SILENT VOWS

30

“You shouldn’t be alone in the dark with a man you hardly know.” His voice had gone guttural, raw and wanting. The sound tugged at the deep ache he’d stirred between my legs.

“Will you give me that same warning on our wedding night? I doubt we’ll know each other any better by then.” I wanted to sound formidable, but every word was more breathless than the last.

His answering look was positively savage. “When I can smell your p***y dripping with need? I don’t think so. Now get back inside before I decide to take what’s already mine.”

His filthy words grated against my skin and heated me from the inside out. I’d never heard someone speak to me with such crude irreverence, and I was ashamed of how desperate I was for more.

I whirled away from the wall and scurried back to the front entrance. When I opened the giant metal door, my mind a cyclone of emotions, I stuttered to a stop at the sight of Sante. He stood in the entry frozen mid step, his narrowed glare sliding from me to a spot over my shoulder. A quick glance confirmed it was Conner’s retreating form in the distance that had stoked my brother’s temper. I slammed the door shut and hurried over to him, tugging him into the living room where I had a pen and paper.

He just wanted to ask me a quick question, and you were busy with Umberto. I explained, my words almost illegible after rushing to get them on paper.

“You shouldn’t have been outside with him alone, Noemi. Especially considering how you’re dressed. Jesus, what if he’d hurt you?” His teen emotions and protective instincts quickly brewed a storm inside him.

He’ll be my husband in just over a week. I pointed out with a surge of anger, then chided myself. I needed to defuse the situation, not pick a fight.

“Yeah, and if he took advantage of you, then backed out of the arrangement—what then?”

I wanted to rage at him that if he thought Conner was such a creep, he shouldn’t sit by while Dad married me off to the man. But I knew Sante had just as little say in the matter as I did.

Nothing happened. There’s no reason to get upset, okay? I’m fine. I peered at him pleadingly, then motioned to the living room. When he just stood there, brows furrowed, I took his hand and pulled him to the couch. He let me drag him but begrudgingly.

We returned to our movie, though he never fully relaxed next to me. An hour later, we were interrupted by the sounds of my father returning home. I sat up and slowly turned to peer at my brother, wary of what I might find. As I suspected, the severe cut of his jaw and harsh draw of his brows told me everything I needed to know. He planned to tell my father about Conner’s visit.

I shook my head, small jerky movements, wordlessly pleading.

His lips only thinned with resigned determination as he stood. The clacking of my father’s dress shoes counted down the seconds like the ticking of a bomb.

“You two and those action movies. Don’t you get sick of them?” Dad grumbled, taking the lid off a crystal decanter and pouring himself two fingers of scotch.

“Just killing time,” Sante said, his voice losing its familiar boyishness. “We had a visitor tonight.”

Dad’s eyes cut to my brother, then slid to me. I remained motionless on the couch, hoping beyond hope I’d finally learned to become invisible.

“Reid came by. I’d gone with Umberto to the garage to help him install that new temperature gauge.” He paused, his gaze briefly straying to mine with a glint of apology that quickly faded into harsh resolve. “Noemi answered the door and spoke with him outside.”

My father went eerily still. When his gaze cut to me, the fury in his eyes leached him of all humanity. My queasy stomach now roiled angrily, pressing dangerously high in my throat.

All thoughts of his drink forgotten, Dad prowled toward me.

“Nothing happened, but I thought you should know. That’s all,” Sante added as though a sudden bout of conscience had him backpedaling.

Dad ignored him completely. When he was close enough to tower over me, he struck quick as a snake, grabbing my wrist and yanking me to my feet. “Did you let him f*****g touch you?” Irate spittle dotted my face, veins bulging in my father’s forehead. He was as angry as I’d ever seen him, and it terrified me.

I shook my head frantically, the bones in my wrist screaming in agony as he crushed them together.

“That’s all I need is for you to ruin this by letting him f**k you before the wedding, giving him reason to back out.”

Again, all I could do was shake my head and pray he believed me.

“Don’t you ever pull that s**t again, you hear me?” He brought his cheek to mine, his next words for my ears only. “You f**k this up, and it won’t be quick like your mother. I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.” He pulled back, and the demented rage in his black stare sealed his murderous promise.

I nodded through tear-filled eyes and tugged away from him, the need to escape clawing at my every fiber. He finally relented.

I rushed from the room, passing Sante on the way, unable to look him in the face. I knew my disappointment and resentment would shine through, but I also knew none of this was entirely his fault. He was just a boy, no matter how manly he now looked. A pawn in our father’s sadistic games.

I’d thought I hated the man when I was younger for never being present, but I hadn’t even known what hate was. Now, I was intimately acquainted with the emotion. Hate blistered a scorching path in my veins and flayed me open from the inside. Fausto Mancini was a poison, determined to destroy me, one way or another.