Page 45 of Runaway in the Mafia (The shadows of Cosa Nostra Chronicles #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

AHANA

O ne gunshot announcement was all it took to take down a party of a thousand guests.

Still, the family had remained. Carried on.

In hindsight, they’d probably experienced worse than a hole in the wall and a news alert.

Not Ada, though. Not me either. I had walked out of there lugging my shame. Ada had come along quietly.

On the car ride home, she’d ignored her seat belt to slip next to me.

When her arms had wrapped around my shoulders, I hadn’t known whether I would cry or sink into her arms and take the comfort she offered.

Ultimately, I did neither. I sat upright, stiff as an iron board, while she soothed my back in a rhythm that eased my chest, one stroke at a time.

She didn’t speak. I didn’t either. But when we entered her driveway, she finally broke the silence. “He’s nothing you’re used to, sì? ”

I nodded after an awkward beat. He definitely wasn’t.

“Maybe that’s why he’s good for you?” she’d murmured just as the engine had stilled.

It dawned on me that she had seen this coming.

The strange hum of excitement in her made sense when the filter of awareness was placed.

Strangely, her approval warmed the pit of my stomach, but I was too dazed to take a magnifying glass to it and observe.

Too confused to trust my course of action.

Which was why I shouldn’t have called Romeo and asked him to bring me to him.

Didn’t matter anymore. What was done was done.

He finally knew I wasn’t his, and that was going to be it.

I tried to forget the cacophony of the day once I was back in the safety of my room.

Find somewhere dark in my memories to hide this new batch of nastiness and get on with it.

But clearly, his deliriousness had rubbed off on me.

No amount of tossing and turning could put me to sleep.

The sun went down, and it came up. Hours later, a late morning heat bathed my bed.

Still, I couldn’t find the energy to pull myself up.

But when the sound of tires skidding jump started my nervous system into a gallop, I gave up all pretence of finding peace and crept to the window.

My gaze found Vitale’s black Ferrari beneath it.

It was parked criss-crossed in the driveway.

Never a good sign when a lunatic was in a hurry.

A sound brushed my back. I expected him to stand there. But when I turned, I found Ada instead at my door. My sigh was one of relief. I told myself.

“Caffè?”

For a fleeting moment, I contemplated hiding under my bed from the psycho that had entered the house in a rage.

Or climbing out the window and making a run for the wedding house.

Lia was there, and so was the rest of the family.

In numbers, I could find safety. Then I remembered the events of the past evening and how numbers had failed in front of him.

With a nod, I followed her downstairs. My chest fighting with a wrecking ball clogged in my rib cage.

The house was as it always was. Except for the rare stillness marking the absence of the maids and guards who’d shifted to Remigio’s place.

But the bricks themselves that made up the house somehow hadn’t got the memo that everything had changed.

For a second, a thought filtered through my mind whether it would have been better had Sergio taken me back to the wedding house.

But it had been filled with constant looks.

The whispering behind my back, the open jealousy from some of the women… well, it had been too much.

My bare feet were cold on the marble and, faintly, I thought I should have changed out of my camisole top and pyjama bottoms. But Ada’s rushed feet pulled me along, and I walked into the kitchen to her shocked gasp.

My eyes skimmed past her to find him seated at the table.

A cigar in one hand and a whiskey in the other.

All ordinary for him, at least. I was moving from a wife beater to a chain smoker and an alcoholic.

Drinking at nine a.m. seemed more like an acquired habit than a onetime thing.

What wasn’t ordinary was his white button down splashed in crimson…

ketchup… no... it wasn’t. My mouth popped open, and my lungs emptied of air.

All my thoughts shrivelled to the ground, sunk through the concrete, and fled the scene.

My body screamed in terror. Silently. And I stood frozen to the spot as Ada rushed forward.

“Beddra Matri. What happened?”

His eyes were black, shallow pools that were pinned to me. “Nothing, Mamma.” I was a statue. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. “Just business.”

Business.

My business involved making pretty graphics and studying algorithms. His was… please tell me it was ketchup, and he had been clumsy.

Ada rushed to the cupboards and came back with a first aid kit. She hovered beside him, worry in her eyes. “Where are you hurt?” In that instant, she gave away her love for her firstborn.

He frowned. “I’m not hurt.” He followed her gaze to his shirt like he’d just noticed it only now. “Should have worn black. The bastards always have to make a Pollock out of it.”

My breath strangled. Not ketchup.

“Well, if you’re going to go around doing that, maybe you should. I’m never going to get these stains off,” she moaned. “Take it off so I can get some brown soap on it.”

How is this my reality?

“You have more important things to do.” He stilled her hands, trying to uncuff his sleeves. “I want you to organise the wedding.”

Her gaze spun to mine. His had never left mine.

Awareness rattled through me. The buzz from his words had a permanent place inside my eardrums. Insanity was splashed all over this room.

As obvious as the crimson on his ghost white dress shirt.

Yet I was the only one who seemed to be aware of it.

My tongue was thick as I dragged words through my parchment dry mouth and uttered the obvious.

“I’m married.”

He frowned.

Ada’s gaze flew to his. “She’s still married.” But there was doubt in her voice. Like she expected it to change overnight.

“Was,” he corrected in a tone that had a finality like the hammer of a judge, thumping down.

“What?” I croaked.

“Widow now.”

I stumbled back like he’d shot me in my gut. The door to the living room caught me. My spine burned where it hit me. An icy chill reverberated through my body. I was cold and clammy inside and out. Like I’d lain in a cold cellar for days. I tried to make sense of it. He can’t mean that.

