Page 107 of Fake Dark Vows

All the more reason that we don’t need Elio to be a part of our lives. Now, in the future, or ever again.

“Zietto, did you know that the outside of your door is seven feet and three and one four inches tall?”

I grin while Marco pretends to be surprised and engages with Luna.

Luna has been really into measuring things lately. I would blame her kindergarten teacher, but I love it. Her school does a lot of experiential learning, and a local hardware store gifted them all tape measures.

Luna has always loved to build and construct, so she’s been really interested in understanding how things are put together. There’s no doubt that she’s been outside of the office carefully measuring the doorframe for this entire conversation.

There’s also no doubt in my mind that she did so blissfully unaware of what we were talking about.

Being five is a blessing, and Luna is an even bigger one.

“We should go,” I whisper. It’s not safe for Luna and I to be around the main house; there’s no doubt that Elio and his spies have eyes all over this place.

Luckily, my grandfather was a wildly paranoid plan, and Luna and I can use the tunnel system that he installed to our advantage.

Elio hasn’t found out about her yet. He appears to have no interest in me whatsoever past that night, which is fine with me.

I’m done hating him for his indifference.

Apparently, my brothers and I have moved into a much colder phase of our feelings for Elio.

Revenge.

“One week, Sorellina. Then we begin.”

I gulp.

One week of waiting.

And then it’s time to marry my worst enemy.

And the father of my child.

The drive back to our townhouse is quick. I live close enough to the main house that I’m easy to get to if needed, and so that the security that Marco pays for can easily zip back and forth if required to.

Hans, my personal bodyguard, is German, unusual for a mafia hire, but he’s a great guy and a fantastic bodyguard. I wave at him as we walk in. He waves back; he and his wife are expecting a little girl in a few months, and he’s been asking a lot of questions about Luna’s birth in order to prepare to be supportive.

I love that. It’s exactly the kind of father a kid needs.

After I settle Luna in for bed, I pour a glass of the prosecco that I’m trying to bring to market and go out to my balcony. I linger, just for a minute, and grab the locket that I never take off.

Its only contents are a picture of my mom and me.

“I miss you, Mamma,” I whisper at the sky.

My mother was a ray of sunshine. She had been against the marriage contract with Elio from the beginning and had only agreed when the last of her uncles was thrown in jail, right before I was born.

I wasn’t certain what the exact terms of the contract were. My dad and Elio’s dad had come up with them while they were out drinking and carousing in Atlantic City, of all places, and they had ensured that neither one of their families had access to the safe deposit box.

A brilliant plan.

My mother thought so as well. She berated both of them, but at the time, I hadn’t been born yet. The deal was to have Giovanni Rossi’s first son marry Antonio De Luca’s oldest daughter.

Who turned out to be me.

To my knowledge, Marco still hasn’t seen the original document, and neither has Elio. The location of the original contract is still a mystery.