Page 66 of My Solemn Vow (The Mafia Arrangement #1)

ANTONELLA

THE EVIDENCE

I’ve feared for my life before in shoot-outs and drive-bys.

I’ve had a chill run down my spine as I’ve felt stalked while walking home at night.

But nothing compares to the spiked back of the chair cutting into my flesh.

It’s pierced my blouse in several places, and I can feel blood running from my shoulders down my back.

Valor’s accusations, the pleading, the way he said ‘I love you’ as he put the knife he just cut me with in my lap. He could have cut me deeper. I’ve seen him do so much worse.

The cuts burn but not as intensely as Valor’s eyes as he waits for something — anything — but he doesn’t even seem to know what it is. That’s what doesn’t make sense.

He steps back away from the chair. The warmth of his fingers as they brush against mine. Furrowed brows and hard-set lips. Valor looks over my head at his uncle and father as they approach. Their footsteps, loafers, step lightly across the solid floor.

Neil Cavanagh purposefully doesn’t look at me as he drops a stack of papers on the table. He’s smug, disgustingly smirking at Valor like he’s figured out some dirty little secret. Like the cat who caught the canary.

Whatever Neil thinks he has will be a lie. You don’t bite the hand that feeds you. You don’t pick on the biggest kid on the playground unless you can win the fight. And you don’t double-cross when you’ve already crossed enemy lines once.

But I don’t know that guilt or innocence matters in this room.

I admired Valor’s secret lair before. The way it was a fortress of solitude from the outside world. Now the feeling of being trapped, knowing that this is where I’ll die, I understand the pain of those who have been here before me.

Yet up in the light of day, when the sun rises tomorrow, life will go on.

Hopefully they won’t tell Kerrianne I left her. I didn’t want to go. I’m not guilty of whatever they think I did, but hopefully they’ll give her closure.

I draw a fortifying breath as the second-in-command of the Irish Mob holds up a picture, and he begins like he’s starting a perverted story time. “Here we have little Miss D’Medici sitting at a restaurant. Or should I say ‘ristorante’?”

As he continues with the show, he flicks to the next picture and it’s zoomed out farther, so the gold letters on the red trim of the restaurant are visible, and you can still tell it’s me.

“She’s at La Fatal Piedra, which, as we all know, is the preferred spot for Don D’Medici to do business.” Before I can interject, Neil goes back to the first one and points to my hand. “Look at her wedding ring glistening in the light. So, we know this was recent.”

This is clearly an attempt — a poor one at that — to frame me going to an Italian restaurant as evidence of the outing being somehow related to my family. But why? Given the clothes I’m wearing in the photo, I immediately know what day it is .

I open my mouth to object but close it again, thinking better of the situation.

What the hell is Neil up to, or does he just have bad information?

“Get to the point,” Valor growls, not disclosing to Neil that it was just yesterday that I was there. Not even disclosing that Valor had also been in D’Medici territory yesterday.

“Shhh, Valor. Let an old man tell you how your wife betrayed us. How she’s the one who already broke the truce like she forgot it’s her life on the line.” He scoffs and points. “Look at how she points to something on the paper, showing it to... oh, who is that? It’s her cousin, isn’t it?”

This time he asks me, and I answer because this proves nothing. “My third cousin, Humberto. He’s studying here for the semester from Italy and works as a waiter in that restaurant. I’m asking a question about the —”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Neil cuts me off. “But look and see, there are four place settings at this table, and, oh, who is that?” He holds up another picture. This one is of Gregorio, Eduardo, and Berto entering the building.

But the photos can’t possibly be from the same day or the same time. I know they weren’t there. It’s why I picked La Fatal Piedra. Because it would be safe, not crowded, and the heads of the family are in Italy.

Valor turns to face me, his eyes narrowed.

Immediately I start talking. “That’s not the same day, and if it is, then it’s not the same time. The D’Medicis are in Italy. Leticia stayed behind to get the house ready for Christmas, it’s why we could do lunch and shopping yesterday.”

“Likely story, Miss D’Medici.” He clicks his tongue.

I want to correct him. I want to take ownership of being a Cavanagh, but it feels too heavy.

Neil puts the photos down and grabs the knife out of my lap. I force myself to stay still as the blade bites into my skin.

“Tell us what you told Gregorio and Eduardo,” Neil snarls but then draws back. “Tell us what you told them, and maybe Valor will kill you quickly.”

I plead to Valor and then to Ian. “You can check the cameras at the restaurant. I’ll convince Nonna Farinelli to share them with you. I have nothing to hide. Leticia has nothing to hide. I think she likes her father even less than I do.”

Neil pulls the blade along my skin under my jaw with more pressure than Valor used earlier, but I don’t know how deep he cuts. It hurts like hell though. I struggle, trying to raise my hands to push him away, defend myself, or stop the bleeding. Anything.

“Get her phone,” Ian commands.

He’s the least cold of the three but as equally calculating.

Valor is darkness. For a moment, it had disappeared when he told me he loved me.

I had hope that he’d hear me or be on my side. That whatever was happening between us would be strong enough. He told me he loved me. I guess I wasn’t clear when I prayed for his love.

Valor moves, not quickly, but he does go, leaving the heavy, soundproofed door open behind him, Kerrianne asleep upstairs in her bed. Please, God, be merciful and don’t let her wake.

“We should just kill her and get this out of the way. Your son is clearly soft for her.” Neil postures.

