Brutal Vows (Queens & Monsters #4)(2)

“You son of a bitch. Lili doesn’t know yet, does she?”

Gianni rises from his desk. Smoothing a hand down the front of his bespoke navy-blue suit jacket, he walks toward me. He stops in front of me and gently grasps my upper arms.

“I was hoping you could tell her.”

I say flatly, “I will kill you where you stand.”

He examines my expression, then drops his hands to his sides and takes a step back.

Smart move.

“This is why I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m sorry this brings up bad memories for you, but it’s happening. The terms have already been negotiated. The only thing left is for the Irishman to meet Lili. If she pleases him, the contract will be signed and the date will be set.”

He doesn’t elaborate on what will happen if Lili fails to please, but I know it won’t be good.

For Gianni, failure on even the smallest scale is unforgivable.

He continues in a softer tone. “And her zia will explain to her how this is all for the best, and how family comes first, and how, if her new husband proves to be anything like her zia’s late husband Enzo, he’ll find himself the victim of an untimely death, too.”

He pauses. “A meticulously planned death with no witnesses or evidence of foul play. An ‘accidental’ death so well executed, it even fooled the police.”

Without missing a beat, I say, “I didn’t kill my husband.”

He smiles. “I’ve never met anyone who can lie as well as you do.”

“It’s a gift.”

His smile grows wider. “One of many.”

“Stop trying to flatter me so I’ll do your dirty work for you.”

“She won’t listen to me, Rey. You know how she is.”

“Yes, it’s very inconvenient for the men in this family when the women have minds of their own.”

I can tell he wants to sigh, but he doesn’t. He simply stands and looks at me beseechingly until I give in.

It’s not like I have a choice, anyway. As the head of the Caruso family, Gianni calls all the shots. Someday, there will be a female head of one of the five Italian crime families in New York. It’s a dream of mine that I’ll live long enough to see it.

Until then, all I can do is exert as much influence as possible.

It helps that my brother’s afraid of me.

“I want final approval about this Irishman. I’ll tell Lili for you, but if I don’t like him, the deal is off.”

Gianni runs his tongue over his teeth. He’s probably counting silently to ten in his head or cursing, wishing he had a sister more like his best friend Leo’s. A docile, dim bulb of a girl with no opinions about anything except what her father and brother tell her to have.

Instead, he’s got me.

A woman with a bad reputation, a chip on her shoulder, and a sword for a tongue.

“Agreed?” I prod.

“You won’t think anyone is good enough for her,” he counters. “We’ll be having this same conversation over and over again for the next twenty years.”

“Untrue. I can be reasonable.”

He lifts a brow.

“Don’t make that face. I simply want to make sure he’s not a monster.”

“I assure you, he’s not a monster.”

“This would be a good time to point out that you liked Enzo, too.”

Gianni winces. “Enzo was a sociopath. They’re very good at pretending to be charming.”

“Exactly. Which is why I need to have the final word. If anyone can spot a psycho a mile away, it’s me.”

He doesn’t have an argument for that. How could he? It’s the truth.

I earned my monster radar the hard way.

Gianni gazes at me with an unreadable expression for so long, I think I’ve lost. But then he surprises me by saying, “Fine. If you don’t like the Irishman, the marriage is off.”

Relief floods my body. I exhale, nodding.

“But you still have to tell Lili.”

At the sound of car tires crunching over the gravel of the circular driveway outside, Gianni and I turn to the windows. Sounding amused, he says, “And I think you better do it quick.”

My ears burn with anger. “You’re a shitty father, Gi.”

He shrugs. “It runs in the family.”

I turn and walk out before I grab the letter opener off his desk and do something I’ll regret.





I take the stairs up to the second floor two at a time. At the landing, I make a sharp left and head down another corridor, the opposite direction from my bedroom. Grim ancestral oil portraits framed in gold glower down at me as I pass.

Ignoring the hand-painted frescoes on the walls, Venetian glass chandeliers sparkling overheard, and a startled housekeeper dusting the leaves of a potted palm, I stride quickly toward the room at the end.

I don’t have any time to waste.

I stop in front of the heavy oak door and pound my fist on it. “Lili? It’s me. Can I come in? I have to talk to you.”

“Just a second, zia! I’ll…I’ll be right there!”

From behind the door, Lili’s voice sounds faint. And panicked.

Maybe she already knows. She’s very clever for someone who’s been sheltered her entire life.