“You didn’t?” Ada asked, but she didn’t seem as mortified as I was.

“I did.”

Ada was silent. His eyes met hers finally, and something odd spilled out of him.

“You always said we were the same.” The words and the way he said them carved through my chest. In a switch of a second, I heard a little boy’s voice, searching for approval from his mamma.

It was so odd for him. So out of character.

Probably why her face shone with tears. Her hand moved to his shoulder and squeezed gently. “I was wrong.”

There was so much meaning behind those three words.

Something I couldn’t comprehend. He was quiet.

Didn’t agree or disagree. Then she said something that made even less sense to me.

“She’s the only one for you.” He nodded, and a little smile filtered on her lips.

His shoulders relaxed underneath it. What had happened?

She away the first aid kit. “I guess I’d better arrange that wedding.

” Then she turned to me with a weary look in her eyes. “Ahana—”

Vitale’s hand shot up to squeeze hers. She looked at him, and he shook his head quietly.

Her tone was filled with an inner conflict. “You’re my son, but she’s—”

“I know.” His voice was gravel.

Emotion whirled within her eyes as her gaze shifted between us. “You’ll do what’s best for her?”

A dark huff of amusement left his lips. “What do you think, Mamma?”

A beat passed, and she answered firmly. “I trust you to do it.”

There was a lightness to her steps when she headed towards me. “Mamma.” She paused. “Not months, but days. I don’t need a party to make her my wife.”

“Whatever you want, figlio mio.” She gave me no explanation. But with emotion in her eyes, she brought me to her bosom and whispered in my ears, “It’ll all be alright, figlia mia.” Then, with her kiss on my forehead, she rushed past me.

The door swung shut behind her. The mood shifted in the kitchen. The air sparked with new beginnings. Changes. An alternative reality. One that I wasn’t ready to see. He couldn’t possibly have … his eyes glinted with a murderous glare. He had.

“You going to come over and kiss your fiancé?”

I clung to the wall and shook my head slowly from left to right.

He sighed. Slow. Tired. Heavy.

“Your defiance, mia ammaliatrice, is only going to get you fucked.” He pushed off the chair and stalked over to me. A pulse beat later, my feet lifted off the floor. He carried me to the table and dropped me onto it.

The balls of his knuckles landed on the table either side of me. I looked up to find him leaning forward, boxing me in. He was a contradiction of charm and dark hallows. “Now, about that kiss,” he murmured.

My hand shot out. He stilled. His gaze fell to my palm on his chest.

“You didn’t,” I ventured.

“I did,” he confirmed.

I shook my head violently. My insides whirled with a cyclone of emotion. None of them were what I expected. “No. I will not believe you just shot—”

“Shot?” He cocked his head to one side and laughed a dark, mirthless laugh. My palm on his chest vibrated. “You think I’d make it so easy for him?”

All the blood in my body drained out of me.

“You can’t just—”

“Oh, I can. I very much can. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to have you as mine, mia ammaliatrice. You should know that by now.”

Words failed me. He grabbed my lips and pinched them closed. I hadn’t even realised they’d popped open.

“I filmed it. Do you want to see?”

Silent air left my mouth. He sighed, shook his head, and pulled my mouth close again. “Yes?” He reached for his phone in his pocket.

I clutched his hand so violently that the phone clattered to the ground.

He chuckled. A crazy, insane sound leaving his lips. “Well, if you ever change your mind—”

“You can’t marry me!” My voice was half a scream, half a sob.

It only got a tired sigh from him. “Are we back to that again?”

“I’m legally married.”

“You were. But he signed the divorce papers.” My mouth popped open again. “You know the ones you had with your lawyer already signed by you?” How had he... “Then he decided to go for a long holiday. To think about everything that had happened—”

“His parents will look for him.”

“He called them before he left. Apparently, he wanted to go on a long hiking trip to think about his actions of hurting innocent girls. I feel like he’ll fall off a cliff in about a month’s time while he’s contemplating.”

“Hey Bhagwan.”

“That sounds fucking delicious. What does it mean?”

I frowned. Confused. I answered automatically. “Oh, my God.”

“So, another name for me.”

“No!”

“Perfect. Scream it out when I fuck you.”

I wanted to scream at how unbothered he was. “I can’t believe you.”

His eyes sparked. “Let me guess? You love my planning?”

My heart beat violently when another thought entered my mind. One that should have been the first one when he’d said he’d kill—I couldn’t bring myself to think of it. “What about my family?”

He shrugged. “I thought you’d want to tell them.”

Thank God. He cupped my chin and tipped it up. “You’ll tell them. Today. Capisti?”

“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe—” I shook my head.

His gaze burned when he rested his forehead on mine.

“Believe it. You think I’d let another man touch you, fuck you with his limp dick, use you as a punchbag and not fucking shred him to pieces, limb by limb?

” His hand crawled in my hair, his lips traced mine, words trailing off them and painting mine.

“My little witch, I am insulted. You should know your fiancé better than that.”

It took me ten minutes after he stepped back and walked out to get my breathing down to a pace where I could stand up.

It took me another five to realise the weight on my finger was a sparkling row of diamonds attached to a vivid yellow stone on a thin, cold band.

Somewhere between asking me if I wanted to watch a video of him murdering the monster who’d haunted me and commanding that I marry him, he’d slipped it on my fingers.

My hands trembled like a dam about to burst as I squeezed the thin gold ring off. Inside it, there was one word inscribed.

Vitale’s.

I had a feeling he hadn’t meant the ring.