Crimson Vows: A Dark Mafia Romance

Chapter 22

Exiting from the warehouse, I move slowly, waiting for Dante and Nico to leave the parking lot before I approach Marco. He stands near his black sedan, his eyes fixed on me and his face curious. He doesn’t move as I approach him.

“I really am sorry I put that stupid idea into Dante’s head. That was the night you told me Vincent had lied about me being the one to actually end my father’s life, and I was so fucking angry,” I tell him, stopping a mere breath away from him.

“I know,” he says, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to yell at you in there. I know it wasn’t your intention for things to happen this way.”

“Do you think Amelia will actually help us?” I ask, afraid of the answer.

Marco hesitates, wrestling with the words. “I-I told you. I don’t know what she’s going to say.”

“Stop it. I can tell there’s something you don’t want to say,” I press, needing to hear the truth, however bitter.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answers.

“Don’t you dare do that,” I warn.

“Do what?”

“Hide shit from me,” I snap. “You swore to me you would never lie to me, and I can tell you’re not saying something. Now, what is it?”

He presses his lips together, staring back at me. “I don’t want you to hate me.”

My stomach sinks in response to his words. I can’t imagine what he could have done that would make him think I could hate him, but the truth is, I don’t know for certain what he’s capable of. Our bond was forged in a vacuum where assumptions were made about each other. At the end of the day, I could be completely wrong about the man standing in front of me. “It will hurt more if you keep things from me.”

He bows his head and exhales a breath slowly. “Okay. I need you to understand that my job as consigliere is to advise Vincent based on the information in front of me.”

“Marco, what did you do?”

He swallows hard and looks away from me as he continues to speak. “When we found out your father was conspiring against Vincent, he asked me for my advice.”

I hold my breath as Marco’s words hang heavy between us. Marco’s eyes search mine, seeking understanding, seeking forgiveness. “And?” I press, even though I’m confident the words he is about to say will sting.

“We had no choice,” Marco whispers, his voice thick with regret. “Vincent... he had to make an example of Anthony so nobody else would dare try something in the future. I told Vincent your father needed to be removed.”

Removed. The word made it sound so innocent. The reality was he advised Vincent that my father should be murdered. If Marco hadn’t said that, would Vincent never do what he did? Did he end his life after we left the boat that night because he trusted in Marco’s advice? Was this man standing before me partially responsible for his death?

Tears blur my vision as anger bubbles within me. I clench my fists at my sides, staring at Marco. I’ve already made peace with the fact my father’s choices were what led to his ultimate demise. What hurts me is he is only now sharing this with me.

I shake my head. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I thought it was the bullet from the gun you fired that night that killed your father,” he explains. “I didn’t see what good telling you any of that would do.”

“Fine, so why are you telling me now?” I ask, looking at Marco’s face, trying to reconcile the images of the man who advised my father be executed with the man I agreed to marry because of how fiercely he cared for me. It’s hard to fathom they are one and the same.

“Because there is no reason Vincent would listen to anything I have to say about this situation. I already advised him on what to do in this exact situation. I told him your father needed to die if he wanted to retain power. He will know he has to do the same now.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I argue, trying not to focus on the revelation that Marco’s hands were not completely clean when it came to my father’s death. “You are his consigliere and his cousin. There has to be a deeper desire to believe what you say to be true. Why even talk to Amelia if you think none of this matters?”

“Because I have to try,” he answers honestly. “But Amelia understands the dangers as much as I did when I told Vincent your father had to be dealt with. I can’t see why she would advise him any differently about me.”

His confession sends a jolt of reality through me. “Then we need another plan. I’m not going to lie down and let the King family destroy everyone I care about.”

“I told you, there is no way we can win against Vincent.”

I grab Marco’s hand. “We could run,” I say, surprising even myself.

Marco’s eyes widen, a flicker of hope before the shadows reclaim it. “Run?” he echoes, gripping my hand in return.

I nod. “You asked me if I ever dreamed of walking away from all of this.”

“That was just talk.”

