Crimson Vows: A Dark Mafia Romance

Chapter 2

Anger fuels each step as I stride into the lobby, my heels clicking a sharp staccato against the marble floor. Nico sits in a side chair near the elevator. He glances up from his phone, and when our eyes connect, the fury that’s simmered in my veins suddenly evaporates.

“Oh my God,” I exhale, nearly sprinting across the vast space that separates us. Before I know it, I throw my arms around him. “You’re here. You’re actually here,” I whisper, my voice muffled against the broad expanse of his chest.

“Gia,” he says, his voice a soothing rumble. He wraps his arms around me, and I close my eyes, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

My head tilts back to look up at him, taking in his shaved head and the stubble lining his jaw. He’s the picture of strength, yet I remember the hospital bed, the beeping machines, and the countless nights of worry. “I thought you’d still be in the hospital.”

He smiles, a soft curving of his lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank God, I’m not. I couldn’t take much more of that shit they called food,” he says.

I step back, studying the lines of strain around Nico’s eyes. “Please tell me you’re not working. You should’ve been in recovery longer,” I say, my voice firmer than I intend.

He shakes his head. “I got out two weeks ago,” he replies, a shadow crossing his features. “Honestly, I begged to come back. I couldn’t take the days of just lying around. It’s kind of nice that things are starting to feel a little normal again.” His fingers drum against his thigh, a silent rhythm of restless energy and unease.

“I’m sorry I only came to see you a couple of times. I—”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice filled with sincerity. “Don’t ever apologize to me. I won’t ever forget that you saved my life that night. I wouldn’t be standing here right now if it weren’t for you.”

At least someone seems to appreciate my sacrifice.

I swallow hard, the weight of his words sinking into my chest. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” he urges.

“I didn’t mean to kill Anthony,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted to stop him, to give all of you a chance to escape. I’m no hero. Apparently, I’m not as good a shot as I thought.”

Nico’s gaze softens, and his hand gently cups my cheek. “Gia, what you did saved all of us. It doesn’t matter what your intentions were because, at the end of the day, none of us would be here if it wasn’t for you.”

Tears well in my eyes, threatening to spill over. A strange mix of relief and guilt floods me, but hearing Nico’s reassurance anchors me in a way I didn’t expect.

Heat creeps into my cheeks, unfamiliar pride mingling with the swirl of emotions. I’ve never been one for praise, but coming from Nico, it feels like validation—like absolution.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice choked with emotion.

My chest tightens, and I force myself to breathe. Even now, the echo of the gunshot rings in my ears, the decision that split my life into before and after. But regret? No, it doesn’t find a home in my heart. I can’t allow it to, or I don’t think I’ll be able to live with what I did.

“Actually...” My gaze drifts past him toward the elevators. “I’m here because I need to see Marco. I thought I’d surprise him.”

“Upstairs?” Nico raises an eyebrow, a silent question hanging between us.

“Can you help me?” I need this favor, this alliance, yet asking for it reveals my vulnerability.

“And he doesn’t know you’re coming?” Nico asks apprehensively.

I laugh, trying to sound calm about the situation. “Well, then, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

“No, I suppose not.” Nico eyes me, looking for any hint that something might be off about my request. I force a smile, widening my eyes.

“I mean, I guess I can call up and let him know I’m here,” I offer. “I thought it would be fun to surprise him.”

Nico waves a hand. “Of course, I’ll ride up with you.”

“No, you don’t have to,” I assure him.

“Well, if you want to get up there without alerting him you are here to get buzzed up, then you will need my security badge,” Nico explains. “And that doesn’t leave my possession.”

I raise my hands nervously. “Okay then, let’s go.”

He leads the way as we step into the elevator. Nico’s presence looms beside me, a solid wall of muscle and resolve. The doors slide shut with a soft whisper, sealing us from the rest of the world.

As the elevator hums its ascent, Nico turns to me. His intense and unwavering eyes search mine. “I’m sorry if this is weird, but I wanted to ask you something.”

“Anything.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing. “I know you’re still dealing with everything that happened with your dad, but when you feel like you’re in a better place,” he says, “I... was hoping... well, I was wondering if you would like to see me again. Not because I owe you or out of obligation or something.” He swallows hard, the Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I’d like to take you out. Because I want to. I mean, if you want to.”

Something about seeing such a strong and tough man get twisted up around his words out of nerves is sweet and endearing. His question hangs there, suspended in the tight space between us. “You mean like a date?”

He nods.

I reach out, fingers curling around the solid warmth of Nico’s arm. “Of course,” I reply, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest. “I’d like that.”

The connection zings, an electric current from my fingertips to the hollow of my stomach. Then, with a gentle chime, reality intrudes.

The elevator doors glide open. The corridor’s cold air rushes in, carrying with it the scent of cologne and underlying tension. Marco stands there. His posture is rigid, eyes flinty as they flick from Nico to me. A muscle ticks in his jaw.

“Explain,” he commands, staring at the man next to me, his voice low but edged with steel.

Nico stiffens beside me, the arm under my hand turning to stone. He faces Marco, and the lines of his body are writing an apology I wish he didn’t have to make.

“Marco,” he starts, voice steady despite the ice in those two syllables. “Gia wanted—”

But it’s not his explanation to give. I tighten my grip on his arm, ready to claim my part in this unfolding drama.

“Surprise,” I manage at last.

“Surprise?” Marco’s voice is silk over steel. “Nico, why is she here?”

Nico opens his mouth, his usually steady voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. “She... she wanted to see you. She thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

“Nice?” Marco’s gaze narrows. “You know the protocols we are under right now. No one comes up without clearance. You don’t take orders from her.” He jerks his chin in my direction, his authority unquestionable.

