Vows and Vendettas

Chapter 18

Blair

A gust of wind makes its way through the crumbling structure, slipping through the broken windows and between the gaps in the metal walls. They groan and shift in the breeze, a low metallic complaint that echoes through the empty warehouse like the walls are fighting to stay standing. Strands of my now‑loose hair whip across my face, sticking to the sweat on my cheek. I swat at them.

I don't know where he thinks he has any right to my life before I married him. The sheer audacity that Dante Lazzari has right now is astounding, to say the least.

All I can do is stare up at him as my mind fumbles between anger and utter disbelief. Dante’s expression is dark, like he is fighting not to murder someone; his hands flex at his sides when I don't answer him right away.

Why does it matter if I was almost kidnapped once before? It wouldn't be the first time someone resorted to kidnapping to make a name for themselves in the underbelly of the world. It’s almost a normal occurrence. Sick, twisted, and entirely f*cked up, but pretty tame for the mob.

“Answer the question, moglie. Did Luca handle it as you so eloquently said?”

I scoff, rolling my eyes so hard it almost hurts. “Yes, Luca was there that night. Happy? Or does it bother you that you weren't the first to get to play the knight in shining armor?”

A muscle in his cheek twitches, and I swear I can hear the sharp sound of his teeth grinding together before he grabs a hold of my hand, his fingers lacing through mine with an ease that sends a traitorous flutter through my chest. My anger stutters, softens, even as I try to cling to it. He doesn’t fire back with another biting remark of his own, like I thought that he would. He just turns, tugging my hand gently, dragging me through the empty warehouse with a determined pace.

“Oh, moglie, I’m the farthest thing from a knight.” Dante looks back over his shoulder and smiles. “And so is Luca.”

Of course, he still thinks that.

I decide that it isn't worth arguing over anymore. Dante will believe whatever Dante wants, and right now the energy to fight him over his opinion of Luca is slipping out of me like water through my fingers. The adrenaline from the attack is draining from my body fast, leaving my limbs heavy and my knees threatening to buckle completely.

When he stops, I look at him and then at the wall in front of us. Did he hit his head? Why is he just staring at a wall?

Then he reaches out and pushes against the wall. There is an audible click and the wall moves. It actually moves. The edge pops out just enough to where you could wedge your fingers inside. Dante does just that, and the wall opens more to reveal a metal stairwell that goes down to who knows where.

It's dark, and the air smells stale from a lack of airflow. As we step inside, the metal groans under our weight, each step sending a hollow clang that echoes all the way down the shaft. The lower we go, the cooler the air gets, its icy fingers brushing against my overheated skin and causing my body to shiver. Dante glances back when he feels the tremor course its way through my hand, and he stops, slips off his jacket, and drapes it over my shoulders.

The warmth from the material is soothing, and I can't help but bury my nose into the lapel. His cologne is still strong, that perfect mix of leather and clove. His lips twitch like he is pleased with my reaction.

I want to stomp on his foot just to wipe the self-satisfied look from his face.

He turns back and continues down the stairs, still holding my hand, while my free hand wraps around the railing at the side, my fingers tightening around the cold metal when my balance wavers after a few steps. It doesn't take much longer before the stairwell gives way to a massive room, with a low ceiling and fluorescent lights.

Along the wall are multiple wooden crates.

“What is all of this?” I ask as I step off the final step. The stairs giving one final groan of protest.

“Business,” he says.

I roll my eyes at my husband's clear dismissal of my question. “You do remember my father runs his own crime organization too? Seeing the dirty side isn't going to make me run screaming to the cops.”

Dante stops, his grip on my hand loosens before he walks silently to one of the crates. He grabs a prybar from the top of another crate and jams it under the lid at the corner. The wood pops under the force before finally giving way. Slowly, Dante removes the top and reaches inside before removing a glistening black bottle.

Wine?

Its signature black glass and gold-foiled label mark it as one of the most expensive vintages that you can find in the world. And Dante just has it sitting underneath a crumbling warehouse.

“You look disappointed, moglie,” Dante says, the corner of his lips ticking upward like he is trying to hide his amusement. “Were you expecting something more exciting?”

