Page 23 of My Solemn Vow

I can’t let him take a child. But what do I do?

“She’s a child. A girl. Hardly matters.” He scoffs, brushing me off.

Berto moves one way, and I mirror him, keeping myself between him and the door.

“Exactly. She’s achild.” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I could smack him for being so obtuse. “She matters more than anything.”

Berto isn’t married, but he’s talked about having children a dozen times before. His ‘dream’ is to find the perfect wife and have a family. It must be easier to care about the fantasy in his head than living and breathing people.

“Think this through, Berto.” I look at the door and then meet his glare before attempting logic to override this ridiculous kidnapping. Once upon a time, before Berto spent more time with the made men than people our own age, he used to listen to me. “If you take her, what’s to stop them from doing the same to any of our younger cousins or to your children someday?”

“It wouldn’t happen,” Berto snorts and waves me off with a flick of his wrist. “It’s not even a Catholic school.”

Not even a Catholic school? God fucking help him, for he does not know he’s stupid.I fervently shake my head. “Berto. No, this is enough. Go home.”

“I’ll call my father.” He threatens me like I’ll back down if he calls the head of the family. “You’re disobeying a direct order.”

“Do it, then. It’s not even the first time in a week I’ve disobeyed him.” I call his bluff and stand my ground. “There’s no way I can let you take a seven-year-old for this war. There is a line somewhere, and this crosses it.”

Berto pulls his phone out and threatens me at normal speaking volume. “Just let me take her. This doesn’t need to be a big deal. I take her out of here like her bodyguard, and no one will know anything beyond that.”

“No.” I’m firm, raising my voice for emphasis but then trying to bring it back down, remembering where we are and who’s on the other side of the door. “You’re not taking her. Call yourfather if you think it will make a difference, but she will not be leaving with you.”

“And what will you do about it, Antonella?” he huffs, dismissing me as always.

Our eyes lock, and I know what I must do.

It’s dangerous.

It’s shameful.

For all I know... it will be the end of my life.

But if I let Berto take her, it will be the end of Kelsey’s, or I guess, Kerrianne’s, life.

The truce between the D’Medicis and Cavanaghs may be called when a member of one family raises a weapon against their own to defend a member of the feuding family.

The story, the warning, or maybe the call to a greater good, that’s been told to us from the time we’re small, echoes in my head. It’s more like a legend rather than a real thing, but I’m running out of ideas.

As firmly as I can, I threaten him. “I’ll call for the truce if you don’t leave, Berto.”

Berto shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re calling for the truce?”

He doesn’t believe I’ll do it. Do I believe I’ll do it?

“And what happens when Valor decides that his daughter, a worthless eldest child from a dead woman, is expendable?” Berto gives me a pitying frown before the more serious, threatening Berto comes back. “If they don’t accept the truce, you’re a dead woman and the kid dies anyway. Get out of my way. This is why women aren’t involved in business. Your father was a fool to let you think you could handle the work that must be done. Mind your place, Antonella.”

His words sting, and tears threaten my eyes, but I refuse to feel the sorrow they deliver.

Berto grabs my shoulders and tries to get me to move, but my feet are anchored to the ground, shoulder width apart.

He trusts me, or more likely underestimates me, too much as he puts himself within arm’s reach.

My breathing is erratic and not as steady as I want it to be, but there’s only one way forward. I put it all on the line.

It’s all too easy to reach into his suit jacket.

With shaky hands, I draw his gun from the holster under his arm.