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Obviously, I’ve never thought about how it would be if I were forced to marry someone and the whole thing was done secretly, but I doubt I would have expected to feel so good about the ordeal. But somehow, I do.
Carlo pulls a set of fluffy white handcuffs out of the box and looks at the man sitting next to Grace, who must be Giovanni. “Really, Gio?”
The man shrugs slyly and says, “In case she tries to run.”
My heart stops. I realize everyone must know I’m being forced to marry Carlo, and some of them think I might try to run away. But then Carlo laughs, and I realize it’s a joke.
“Are you going to try to run from me, baby?”
“Never, babe.” I shake my head. “But we can make good use of those anyway.” I wink at the man he called Gio. “Thanks, cousin.”
The gifts have all been opened, so I get up from the table, thinking the event is over. My dress brushes up against the table, shifting the white tablecloth aside a little, and I see something under the table. Bending down, I find a box wrapped in scarlet red paper with no card attached. Holding it up, I ask, “Does anyone know who brought this gift? The card’s missing.”
No one claims ownership of the gift, so I place it on top of the table and proceed to unwrap it, thinking the card must be inside. As soon as I get the paper off, I smell a familiar scent and smile. “I think it’s from John.” It smells like the shampoo he uses.
Carlo comes to stand behind me, placing his hands on my waist as he watches me open the box. At first, I don’t understand what I’m looking at. “A wig?” I look over my shoulder and see an odd look on Carlo’s face.
Still not understanding, I reach in, grab the hair of the wig, and pick it up, finding it heavier than a wig should be. The wig is attached to something. When it spins around to face me, I see what looks like the head of a mannequin. Thick red liquid drips from it and splatters off the edge of the table onto my white wedding dress. Looking down, I see blood puddling at my feet.
Carlo reaches out and takes the thing from me as I begin screaming, “No! No! No!” It cannot be! It can’t.
What the hell is happening?
Carlo’s grim expression turns to fury as he holds up my stepbrother’s severed head. “This means war!”
Chapter 9
Carlo
How dare they! Daniel Barone has gone too far.
I place my best friend’s bloody head into the box my wife just pulled it out of. I know that someone from Barone’s camp is in my home, and I know what I must do. Isabella’s safety is my priority, so I scoop her up into my arms and rush to take her to safety.
Chaos breaks out as the people in my organization realize the same thing I have and rush to get their families out of the mansion. Daniel has brought war to the Vietti family, and none of us will stand for it.
Crying hysterically, Isabella buries her face in my chest. “John! No! Why?”
“Shh,” I try to hush her. “I need you to be quiet.” She has no idea the danger she’s in. But it’s time for her to find out.
Carrying her into my saferoom, I kick the door shut, and it locks automatically behind us. The room is outfitted with a bed, some other furnishings, and enough food and water to last a month.
After setting Isabella down on the bed, I can see how upset she is. Looking around, she asks, “No windows? What is this place?”
“It’s a safe room. No one will get to you in here.” Smoothing her hair, I try to comfort her.
“Me?” she asks with a whimper in her voice. “Are you afraid someone is after me?”
“There are people after you, Isabella.” She begins freaking out, and I hug her and try to calm her down, but I understand she has to get some of this out before she can think straight. “Go ahead, cry. Get it all out. I know you’re hurt and afraid.”
Pulling away from me, she looks at me with a tear-streaked face. “I need to know everything, Carlo. Why you married me. Why the secrets. And why my stepbrother, the only family I have left, is dead.”
There are so many things to tell her that it’s hard to know where to start. But I have to start somewhere, so it might as well be from the very beginning. “You are the daughter of a powerful Mafia boss who lives here in New York.”
Shaking her head, it’s clear she doesn’t believe me. “No. That can’t be right. My mother would never have been with a dangerous criminal.”
“Your mother isn’t who you think she is. The woman you think is your mother isn’t.”
Her mouth drops, and she sniffles. “What the hell are you saying, Carlo?”