“Well, I have my passport, and cash is waiting in a safety deposit box that my father set up. It’s probably enough for us to get far away from all of this and start over.”

He searches my face, the idea tempting him for just a heartbeat. Then I can see on his face when reality crashes back.

“Gia,” Marco says, his words heavy with a warning. “You know Vincent will hunt us down. If he finds us...” He swallows hard.

My pulse quickens, but I don’t let go of his hand. “Maybe, but if we stay and you’re right, your fate will be the same. At least we have a chance with running.”

He is quiet as he considers my proposal. As I stand waiting for an answer, I wonder what I will do if Vincent won’t listen to reason and Marco refuses to run. Would I leave without him? Am I strong enough to be on my own, always looking over my shoulder?

“If I stay, I can tell them you had no part in any of this. I think I can convince Vincent of at least that.”

My face is instantly hot. “No! Absolutely not. This is insane!” I cry out in frustration. “Fuck! All of this is nuts. You didn’t do anything. We were only talking. You were the one who said you would never betray Vincent. He can’t kill you for being loyal.”

“Maybe you’re right.” His voice is low, haunted. “There’s a chance I’m completely overreacting, and Vincent will understand it was all a misunderstanding. But I can’t take that gamble if there is a chance your life is on the line.”

I reach out, my fingers brushing Marco’s arm as he prepares to leave. “I don’t care if I always have to be looking over my shoulder. If running is our only option, that is what we do.”

“You won’t ever be able to speak to anyone you know. We would have to become invisible to even have a chance of surviving,” Marco tells me as if I’m not already fully aware of what a life on the run would look like.

I nod. “I know. Whatever it takes, we all survive. That’s the only option. You talk to Amelia while I clean out my safety deposit box. If you get the slightest hint that things are not going the way we hoped, I want you to promise me we’ll leave together immediately.”

He pauses, the muscle in his jaw clenching. His eyes meet mine. “Gia, Dante and Nico will be in just as much danger if we run.”

“Then we take them with us,” I say matter-of-factly.

Marco scoffs before realizing I’m serious about my demand. He reaches out, wrapping me in an embrace. His lips find mine, desperation mingling with passion in a kiss that steals my breath.

“I love you,” he whispers against my mouth, the words vibrating like a lifeline.

“I love you too,” I reply, feeling the sting of tears I refuse to shed. A pit of uncertainty forms in my stomach, and I need him to confirm our plan to put me at ease. “If you can’t sway Amelia to help, does that mean all four of us can leave together?”

He offers me a soft smile. “It means I love you.”

“Marco—”

He lifts a finger to my lips and silences me. “If it will make you feel better, pack a go-bag, empty your safety deposit box, and wait for my call. I’m going to do everything I can to fix this for all of us, okay?”

I want to press, to tell him I need to hear from him we will get the four of us out together. But I’m silent as I stand there. With one last look, Marco climbs into his car. I stand there as he starts the engine, and with one last smile at me, I watch as he pulls away and the car disappears from sight.

I turn on my heel, determination propelling me forward. Time is slipping, and with it, our chance at surviving this. Maybe Marco had a point when he said he might be overthinking this. Perhaps Vincent would simply admonish him for letting the conversation get out of control and tell him he should have addressed things sooner. If that isn’t the case, though, time won’t be on our side.

I drive to the bank and park my car before exiting and approaching the building. The fluorescent lights are harsh and sterile when I burst through the glass doors, and I squint against their glare. My hand is steady as I present my key to the teller, a facade of calm over the turmoil churning inside me.

After I’m escorted into the vault, I make quick work of emptying the box’s contents into my purse. Back outside, I place the bag on the seat next to me, its weight a tangible reminder of the stakes. Doubts slither through my mind like shadows creeping across the pavement.

The thought of abandoning Nico and Dante claws at me. I know Marco is thinking the same thing. It’ll make everything more complicated and more dangerous if four of us travel together, yet the idea of leaving them to fend for themselves if shit hits the fan isn’t a burden I can carry every day for the rest of my life.

“Please let this work,” I whisper, desperation gripping me as I cling to the hope Marco can secure an ally in Amelia.