situation, I probably should be.
Unlike when my oldest sister, Elena, stood in a similar position just three years ago, there’s no one waiting on the other side to steal me away from this life. No one stands in the shadows, ready to slit my betrothed’s throat and whisk me to his private island, where we can live happily ever after.
My sisters don’t evenknowthis is happening. Not that they’d be able to save me if they did.
Any rescue from this situation rests solely in my hands. Or mouth, I suppose.
My tongue dips to the side, feeling for the small razor blade wrapped in athletic tape that’s hidden between my lip and gums. It’s the size of my thumbnail—not big enough to impede my speech if I’m careful, but still, a deterrent if utilized correctly.
Papà’s grip tightens on my elbow. “Chin up,coniglia. If you ruin this for me, I’ll have you shipped off to Sicily.”
This isn’t a new threat, but I still have no clue what the hell kind of atrocities await across the Atlantic Ocean. In the pasttwenty-four hours, I’ve had my plans to go to college and start a new life for myself completely uprooted, all in favor of fulfilling my father’s twisted deals—what could possibly be worse than that?
I scan the front of the nave past the rows of wooden pews, though the lights are dimmed and not much is visible. A few votive candles sit atop the altar, and a looming statue of our Blessed Mother is situated among the ornate wooden displays on the wall.
“Does my posture actually matter?” I mutter, careful to speak only from the unoccupied corner of my mouth. “He can’t even see me.”
“It’s aboutrespect. De Tore won’t hesitate to kill someone he thinks is mocking him.”
My blood runs cold at the thought. “He sounds so pleasant.”
His fingers bite into my skin, as if trying to crush bone. “Shut it, or I’ll save him the trouble and rip out your tongue now.”
He moves forward, practically dragging me down the aisle.
It feels strangely appropriate to have Mother Mary watching this unfold. Given the sacrifices she made and the trust she had in the Father, surely,shecan understand my struggle.
Of course, she wasn’t leaving one prison for another. Giving birth to the savior of the planet wasn’t an instant death sentence—it was a freedom within itself, a gift she thought she was bestowing upon the world. The entire point of the religion is to be released from the shackles of sin and an eternity of hellfire, whereas I’m simply being given to another monster by the one on my arm.
Only damnation awaits me now.
Sweat pours down my spine, seeping into the fabric of my dress. Air scarcely makes its way to my lungs as we approach a tall, broad figure shrouded in shadows. Papà’s fingers turn icy,continuing to hold me in a punishing grip even once we stop at the altar.
If I were naïve, I’d think maybe his hesitation was laced with regret. That perhaps he was capable of feeling bad for forcing me into this.
But naïveté is a luxury I’ve never been able to afford. Any regret of his comes from the knowledge that I’m his very last bargaining chip—the only daughter left at his disposal. Once he’s given me over, the former don of Ricci Inc., Boston’s once-premier crime syndicate, loses all remaining vestiges of his power.
My feet shuffle forward, my body eager to get on with things. Maybe if it happens quickly, the fear and anger coagulating in my gut like concrete won’t feel so immobilizing.
Once we’re alone, I’ll strike. That way, my chances of escaping will increase.
I tug on my arm, trying to remove it from Papà’s grasp. His hand curls, his fingernails digging into my sleeve and the skin underneath.
His jaw clenches tightly as he stares over my head. I frown, shoving at him with my hip, but still, he doesn’t budge.
“Letgo,” I snap under my breath, alarm bells chiming in my mind.
Suddenly, I’m the only thing standing between two made men, and if I’ve learned anything from being the youngest Mafia daughter, it’s that being caught in the crossfire of any war means death.
These men are ruthless. It wouldn’t surprise me if Papà went from trying to bargain with me to using me as a human shield, given what’s gone on behind the scenes with me and my sisters. Elena got the emotional hits while Ariana took the brunt of Mamma’s physical and mental abuse.
Meanwhile, I was ignored by both parents—hidden away at events because my parents hated how boring and socially inept I seemed. Sometimes, they didn’t acknowledge they had a third daughter at all.