I sigh as I cross the pass and take the bottle out of his hands to examine it. The glass is slightly dusty, but other than that, it’s in pristine condition. I run my thumb over the label; the gold embossed lettering is barely raised above the rest of the label.

“No, just surprised is all,” I say as I turn the bottle over in my hands before holding it up to him. “Somehow, fancy wines doesn’t fit the f*ck with me and die vibe that you tend to exude.”

He gives me a rare smile. One that lights up his entire face. “Is that so?”

He’s cuter when he does that. Is cute an accurate word to describe a man who more than likely has killed more men than I can begin to count?

Dante props a hip on the side of the crate and crosses his arms over his chest, causing his muscles to bulge beneath his crisp white shirt. “And what does give off f*ck with me and die vibes?

“Weapons. Drugs…”

“I don't bother with drugs,” he says as he takes the bottle from me. Our fingers barely brushing before he tucks the bottle back into its container. “That is for the lower-level street scum. Weapons, I have some, but this,” he replaces the lip. “This is where the money is. You would be surprised how much the elites are willing to pay to get their hands on a vintage bottle of wine or whiskey that’s worth millions.”

“So the King of Langston has standards.”

“More than I can say for your ex-fiancé.”

Well, there he goes again. Comparing him and Luca together.

“What is your obsession with Luca?”

Dante looks away; his body is drawn tight like he is bracing for a gunfight to break out at any second.

“Because Luca isn't who you think he is. Who he portrayed himself as…to you.” Dante lifts his gaze to meet mine again, and that warm brown I have grown used to looks colder than I think I have ever seen. “He isn't the knight in your story, Blair. He is the villain.”

Villain?

I have the urge to laugh in his face.

“I am sure that there are several that would say the same thing about you. And my Papa.”

“Luca is far more dangerous than I think you are aware of, Blair. He has an inflated sense of self-worth, and the fact that he isn't getting what he thinks he deserves is making him more dangerous than before.”

Why does it feel like there is something that I'm missing? Why does it feel like Dante is hinting at something that I am not going to like? He said Luca is becoming dangerous; does that mean that he thinks Luca had something to do with what happened today?

There is no way. And to think that I was starting to actually like him, and he had to go and ruin it.

"You're unbelievable, you know that, right?” I grumble, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. The skin around my ankles has been rubbed raw.

“Among other things. I have been made aware,” he answers flatly. “Come on, you need to change and get cleaned up.”

Dante turns and passes through an archway that leads into another section that I hadn't noticed. I follow after him only after removing my heels. My skin burns as if it had been lit on fire.

“You think that Luca is the one behind what happened today?”

“Because I know it was him,” Dante says without bothering to look over his shoulder at me.

“Would you like to elaborate?” I ask while hurrying my pace to catch up with him.

“The men who attacked you weren't professionals,” Dante adds as he continues walking into a separate room at the far end, tucked into the corner like it had been added long after this storage room.

“That doesn't mean that Luca is the one who hired them. Or that he is behind anything that happened today. It could have been anyone who knows you married me, and they are just trying to get at you.” I stop in the doorway and fold my arms across my chest.

“That's possible, but no one is actually so stupid to actually try.”

I scoff as I watch Dante pull a duffel bag from a small cabinet. It's clean-looking, so it hasn't been there for very long. He steps closer; each footfall is softer than before, but his voice seemingly drops with each step he takes towards me.

“Strip.”

“Now?” I squeak. His hand wraps around my non-injured wrist firmly and fully pulls me through the doorway, and closes the door behind me with a soft click. “Yes, now. And while you do that, I want you to tell me everything about the first attempted kidnapping. And every detail about your relationship with Luca Voss. Everything Blair. Even the tiny mundane things that you think might be unimportant.”

I stare at him for a second. Apparently, there is no room for negotiation.

“Fine,” I sigh.

Shrugging off his jacket, my fingers move to the torn fabric at my waist and carefully begin to lift it. The material drags and catches against my scraped skin, and I wince as I pull it away from my body. Dante's expression immediately changes, dropping to the torn skin over my hip. I hadn't realized just how bad it was until now. The pain was starting to radiate throughout my body, pulsing with every breath.

