Page 91 of Vows of Blood

The kitchen is silent except for the ticking of a clock somewhere in the house.

"So what now?" Rebecca asks quietly. "You pretend none of that happened? Marry Luca and pray this doesn’t come up at Christmas dinner?"

"No," I insist. "Now I make the most of the opportunity I've been given since I'm back in this world, whether I wanted to be or not."

Maybe it is fate. Maybe it’s karma. Who knows.

Rebecca is quiet for a long moment. "I don’t want you to get hurt."

I rub my thumb over the ring on my finger, starting to get used to its presence. "I'll be careful."

"I see the way you talk about him. I get the history, the chemistry. But this will probably end in disaster, you know that, don’t you? Maybe you get a happily ever after, or a large check and a fresh start, but you could also get a knife in the back."

When I say nothing, just smile, she groans, knowing nothing she can say will change my mind.

“Oh boy.” She drains her glass and sets it down with the air of someone who knows she's lost the argument but reserves the right to say I told you so later. I walk her to the front door, our arms linked, neither of us wanting to let go just yet.

Tony’s waiting at the bottom of the steps.

"I'll have one of the guys follow you home," he says, reaching for his radio. "Make sure you get back safe."

Rebecca pauses, keys already in her hand.

"No offense," she says, wrapping her arms around herself. "But I'll feel safer the further away I get from your men."

Tony’s hand, poised over his radio, stops. Rebecca’s hand flies to her mouth, realizing she said the quiet part out loud. “At least take a lift to your car.”

Roman appears on a golf cart, pulling up at the bottom of the steps with a reluctant attitude that suggests he drew the short straw for this particular duty.

Rebecca winces as she skips down the stairs and comes to stand beside him. "Listen, about earlier. I may have been a bit..."

"Aggressive?" Roman offers. "Rude?" He sighs. "Just get in."

Rebecca clasps her hands together. "In my defense, I thought my best friend was being held captive."

Roman's lips twitch as she climbs in awkwardly, sitting as far away from him as she can. "And coming to the Calvano's front door, ranting and raving was your masterplan to get her out?"

"I got in, didn't I?"

Pretending not to be mortified about kicking up such a fuss, she gives me a wave over her shoulder as Roman whisks her away.

"Charming friend." Tony mutters, then waits for a beat to add, "And she's probably not wrong about being safer on her own."

26

LUCA

The bass thrums through my chest as we push through the entrance of Onyx, the crowd parting instinctively.

Nobody looks directly at me, or at least the men don't, but I feel their awareness, the way conversations pause and resume, the ripple of recognition spreading through the room. I came to show my face, to remind the other families that it's business as usual, and that the Calvano’s don't waver. That the time is right to make a change.

And to make sure my father understands that too.

He's installed himself in the main VIP booth, arms draped along the back of the tufted leather sofa, holding court. There’s one woman draped on either side of him, laughing at whatever he just said. His tailored suit is pristine, his silver cufflinks catching the light, but his cheeks are ruddy, and his eyes slightly bloodshot from whatever booze or substance he already has on board.

"Fucking shameless," Enzo says quietly behind me as our dear dad pulls one of the women forward for a kiss while keeping his arm wrapped around the other. Two guards block him from most of the room, but everyone fucking knows what he’s up to.

And to make the evening even fucking worse, cutting through the crowd toward us with a fucking glass of champagne and the swagger of a man who believes himself untouchable, is Orlando.