Crimson Vows: A Dark Mafia Romance

Chapter 1

With a confident stride, I enter the cluttered office filled with the pungent smell of motor oil and rubber. Shelves stacked high with tools and spare parts line the walls while greasy rags and discarded tools litter the floor. Patrick, who has faithfully run one of my father’s businesses since I was a little girl, sits behind his desk, surrounded by stacks of paperwork and invoices. He doesn’t look up as I enter, focusing solely on the task in front of him.

I clear my throat. “Patrick.” He flinches, startled by my presence, and glances up at me.

“Gia,” he mumbles, shuffling the papers as if they hold some escape route. “What can I do for you?” I haven’t seen him since my father’s funeral, and he’s obviously uncomfortable with my presence.

I close the door to the small office and look down at him. “I know I haven’t been in since everything happened, but I wanted to stop by and let you know all that will change.” Vincent and Marco made a decision six weeks ago after the night on the dock. I might have shot and killed my father, but it wouldn’t be good for anyone involved if the perception were that there was any turmoil within the King Mafia. Vincent swore the other capos to secrecy, assuring them it was safer for all involved if what happened to Anthony on his boat was simply an accident. The official story is that a fire started while he slept, and unfortunately, he didn’t make it out in time. Vincent and the other captains, though, know that it was me who ended my father’s life that night.

At first, I thought Vincent was looking out for me, making sure I didn’t face any blowback for the role I played in killing a family captain even though it was done to save Vincent’s life. But now I’m starting to see that none of the lies were for me. They were all to protect Vincent and his fragile hold on the head of this family. If word got out to other organizations that a captain made a move against Vincent, it would be open season on the King Mafia.

Patrick looks up at me, and I can tell by his expression he is baffled. He shakes his head. “I can assure you everything is running as smoothly as it did when your father was here. I’m not letting anything slip through the cracks.”

Pursing my lips, I lean on the front of the desk and reply while staring at him, “That’s not exactly true, is it?”

I had my father’s laptop, and I knew, while perhaps the auto body portion of the business ran smoothly, the lucrative part of the business halted six weeks ago.

His brow furrows as he leans back in his chair. Crossing his arms over his chest, he gives me his full attention. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“Oh, come on, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Orders are piling up.” I slam my hand on the nearest stack. “Why aren’t they being filled?”

He hesitates, a bead of sweat tracing the curve of his temple. He knows I won’t like what comes next.

“Look, Gia—”

“Spit it out, Patrick.” I lean in, making sure he feels my presence.

“I can’t do shit until I hear from... Marco.” The name hangs between us, an unwelcome specter. “The police are sniffing around, asking questions about your father’s death, so we ain’t doing shit until we hear from him that it’s all clear.”

“Marco?” My pulse quickens, a bitter taste rising in my throat. “I’m Anthony’s daughter. I own this fucking shop, so can you please tell me what Marco has to do with any of this?”

Patrick swallows hard, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah... I mean, you do. You own the shop, I mean. But the other stuff, the family stuff, has to go through him. He’s... he’s calling the shots now.”

“Excuse me?” The words are ice, each syllable a shard of betrayal. “This is mine. Not Marco’s.”

Patrick shrugs. “Look, I’m sorry, Gia. I just work here. If you don’t like the way things are run, you’ll have to take it up with them.”

I stand there, seething with anger, betrayal coursing through my veins. Is Marco calling the shots? This is not the agreement Marco and I made, and I refused to accept it. If I had to guess, it isn’t Marco shutting me out, though. This seemed more like something that came from that spineless piece of shit, Vincent.

“Fine then, that’s what I’ll do.” I straighten, anger surging like a storm inside me.

As I storm out of the office, my mind races with thoughts of rebellion. Marco came to my home a little over a week ago, proposing what was obviously all a bunch of lies. When Vincent suggested my father’s numerous enterprises be divided between the other capos, Marco claims he stepped up and said he would like to take them over. He said he intended to keep everything my father had built for me. If I agreed to go on one date per week with him, he would allow me to run everything. At the end of the year, I would be released from any further obligation if I didn’t have feelings for him. He would insist to Vincent that all of my father’s businesses stay with me to continue running.

I pull out my phone and quickly text Marco.

Me: We need to talk. Now.

Within seconds, his reply flashes on the screen.

Marco: At Vincent’s penthouse. What’s wrong?

My fingers fly across the keyboard as I type back, my fury seeping into every word.

Me: You lied to me. You promised me control over my father’s business.

Marco: And I meant it.

The air bites at my flushed cheeks as I march across the littered asphalt, gravel crunching beneath my boots.

“Bullshit,” I hiss under my breath, a venomous whisper that cuts through the chill of the late afternoon.

I’m at my car in strides, yanking the door open more forcefully than necessary. The interior is cool, and the leather of the driver’s seat creaks as I slide in. I press the ignition and the engine roars to life.

My hands grip the steering wheel tightly as I speed through the streets, the sound of the city doing little to drown out my racing thoughts.

I can’t believe I fell for Marco’s lies. His smooth words and promises had entrapped me in a web of deceit. He is no different from Vincent. None of them would be here if it weren’t for what I did for them that night, and now, Vincent and Marco expect me to bow down and simply hand over everything my father worked for. Not a chance. He may have made a foolish decision in the end, but that doesn’t wipe away the countless years of loyalty my father gave the family, and I deserve to have all of it for what I did for them.

As I approach Vincent’s penthouse, a surge of determination propels me forward. I refuse to let Marco and Vincent dictate my fate, to strip away my power and independence. My foot hammers the gas pedal, and the car surges forward.

“Vincent.” His name comes out as a hiss. I remember our night together at his family home in New Jersey. The way he wrapped me in his promises, his words painting a future I allowed myself to embrace. But they were just that—words. Empty air, leaving hollow spaces inside me.

A flash of Eva’s face, her smug smile as she clung to Vincent’s arm, slices through my thoughts. A bitter laugh escapes me. To think I was na?ve enough to believe he actually meant anything he ever said to me. It was obviously all a mirage, a cruel game.

And now he thinks he can pass me off to his consigliere, and I will keep my mouth shut for receiving... what? A consolation prize? The two men have another think coming if they believe I will lie down and accept this as my fate. If I was willing to kill my own father despite it not being my intent, what do they think I’m capable of doing to them?

I turn into the parking garage, and the echo of gunfire rings out in my memories. An image I will never shake fills my thoughts. My father’s boat and the smell of blood. Nico’s blood then his blood. The memory claws at me, demanding attention.

“Fuck you all,” I mutter, thinking about the sacrifice I made to save them that night. After being humiliated by Vincent, I didn’t rescue them to have my future stripped away. Marco’s assurances and his vow to keep the business mine crumble like dry earth. I’m mad at myself for even considering to trust him. Why I believed he stood apart from the rest is beyond me. But the truth is clear: he’s cut from the same cloth as Vincent. Power. Control. They crave it and wield it without remorse.

A lump forms in my throat, a mix of grief and rage. No more lies. No more manipulation. I won’t let their deceit dictate my path. Not anymore.

And today? Today, I’ll show them how fierce Gia Casaletto can be.