Page 19 of Hateful Vows

FIFTEEN

DANTE

E arly morning the next day, I summon Francisco and his mother.

“You called for me, Mr Ventura?”

Francisco’s voice is uncertain, and my heart clenches at the news I must deliver.

It isn’t the first time I’ve had to tell a widow she’ll be burying her husband, or one of my men that their brother has fallen.

But somehow, it hits me more with the young kid in front of me.

Maybe he reminds me of myself. He’s just a few years younger than I was when I lost Gio.

“Where’s your mother?”

“She’s waiting in the piano room, sir.”

“Go get her.”

He nods and scurries away, leaving the door wide open.

Irina passes by, and stops at the threshold.

She strikes an elegant figure in wide-legged burgundy trousers and silk black blouse.

She always looks so put together, so prim and proper.

Except when I bend her over and fuck her senseless.

I know what lies within her armour of sophistication, but I can’t entertain thoughts of my wife right now.

Her gaze turns towards the corridor, her attention on who’s coming to see me.

She glances back to me, then to my visitors again.

She’s barely made a step to disappear before she changes her trajectory and enters the office ahead of the Venti family—or what’s left of it—keeping the door open for them.

Her actions surprise me but I remain impassive.

She stands behind me, a looming presence at my back, yet my shoulders relax and it’s like she shares the weight of the news with me.

More than her acceptance of my body, this is what cements my decision to never let her go.

She’s a queen at my side, and her place is beside me.

“Mrs Venti, Francisco, thank you for coming today.” I take an inhale. It’s fire in my lungs. A gentle hand clasps my shoulder and I let the comfort of her touch anchor me. “I deeply regret to inform you of your husband and son Matteo’s passing during their duties.”

A sob follows a sharp inhale. My attention is on Francisco. He has tears mounting in his eyes and is clenching his lips shut, holding onto his mother’s hand as she starts crying in earnest. He’s trying to be strong for her. A good son. A good soldier. And a child who will grow too quickly.

I hear Irina shift behind me. The display of emotions must make her uncomfortable, yet she decided to come in, to deliver the news at the cost of her own comfort.

“Of course, you will be compensated, and you don’t have to worry about anything. We take care of our family.”

“Can I see them?” Mrs Venti asks, and I nod.

“Lorenzo will take you.”

I call my driver and awkwardly say goodbye to Mrs Venti and Francisco. When they’re gone, I fall back onto my chair with a deep sigh.

The grief threatening to overtake me isn’t for the Ventis. It simply hits too close to home, something I’d rather stay buried but I could never quite push back to the deep recesses of my mind.

Irina stands in front of me. Her hand glides against my cheek and my eyes snap open. There’s a softness to her features for the first time since she became mine. Probably ever.

“Your compassion is honourable, Dante, but the dead remain dead, no matter what.”

“Not everyone can be emotionless, vipera ,” I tell her. It doesn’t hold any animosity, but my words aren’t any less true.

She smiles softly. I’d be shocked if it weren’t so sad.

“Not everyone grew up surrounded with love, dorogoy .”

I place a hand on top of hers and kiss her palm. She lets me. “A new nickname?”

Her sad smile turns to a smirk and my heart pumps faster in my chest. “Don’t get used to it.”

She leaves, letting the clicks of her heels echo through the marble corridors of this place that feels less and less like a home. When I stand to get myself a whiskey, my steps take me to the window to the garden.

Irina stands next to Francisco, their backs are to me. They’re the same height at 5’2, and the thought of another young boy, this age, with my build and her eyes sends a tremor through my whole body.

Francisco’s shoulders are up to the ears. He seems lost in thoughts, looking over the expansive British garden my father had planted for my mother, where memories are as joyful as they can make me ache for what I no longer have.

Hesitantly, Irina places a hand on his shoulder. His head turns to her. Sobs rack his body before he launches himself at my wife and buries his head in the crook of her neck. She freezes for a beat, then her hands fall around him.

I’m not jealous of the kid. He needs it more than I do, but the longing stirring in my gut reminds me that my wife might let me touch her, but she’s never given me this level of care and attention.

I doubt she ever has anyone. Being a witness to it almost feels like an invasion of privacy.

Like I’m not meant to see her break the icy veneer.