“Careful.”

I hiss through my teeth the moment the fabric clears my arms. Several shallow scrapes run along my side, and the motion of raising my hands over my head causes the skin to stretch and burn.

“Sit,” Dante says, his jaw clenching.

“I’m fine.”

“Blair.”

There is just enough warning in my name that I roll my eyes before lowering myself onto a nearby stool. The wood groans under me, shifting slightly, and for a second I’m scared that it won't hold my weight. Thankfully, it doesn't crumble and take me with it. Dante follows, kneeling in front of me as he examines every inch of me now. For a man who spends most of his time looking like he is about to order someone's death, Dante is surprisingly careful when he reaches for my ankle. His fingers brush the skin just above the raw patch, avoiding the worst of it.

I let out a slow breath. “I was at the club and decided I was going to slip my guard.”

Dante's mouth twitches. “Somehow that is the least surprising detail.” He removes a small bottle from the duffel bag. He removes the lid and soaks a piece of gauze. When it touches my ankle, I flinch automatically. Burning shoots its way through every cell in my body like they had just been electrocuted.

“Sorry.”

I suck in a deep breath to calm my pounding heart and try to ignore the pain. “It’s fine.” I bite out as I look down at him. His hands move with purpose. “I was sick of having a shadow that scared every hookup chance I had away with a single scowl. It was a dumb idea looking back now, but I was tired of feeling like I couldn't breathe without someone counting every breath.”

A quiet huff escapes him, like an almost laugh that he is attempting to hide. I swat at his shoulder.

“Anyway… somehow I ended up in an alley behind the club. As soon as I stepped through the back door, they were on me.” I shuddered at the memory of hands on me. Even today I can still feel them if I think about that night. My fingers curl around the edge of the stool. “It was dark; the streetlight wasn't even on. I can remember hands grabbing me. Yanking and pulling at me.” My throat tightens. “They shoved me toward the back of the van.”

Dante’s hands still against my calf as he lifts his gaze to meet mine. “I don't even remember hearing the door open again. You would think that I would because it squeaked loudly when I stepped through it. But then Luca was there. He drew their attention, and a fight broke out. I don't remember much about that, as I hid in the back of the van because I was too scared to move.”

Dante shifts, his hands moving from my leg to my hip. The rash of scratches is larger there than anywhere else on my body. “Sh*t, that feels worse than it looks,” I comment as he starts to clean the area.

“Well, it isn't pretty either.”

“Well, thanks.” I laugh weakly at his attempt at a joke.

“What happened after? Did he take you home?”

“Oh God, no. Papa would have lost it. Not only because I slipped my detail, but because Luca was the one who was there to stop them from taking me. Papa never liked his family, so I knew better. It's why I kept the fact that we were seeing one another to myself for as long as I did.”

Dante nods as he tosses the bloody gauze into a trash can. “So in return for saving you, you decided to marry him?”

I swear if my eyes could roll all the way to the back of my head, they would have in that moment. To anyone hearing this story, it would look like that was exactly the case. But it wasn't. “No. We dated for a while before he brought up the idea of getting married.”

“Was it random?”

“Was what random?” I ask.

“Luca mentioning marriage? Did you bring up the idea first, or was it him?” Dante rises to his feet, his hands lifting to examine my swollen wrist. The pads of his fingers brush the tender skin, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out.

“Why does that matter?” I ask

“It doesn't seem the least bit odd that, of all the people in that club that could have walked out of that door and seen what was going on, it was another Don?”

“No, why would it?”

For the same reason that you gave for today's attack.” His voice drops, low and dangerous. “I may have more power and influence over the city, but your father has a significant hold and influence over his territory. Is it so hard to believe that Luca used saving you as a backdoor to get his hands on your father's territory?”

My stomach drops to the floor. Sure, it’s possible. There is always a possibility, but I never felt like Luca was after anything. He always seems averse to anything regarding my father. He wasn't thrilled when I told him that I told my father so that we could have a big wedding.

He wouldn't go through so much trouble just to get to my father, would he?