Page 11 of Stolen Vows
The Demon of Boston is unraveling because of me, and I find myself wanting to see his threads lying in a pile at my feet.
But before we can continue, a sharp voice cuts through the night air.
“Didn’t I teach you better than to fuck your whores in public?”
Leo’s hand falls away from my pussy, and it’s alarming how much I miss the pressure.
He swallows audibly, but he keeps his forehead against mine as he answers. “Can’t you wait in the car, like I asked?”
I can’t see the intruder, but I hear his feet shuffle to a stop somewhere behind my husband’s massive body.
“Forgive me for coming to see what the hell was taking my son so goddamn long. Collecting a debt and disposing of a body shouldn’t take longer than an hour, max.”
Leo’s jaw clenches. He smooths his gloved thumb over my chin. “I’ve been occupied.”
“Which leads me back to my original question: Do I need to step in because you’re too incompetent to take care of shit?” There’s a pause, and then the voice edges closer. “Who’ve you got back there anyway? You know I hate when you hide your pretty little toys from me.”
My eyes widen at the nasty words, unease creasing my mouth, but Leo just shakes his head.
“Don’t worry,” he mutters, pressing one last kiss to my lips before pulling away completely.
He steps aside and turns to face the other man. Halfway between us and the church stands an older version of him with graying dark hair cut very short, wearing a loose-fitting designer suit. His right hand clutches a black cane.
Beside him is the pushy guard from before, though he lacks the ice pack he was instructed to retrieve.
I glare at him.Tattletale rat.
The man—presumably Leo’s father—glances at me, and his eyebrows hike up to his hairline as he lets out a string of Italian. I don’t know the language, but I can tell they’re expletives.
“Leopoldo.”
“Father.”
“What the hell are you doing with Don Ricci’s daughter?”
“Wife.” Leo leans back against the brick wall and shoves his hands in his pants pockets.
His father blinks. “Excuse me?”
“Stella is nothis daughter.” A shiver runs down my arms at the finality in his tone. “She’s my wife.”
6
LEO
“Normally, when a dontakes a wife, she’s been thoroughly vetted by hisconsigliereor the Commission.” Uncle Gino sits on the arm of my father’s chair and crosses a leg. “I don’t recall you running the Riccis by anyone when you left this afternoon.”
I lean back against the sofa in the center of my living room and throw my arms across the top. Through the condo’s massive wall of windows, the Boston skyline glitters against the stars, and I can’t help wondering where Stella is right now. After leaving the church, I sent her home with a guard to retrieve a bag of her things, and she still hasn’t arrived.
Can’t say I enjoy the waiting.
Shaking my head, I tear my gaze from the city and level my uncle with a look. “Well, I’m not the don, am I?”
“Ti sei rincoglionito?” my father demands, slamming his fist on his knee. He’s seated on the edge of an armchair across the glass coffee table from me, anger sparking from him like invisible flames. “If I wanted to fraternize with the enemy, I’d take a trip to the goddamn Orsinis.”
I cock my head at him. “You’d be dead before you even stepped foot in Corsica. Besides, Stella isn’t the enemy. She’s barely even a pawn.”
“Your infatuation with her has always been a fucking problem,” my father grumbles, leaning forward to stamp out the cigar he hasn’t smoked since entering my home. “I should’ve known it wouldn’t pair well with your impulsivity.”
