Page 37 of Vows of Silence

Frank had tried to reassure me by telling me the security was simply for the sheer amount of jewellery I was wearing. I was a walking vault, he said.

Neither of us truly believed it, but I appreciated the effort.

“What’s wrong?” Frank asked.

I frowned at him, and he nodded his head at my lap. I looked down to find myself twisting the engagement bracelet repeatedly around my wrist, a nervous habit of mine that had begun to rub my wrist raw.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise.”

Easy for him to say.

He wasn’t on his way to celebrate his own arranged marriage whilst wondering whether his fiancée was secretly involved in organised crime and whether a masked psychopath was stalking him through camera systems.

My head tipped back against the seat with a quiet sigh.

“I just want tonight over with.”

“You might end up enjoying yourself.”

I turned my head to look at him. “Do you have a wife, Frank?”

“I did.”

“What happened?”

“Irreconcilable differences—at least according to the divorce papers I was served.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is. I knew what I was signing up for when I went into security.”

“How long were you married for?”

“A fair few years.”

“Were you happy?”

Frank was silent for a moment. Then, carefully, “Mr Vescari cares for you in his own way.”

I turned slowly to look at him. “That’s not what I asked,” I said with a small grin.

“It’s the only answer you’re getting.”

“What do you know about him, Frank? And no bullshit. Tell me the truth. Please.”

His expression didn’t change, but something flickered behind his eyes. Before he could answer, headlights exploded across the windshield.

Everything happened at once.

The screech of tyres.

A deafening horn.

Frank shouting my name.

Then impact.