Yet, I can’t look away. I’m greedy for everything my wife is and does.

T he next day, Irina and I receive a text from Aleksei detailing the gala we need to attend to present a unified front.

My wife has been avoiding me since she showed me a more vulnerable side and still refuses to share my bed at the penthouse. I’ll make it my mission to change her mind.

I find her hunched over her laptop in the library of my home, our home now.

The dark frame glasses give her an air of authority that stokes the fire inside my blood.

I don’t need much when it comes to her but anything remotely connected to power looks too good on her to resist. I make my way behind her, framing her body with an arm on each side.

The goosebumps rising at her neck is only one way to know she isn’t as unaffected as she’d like to pretend.

I kiss her neck and inhale deeply, the mix of her sweet skin and heady perfume enough to make me lose sight of my goal. “What are you studying so seriously, vipera ?”

She swats at me but it lacks heat and I chuckle.

“I’m looking into every family in the London Cosa Nostra.

Something you should have done the day your father got assassinated, but we both know you’re incompetent, and Tino and Lorenzo are glorified bodyguards.

I’ve already found three of your capos who embezzled money, one who owed a serious debt to your father and hasn’t made a single payment since his death, and one more who’s been visiting Ireland a little too frequently for comfort over the past few years. ”

I straighten, then take a chair to sit next to her. Any humour leaves my body as I sit down. “Show me.”

Her analysis is thorough and sends a pang of pride through me. I might have not chosen my wife but she couldn’t be a better queen.

“I would have gone deeper, especially with tracking down their movements, but let’s say I’m not on the best of terms with the Capaldis and it’s hard to access public cameras without their technology,” she says and bristles at the name.

“You have something against Capaldi?”

The cyber security genius works for both public and private entities and I’ve used his services and that of his hitman brother enough to count them as allies. Having them as enemies is not something I wish to add to my list of problems.

“Andrea’s wife, Giulia, hates me.”

“It doesn’t matter. We allied with the Morettis and Capaldis the moment we married and went against Misha Petrov.

I’ll call Andrea and have him look into the people you identified.

Well done, vipera .” I kiss her brow and I swear a blush creeps up her skin.

“Now, your brother mentioned a gala. You need a new dress. I’m taking you shopping. ”

I stand and hold my hand for her to take. Her nose crinkles like she abhors the idea of spending time with me, but too bad for her, I get a kick out of making her uncomfortable.

“I have enough dresses, Dante,” she complains.

“It wasn’t a request, vipera, ” I say. “I’m taking you to spend my money, whether you want it or not. I won’t have you wear last season’s design just because you’re too prideful.”

“You’re so vain.”

“Takes one to know one.” I bend at the waist to whisper in her ear, enjoying the catch of her breath. “If you’d rather I spank your pretty pussy for disobeying me, I’ll happily oblige, sposa mia .”

She swallows but I don’t miss the way her pupils dilate.

“So uncouth, Dante. Fine, let’s go spend your money.”

Before we get into the car, I text Aleksei to meet us. I don’t know if he’ll take the bait but my phone pings with his ETA a few seconds later. For someone so dangerous, he really is predictable.

London is too busy with tourists and civilians so I drive Irina to West Hill, a town an hour away from London's bustling energy, and Capaldi’s stronghold.

We’ll be safe in the city centre made of cobblestone pedestrian streets, flanked with boutiques and quaint cafes.

My wife deserves the best and I’ll pay whatever price to offer it to her.

Besides, Tino and Lorenzo accompany us, as well as two of our best-trained bodyguards.

It annoys me to no end to have to protect myself like this but the taunting game the person who wants me dead is playing is too dangerous to take unnecessary risks. Especially if it puts Irina’s life on the line.

She’s in the dressing room of a high-end boutique and I’m sipping champagne when the energy around us shifts. The light fixtures illuminate the space with soft glow, yet when he enters, everything takes on a darker edge. It’s more delicious than the expensive bubbles on my tongue.

I take a peek as he approaches, his hands in the pockets of his navy suit a fake nonchalance. His eyes shift to each corner of the shop, quickly analysing all entrances and exits, the number of employees and the potential threats.

They narrow at the sales assistant coming in to offer him a glass of champagne. Her hands tremble but her smile stays plastered to her face, her eyes never straying from his.