“Marco, stop!” My protest slices through the tension. “Don’t yell at him. It wasn’t his fault. I asked him to help me, and he did—out of kindness.”

“Kindness? We don’t have room for kindness right now, and he knows that.” Marco’s lips twist into a cold semblance of a smile. “Back to your post.”

Nico hesitates, glances at me, then nods once—a soldier following orders. His retreat is silent.

The doors slide shut behind Nico, leaving me alone with Marco’s piercing stare.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t ask him to do things like that. He is taking over my old job as head of security, and there is no room for mistakes,” Marco explains, his tone softer now.

Marco turns without another word and heads toward the living room. “Excuse me, I was talking to you,” I snap, racing after him.

He slows, allowing me to catch up and walk beside him as we enter the living room and sit on the sofa. Papers and books are strewn about the coffee table in front of it.

“I’m sorry, I’m a little distracted right now. Had I known you were coming, I could have maybe made some time.”

“Well, I came so we could finish the conversation we started over text. I thought it was better to have it in person.”

“Is that right?” he asks, looking me up and down. “And what conversation is that?”

“You know, the one where we talk about you being a liar,” I say, my voice steady despite the tremor of anger beneath it.

Marco’s eyebrows rise, his curiosity piqued. “A liar?”

“I stopped by the auto-body shop,” I press on, crossing my arms to match his closed-off stance. “This isn’t what you promised me.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“You said I would be able to run things, and Patrick made it quite clear that isn’t the case.”

“Gia, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t spoken to Patrick since your father’s... well, you know,” he states, unable to maintain eye contact with me.

“Well, someone sure as hell talked to him because he told me when it comes to any off-the-books activities, he has been told it all goes through you.”

Marco sighs. “We talked about this.”

I close the gap between us, my resolve hardening like ice. “We never talked about any such fucking thing! You told me if I agreed to entertain the idea of a possible relationship with you, I would get all of my father’s enterprises.”

“And you will . . . in time.”

“This is such bullshit!” I exclaim. “I saved your life, remember? I deserve to be treated better than this.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Well, make it simple, then,” I challenge. “Tell me the truth, Marco. No more lying.”

He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. The vulnerability that flickers across his face takes me by surprise.

“I have never fucking lied to you, and I never will.” His tone is sharp. “The truth is, there is no way the capos will let Vincent hand over all of Anthony’s more lucrative operations to a woman, even though you are his daughter. If you are going to step into the role we discussed, it will take time, and that’s all there is to it.”

Marco’s words are like a punch to my gut, stealing the breath from my lungs.

“So what? You think I’m supposed to simply accept that?” I ask, my voice strained with anger and hurt.

“It doesn’t matter if you want to accept it or not,” Marco replies quietly. “It’s the reality of the situation.”

I scoff bitterly, feeling the sting of betrayal claw at my heart. “If you never intended to hand my father’s businesses over to me, why bother pretending you want a relationship with me?”

“Jesus, you really do have trust issues, don’t you?” I can hear a thread of hurt underneath Marco’s frustration.

“I have trust issues for a reason,” I retort, my sharp voice tinged with sadness.

Marco’s gaze softens as he reaches out, his hand hovering inches from mine. “Gia, I told you I have never lied to you, and I never will. I wasn’t pretending when I told you I wanted you. I came up with the idea of the date a week for a year so that you could see over time that I mean what I say.”

My heart clenches at his words, torn between the desire to believe him and the fear of being deceived. My skin is still raw from the sting of Vincent’s betrayal.

“A year?” I repeat, my voice trembling with a mix of hope and skepticism. “And what happens after that?”

Marco’s eyes search mine, his gaze unwavering. “After that, it’s like I said. We evaluate where we stand.”

Vincent’s manipulation has shown me one thing very clearly. In this world, trust is never just given. “That’s not good enough. I need assurances of what will happen if I don’t share the same feelings at the end of the year.”

“I already told you I would make sure I take care of you. You have to be patient.”

“Yes, but how do I know you will be able to convince Vincent and the other captains?”

“Because I will,” Marco declares.

“Well, pardon me if I don’t have a lot of faith in what the men of this family say to me these days.” I look Marco squarely in the eyes. “Our first date is supposed to be this Friday.”

“And?”

“And you have until then to bring me a solid plan. One with some sort of assurances in place for me to get what’s coming to me.”

“Gia, it doesn’t work like—”

“You heard me. Don’t bother showing up if you can’t offer me that.”

Marco stares at me, his expression a mix of frustration and understanding. He runs a hand through his hair, contemplating my words. Finally, he exhales heavily and nods.

“Fine,” he concedes, his voice laced with determination. “I’ll figure it out.”

A flicker of hope ignites within me, but I remain cautious. After all, the Mafia world thrives on deception and broken promises.

“I’m serious, Marco,” I emphasize, my voice firm. “I want you to have a plan when you pick me up or don’t bother coming.”

I don’t say another word as I return to the elevator. One thing I had not thought out when I decided to head here to confront Marco was that this was Vincent’s domain. The chances of me running into him or, even worse, him and his new girlfriend were very high, and that was the last thing I needed to deal with right now.

“Gia.” Marco calls after me, but I don’t turn around. The elevator slides open, and I hear his final words. “I’ll see you Friday.”

The ride down to the lobby feels endless. As I exit, a thought crosses my mind. If Marco doesn’t devise an acceptable plan for me to gain control of what is rightfully mine, what recourse do I have? I’m not willing to walk away, but who would fight to help me keep what’s mine? It may be time for me to devise a little plan of my own.