Page 111 of Fake Dark Vows
“Enzo, who is nearly identical to Father at that age?”
Gia shakes her head. “They don’t know. It’s not like there’s a picture of him lying around the De Luca estate or anything.”
“Marco will know. He spent plenty of time with Father and I.”
“I know, but if we can just find the contract…”
I slam my fist down on my desk. “Enough, Gia!”
The hurt in her eyes cuts me, but I hold her gaze. Gia and I are fraternal twins, but our looks are so similar that when we were both tiny and sported terrible bowl cuts, people would mistake us for each other.
She is my sister. My best friend. My closest confidante.
And even to her, I am a monster.
Sacrifice. “We are not looking for the contract, Gia. There’s no point. The only way for us to get Marco and the De Luca’s to admit that they killed our parents is to use their greatest weakness against them.
Catarina is young. She’s naïve. She’s been sheltered by three older brothers who would do anything for her, and she’s the person who will hurt them the most when we take her.”
Gia’s expression morphs into something hard. Her lips draw tight, and the corners of her eyes look pinched.
“I understand, boss.”
With that, she leaves.
I sit back in my chair. My head is pounding now, and I lean forward to pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers. The orange blossom scented air reaches out to me again, and I inhale deeply, letting it soothe me as I try to think around the pulsing in my mind.
Everything that I said about Caterina is true.
She is the youngest of the De Lucas. She’s been painfully sheltered by her three older brothers to the point where her innocence is so obvious on her face that it’s almost palpable.
After Marco and I graduated business school, I moved back to Italy. An American education through young adulthood was plenty for my family, but the promise of a business degree had been mine.
The last time I saw Caterina prior to our engagement party, she was fourteen. She was all legs and glasses and frizzy, wild curls. Remembering Gia at that age, I had been polite but indifferent. I had kept a wide berth from her, because she was a child.
When I saw her again at our engagement party, I had been expecting that child.
But instead, a woman had shown up.
I think Marco may have pinched me a little too hard when his sister, on the arms of Sal, the brother closest to her in age, walked into the room.
I breathe in the citrus blossoms again. Dio santo, I remember everything about that night.
Her dress. A lilac color that made her look like some kind of fairy tale princess.
The way her skin glowed in the candlelight.
The way her lips had rounded on my name, shaping it into syllables that I knew, but hearing them from her made me feel reborn.
The way her eyes glittered when we danced.
My jaw works as I try to stop myself from remembering more.
Because there is so much more to remember.
The sweet surprise of her lips as I parted them with my tongue. The little noises she made when I pushed the gown off of her shoulders, releasing her pert breasts to the cool night air. The way she gasped my name, first as she came around my fingers, next as she came…
Stop.