Page 38 of Broken Vows

"And if she's playing you?"

"Then we play better."

Antonio laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You sound like your mother. She always believed she could outsmart the game instead of controlling it." His expression hardens. "Look how that ended."

The comparison hits like a physical blow. My mother died because she trusted the wrong person, because she let emotion cloud her judgment. The lesson has been beaten into me since I was ten years old.

"This isn't emotion," I say, though even as the words leave my mouth, I'm not entirely sure they're true. "This is business."

"Is it?" He sets down his glass with deliberate precision. "Then you won't mind submitting to paternity verification. Medical documentation. Proof that this child is legitimate and this marriage serves our interests rather than theirs."

"Done."

"And if I decide the risk outweighs the benefit?"

I meet his stare without flinching. "Then you'll be making a mistake."

The temperature in the room drops ten degrees. Antonio's smile disappears entirely, replaced by the expression that's made grown men piss themselves in terror.

"Careful, Vincent. You're my son, but you're not irreplaceable."

"Neither are you."

The words slip out before I can stop them. For a moment, we stare at each other across the table—two predators calculating whether the other is prey or threat. Then his phone buzzes with an incoming call.

He glances at the screen, frowns. "Salvatore. This better be important." He answers with sharp Italian. "Cosa c'è?"

I watch his face change as he listens. The controlled anger gives way to something darker, more dangerous. When he hangs up, his eyes are black as coal.

"Tommaso Benedetti is dead."

The name hits me like ice water. Benedetti has been one of our most trusted captains for fifteen years. A made man who's never given us reason to doubt his loyalty.

"How?"

"Three bullets to the head, execution style. Found in his car outside a restaurant in Little Italy." Antonio's voice is flat, deadly. "With a Mastroni family crest carved into his forehead."

Fuck. I run calculations in my head, trying to process the implications. "That's too clean. Too obvious."

"You think this is a setup?"

"I think someone wants us to believe the Mastronis ordered a hit on the same day I announce my engagement to their daughter." I lean back, mind racing. "The timing is too perfect."

Antonio stands, moving to the window that overlooks his private garden. "Perhaps. Or perhaps your new bride's family is sending a message about the terms of this alliance."

"No." I'm certain of this, though I can't entirely explain why. "Max Mastroni is many things, but he's not stupid. He wouldn't order a hit that obvious unless he wanted war."

"Maybe he does want war. Maybe this marriage proposal was just a way to get us to lower our guard."

"Then why agree to it? Why not just refuse and maintain the status quo?"

Antonio turns back to me, and I see the moment he makes his decision. "Salvatore is mobilizing our crews. We hit back tonight—three Mastroni soldiers, minimum. Send a message that we don't tolerate disrespect."

"No." I stand as well, keeping my voice calm despite the urgency I feel. "Give me twenty-four hours to investigate. If this is a frame job, retaliation will start a war we're not ready for."

"And if it's not?"

"Then we respond with overwhelming force. But intelligently. Strategically." I move closer, letting him see the steel in my eyes. "You taught me that emotion is weakness. Don't let anger cloud your judgment now."