Forgotten Vows

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Elio

Her face stops time, and five years of hatred melt away in an instant. Aleta Ricci stands in front of me like an apparition from a past I’ve tried to bury—more beautiful than she has any right to be. It’s been three years since I’ve seen her, and five since she disappeared from that villa in Positano without so much as a goodbye. Five f*****g years of wondering what game she was playing.

“What an unexpected pleasure,” I say, despite the lie tasting bitter on my tongue.

She tilts her head to the side, causing midnight black hair to split over one shoulder. “I’m surprised my brother allowed you through the door.”

“Your brother doesn’t control everything, despite what he might think.” I take a slow sip of whiskey, allowing myself a moment to really look at her.

Aleta Ricci has grown into her beauty. She’s no longer the impulsive twenty-year-old I seduced on an Italian beach. Her body fills out the sequined gown in ways that make my fingers itch to run over every curve. Midnight black hair flows down her back, contrasting with porcelain skin that seems to glow under the chandelier light. Big blue eyes—her father’s eyes, not that snake Nico’s—stare up at me through those thick lashes, and I remember that same little smirk she’s wearing from under those hotel sheets and secret rendezvous.

“Switzerland was cold,” she offers unexpectedly. “But educational.”

Of course I know where Nico sent her. I make it my business to know everything about the Ricci family. “I heard you caused quite a stir before your brother shipped you off.”

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

“Information is worth more than gold in our world.” I take a long step closer and lower my voice. “Tell me, did your European finishing school teach you to avoid men like me, or did they focus on more practical skills, like how to spot when your brother is lying to you?”

A shade of crimson blooms across her face, and those beautiful cheeks puff out. “You have no right—”

“I have every right. You vanished without a word, Aleta. Then your brother tried to have me killed. Excuse me if I’m not overflowing with warm feelings.”

Two of my associates are sticking close nearby, pretending not to watch our exchange. I dismiss them with a subtle nod without taking my eyes off Aleta.

“Nico told me you were using me for information,” she whispers. “He showed me evidence—”

“Fabricated.”

Her eyes search mine, looking for deception. “He had photos of you meeting with the Gambinos and copies of documents dated during our time together.”

“Did you ever ask yourself why your brother was having me followed while you and I were supposed to be a secret?” I finish my drink and place the empty glass on a passing server’s tray. “Or what he might gain by convincing you I was the villain?”

Her eyebrows pinch together, and I can actually see her trying to figure out if I’m telling the truth. Good. Let her question everything she’s been told.

“Dance with me,” I offer, changing tactics. Around us, couples move toward the dance floor as the orchestra transitions to something slower.

“Are you insane?” Her eyes dart toward Nico, who thankfully remains occupied across the room. “My brother would—”

“Your brother is distracted by the mayor. One dance, Aleta. For old time’s sake.” I extend my hand with my palm up. “Unless you’re afraid of what you might remember.”

Her lips press together, and that familiar stubbornness I once found endearing shines through. I lean closer, and my breath stirs the loose strands of hair near her ear.

“I never used you for information,” I tell her. “Everything between us was real. Dance with me, and I’ll tell you what actually happened five years ago.”

Truth is my most effective weapon tonight. Nico Ricci has spent years poisoning his sister against me, but lies eventually crumble under their own weight. Aleta deserves to know how her brother manipulated both of us and drove us apart for his own purposes. How he nearly destroyed me afterward.

My fingers remain extended in both an invitation and a test. She stares at my hand like it might burn her.

“You disappeared,” I continue, keeping my voice level despite the old anger stirring inside me. “I went to our meeting place for three days straight. By the fourth day, your brother’s men were waiting for me instead.”

Her face falls. This part, at least, seems new to her.

“Nico never told you that part, did he? How his men put me in the hospital?” I roll my shoulder subtly, where a knife scar still pulls tight when the weather changes. “I spent two months recovering, then another year rebuilding what he tried to take from me.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because you told him something, Aleta. Something that made him think I was a threat beyond just sleeping with his sister.” I watch her face carefully. “What was it?”

She blinks as moisture pools around her blue irises. “I didn’t—I never betrayed you.”

“Maybe not intentionally.” The orchestra reaches the end of one piece and begins another. “Tell me on the dance floor.”

Couples twirl around us, locked in their respectable embraces, following steps learned in finishing schools and cotillion classes. None of them understand the real dance happening between Aleta and me.

“One dance,” she finally agrees. “But I can’t promise any answers.”

“I’ve waited five years, tesoro. I can be patient a little longer.”

A moment’s more hesitation, then Aleta places her delicate hand in mine.