Page 14 of My Solemn Vow (The Mafia Arrangement #1)

ANTONELLA

THE TRUCE

Kelsey Clark and I are standing in the ‘safe zone’ after school, where kids wait for their pickups.

It’s a viewing area with a big picture window that allows them to watch for their ride.

And from a lifetime of being surrounded by bulletproof glass, I know it’s not a single bulletproof pane but two.

Bodyguards — in many cases, expensive ‘mannies,’ who do a lot of caring for the children of the elite — are the primary pickup and emergency contacts for the students here. I remember seeing the bodyguard type picking her up yesterday.

I take in the nervous child, who has only been in my classroom for two days. She seems to be taking her time to break out of her shell with her new classmates. Despite what Mrs. Neidermeister said, Kelsey has been nothing but respectful, most of all when talking to me.

Kelsey turns toward me, prying her eyes away from where she’s had them glued to the window. “I don’t know. Sean always picks me up, but he’s not here, and he didn’t text me that he’d be late. Do you think he’s okay?”

No. No, I don’t. The ‘danger’ warning in my brain is firing on all cylinders. I have only ever worked at elite schools like Rothschild-McClintock Magnet School, and never, not once, has a bodyguard or parent ever been late for pick up.

The rich, famous, and notorious are, in general, much more protective of their children than your regular parents. They pay through the teeth for that protection, and the paychecks for those bodyguards do not lend to one willingly being late or putting their ward’s safety on the line.

Kelsey holds her little black device out to me. The screen lights up, and I confirm there aren’t any messages or anything of that nature.

This isn’t good at all. The hair on the back of my neck, and all the way down my arms, stands on end.

“Let’s go call your family.” I give her a smile and offer her the device back. “I’m sure it’s nothing more than some traffic.”

A pit in my stomach has me wishing I had a sidearm with me. My nervousness is probably unwarranted because I’m in an elementary school. The most worrisome thing should be a pack of gum, but the call of danger singing to me says otherwise.

“Okay.” She bites her lips together.

I stand and, walking slowly, lead Kelsey to the office down the hallway from my classroom.

It’d be easier to contact someone programmed into Kelsey’s device, but protocol dictates we’re not allowed to use students’ devices. Only the admin can call the designated phone numbers in the office system.

Please let her have more than her bodyguard as a contact.

I pop the office door open, and it swings inward, nearly hitting another teacher with their student. The office is packed.

Slowly my shoulders drop, my body attempting to relax. See, traffic. There are others here with students. It’s traffic. I try to talk my inner self down from the nervousness.

Based on the number of people in here, there’s no way I’ll be able to squeeze through and get to the desk with Kelsey and her backpack. But the office’s large windows offer an unobstructed view of benches across the hallway.

Stepping back out of the office, I motion toward the bench across the way. “Have a seat, I’ll be right back.”

Kelsey sits on the bench, her little green backpack leaning against the wall. I take one last look down the hall toward my classroom, but it’s empty.

I open the door, more carefully this time, and weave around the masses to get to the second office admin who is typing on her computer. She looks busy, but no one’s standing in front of her. I turn myself to face her as best I can while keeping Kelsey in my peripheral vision.

“Ms. Mancini, what’s going on?” the school admin asks after a few moments, looking up from her desk.

“I need to call the guardians on file for Kelsey Clark. Her bodyguard hasn’t shown up yet.” I give her a soft smile.

“Oh.” The admin furrows her brow with the same uneasy suspicion bulging her eyes. “That’s odd.”

“I agree.” I look over my shoulder one more time. Should I take her back to my classroom and have admin call me with answers?

The admin dials and then begins speaking with whoever the emergency contact is, explaining the situation. She puts her finger in her opposite ear to hear over the ruckus two of the teachers are causing, laughing on the other side.

I flit my gaze to them, trying to figure out what’s so funny, and then the world fades to a dull buzz as a hand, presumably attached to a person who is standing outside the view of the window, extends toward Kelsey.

She looks hesitant to take it.

“Okay, Ms. Mancini, Grandma and Grandpa are on their way—” The admin continues beyond that statement, but my feet are already moving.

That they’re on their way is enough to know that my gut feeling is right. Whoever that is isn’t who Kelsey should be going with.

I dart out into the hall, and my heart practically comes to a stop as I see Kelsey being all but dragged down the hallway away from the office. She’s leaning back, heavily resisting.

Despite the two-inch heels I chose to wear this morning, I sprint to get in front of the man.

The man I know.

My cousin Berto.

He’s coaxing Kelsey to go with him.

My fingers clench into a fist. He didn’t let it go. He investigated her over the weekend. That bastard.

Luckily, we’re only a few feet from my classroom door, and with a quick extension of my arm, I push it open.

With a smile, masking my grimace, I instruct Kelsey, “Go ahead and play for a little bit. Your grandmother is sending someone to get you.”

Kelsey looks between us, no doubt confused because Berto told her some sort of lie. She shuffles into the classroom, and I lock the door behind her.

“Antonella.” Berto warns me, using my real first name. “Do you know who that is?”

I shake my head, not even wanting to hear what he’s planning. I lower my voice to an angry whisper despite a scared bird fluttering behind my ribs. “She’s seven. You’re not taking her.”

“That is Valor Cavanagh’s daughter.” He grits his teeth and matches my low tone. “We don’t have a lot of time. We are taking her. Gregorio is waiting. If you know what is good for you, then you won’t be here when the Cavanaghs show up.”

“This is too far, Berto,” I hiss, raising a finger sternly toward him.

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 a child .” 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 your father 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 .