He pulls the knife down the side of my throat, and it’s not as deep as the cut under my chin, but it stings, bringing tears to my eyes.

No. No. No. He’s a bully like Gregorio. We don’t let them win.

“Not until we see the whole picture. If she’s guilty, then Valor gets to kill her himself.” Ian’s use of the word ‘if’ sends a flutter of hope through me.

Maybe I won’t die after all. But blood runs down my neck and soaks my blouse, and it scares me. I force myself to focus on steadying my breathing.

Valor comes back with my phone in his hand and his eyes on the screen. He’s unlocked it and is flipping through it. He puts it on the table and pulls out his phone.

Ian and Valor start comparing information from just yesterday.

“She went to some shops first and then went to La Fatal Piedra.” Ian defends me.

Valor starts, “There’s Kerrianne at home and then La Fatal Piedra.”

Immediately I jump in. “I would never take Kerrianne to meet with Gregorio. First, because he hates children, and second, the family is old school. Women are not to be part of business, and he barely tolerates me. A female child? They would never.”

“And yet, you were the one who called the truce.” Neil chides. “To protect, Kerrianne.”

“Anyone of age could call the truce. That’s been the rule since it was implemented. Anyone can call the truce so long as they’re willing to put their life on the line for it to be upheld. I did. I was willing to put my life on the line to protect —”

“Enough!” Neil moves forward, thrusting the knife into my stomach.

A scream flies from my lips with the impact, and I try not to pass out. The pain rips through my body, causing the world to flutter in and out of focus. I try to lock my eyes on something to tether me to this world. All my brain can do is focus on Valor.

He pulls Neil away from me, but not before Neil turns the blade. I scream until my lungs give out, until the darkness threatens to take me under, and I wish that maybe it would. They’re going to kill me anyway. Maybe it’s easier if I die now.

“She could have met with her uncles before Kerrianne got there. Look! She’s clearly conspiring with the waiter. Her uncles sat at a different table. Passing messages is plausible.” Neil argues with something that Valor says.

“They weren’t there,” I murmur, fighting for my life and consciousness.

I should hold pressure on the wound. I can’t move my arms. “I knew Gregorio and his consigliere wouldn’t be.

Talked to Leticia. Italy... for a purchase.

Ev-every y-year before Christmas.” I focus, trying to get my words to form.

“Berto. He went this year too. Some... thing... about earning it.”

“When?” Valor is in front of me.

I didn’t see him move. His greenish-brownish-glowing eyes are piercing me. His thumb sliding up and down along the side of the blade.

“They left?” I can’t focus. My brain is foggy. “Wednesday? Tuesday? Leticia texted me. Francesca redecorating my room.”

I swallow, my mouth dry but my palms sweaty.

Valor steps back from me, and I whimper.

A moment of clarity strikes me harder than the pain in my gut does. Logic. “Declan. He sat at the bar. If Gregorio D’Medici was there... ask him.”

Ian pulls out his phone and dials Kerrianne’s bodyguard. My head throbs in the seconds between rings.

It goes to voicemail. A simple message of his phone number is read out by an automated woman’s voice.

Valor pulls out his phone as the silence ticks by for a fraction of a second.

Neil distracts him, pushing on. “If it wasn’t for whatever she told them, my Gavin would be alive.”

“What?” I gasp. The sharp inhale sends a stab of pain through my stomach, but I study, try to study, the men. The shock sends my heart beating faster. “Gavin is dead?”

Valor turns to look between his uncle and father, shaking his head in disbelief. Ian nods in confirmation.

“Don’t look surprised, Miss. D’Medici,” Neil sneers.

I know my grip on reality is slipping, but he doesn’t look like a man grieving. There is no sadness with the hatred. It’s not well contained mourning or shock. Psychopath story time. Party of one .

I just know it. I’ve seen enough loss in life to know that it’s not right.

“You killed him.”

The words come out before I mean to say them, before the implication of saying them crosses my mind.

“You’re accusing me of killing my own son,” he deadpans.

“Did you?” Ian asks.

Neil spins and looks at his brother. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I kill my son?”

“Royal?” I ask.

I keep trying to find the man I loved through logic and questioning.

He wouldn’t hurt me like this. I draw a breath, but it’s hard to get air in, the wound in my stomach not letting my chest expand.

Everything hurts, but lack of oxygen makes me lightheaded, and I forget the pain.

“Order of succession... followseldest. Kill Ian... family head to Valor. Kill Royal... Neil’s son second in. .. consigliere.”

Valor nods, understanding what I’m saying. “Kill Gavin, frame the D’Medicis to break the truce. I would put myself on the line for my daughter. You and I would be out of the way without Royal to —”

Ian starts dialing his phone.

“That’s preposterous,” Neil growls. It’s feral.

Scary. But I can’t be scared. You can’t be scared when you’re not alive.

“Sacrifice.” Spots dot the edge of my vision, but I force myself to stay awake through it. “Gavin is youngest. I bet... you have an heir.”

Royal doesn’t answer his phone.

Valor slams Neil up against the wall. Metal rattles and clanks, but if I try to turn my head, the pain in my neck gets worse.

At least Kerrianne is safe. The truce holds .

I’m fading in and out of consciousness.

The world bustles around me, and I try to speak. “Make it look like an accident.”

I don’t know what the world hears, but I feel nothingness.