Defiant Vows

Chapter Thirty-One

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

VIVIANA

I wake in an unfamiliar room. For a moment, I don’t understand why I’m not in bed at the penthouse, curled tight against Luc’s familiar body, his arm draped heavy over me. Then, I remember.

Elenora’s note. The phone call. The absolute shock and joy upon seeing her, alive. The betrayal…

She stabbed me with a syringe. She stood over me while someone shot Lex and I faded into unconsciousness. My sister attacked me, and the only explanation she offered was ‘ I’m sorry, Vivi. I love him.’

Who? Luc? Someone else? My head hurts too much to consider the possibilities.

I blink a few times, allowing my eyes to adjust to the absolute darkness. I’m tied to a chair, my wrists bound by some coarse rope that digs into skin and bone. They tied my ankles in a similar manner. Concrete surrounds me on all sides, and a faint luminescent light shines from a crack beneath the only door in the room. The moon?

I wiggle, testing the restraints. My muscles ache. How long have I been here? Hours? Days? I don’t know what the hell Elenora shot into my neck, but my head still feels fuzzy and tired. It must’ve been strong, whatever it was.

Scanning my body for any further injuries, I discover that I’m wearing the same clothes as when I was taken. A small mercy, I suppose, though it seems I wet my pants while I slept. My jeans are cold and wet, and it vaguely smells like urine. Beyond a few sore muscles, I’m unscathed.

When I look up again, I find a single red light blinking across the room. Narrowing my eyes, I realize it’s a video camera pointed straight at me, recording. A security camera live-streaming my movements? Or perhaps they’re making a ransom video for Luc. Does he even know I’m gone?

Regardless, it proves I’m not alone here. Someone is watching.

Panic ratchets up my body, and I struggle more against the bindings. A strange cocktail of adrenaline and the remnants of the drug in my system causes my heart to pound furiously against my ribcage, and every thud-thud-thud feels like it might break through my chest.

I need to get out.

I’m not so disillusioned to think that I can escape on my own. Twenty minutes of yoga every other day hasn’t done me any favors in regard to my physical prowess. Somehow, I’ll have to convince them to let me go.

“ Elenora! ” My voice comes out as a rasp, my throat raw and painfully dry.

Get your ass in here, you conniving bitch! I bite back the words, no matter how much I want to scream them. The sting of Elenora’s betrayal hurts, but it’s numbed by the fear rising inside of me like the tide. Maybe if I get out of this cell alive, I’ll take time to lament my older sister’s treachery.

“Elenora!” I call again, louder this time. Though every fiber in my body recoils at the thought of it, I decide to stroke her ego. I beg. “ Elenora— please! ”

A shadow appears beneath the door frame. My pulse quickens at the sound of locks turning, followed by the quiet creak of rusty hinges. The door opens, and Elenora’s slim body steps into my cement block from a dimly lit hallway.

“You’re awake.” She rushes forward, eyebrows drawn in concern, and crouches to investigate the spot on my neck where she stabbed me with the needle. Her fingertips graze the tender bruise, shockingly gentle. “How are you feeling?”

I try to yank away from her touch and nearly tip my chair over in the process. “Don’t pretend to care.”

She recoils like I slapped her, that line between her finely manicured brows deepening. “Of course I care, Viviana. You’re my sister.”

What the hell? Is this the same woman that ambushed me in a bookstore?

I scoff. “Is that why you have me tied to a chair and locked in this room?”

She sighs. “That wasn’t up to me. I’m sorry about that.”

I almost believe her. Almost.

“Why?” I whisper, shaking my head. “Why are you doing this? Why didn’t you tell us you were alive?”

Elenora’s throat bobs up and down, and she lifts a slender shoulder. “It’s like I told you. I love him. This was the only way to help him.”

My head starts hurting more as I try to make sense of her words. If I could move my hands, I’d grab her by the shoulders and shake her. “Kidnapping me and holding me hostage is the only way to help— who ? Luc?” I scoff. “You love him and want him back, is that it?”

“Luciano?” Elenora clarifies with a laugh. “No. No, of course not.”

I blink, tilting my chin back to better see my sister’s face. “ Who , Elenora?”

She opens her mouth, but any explanation is snatched from her tongue as a new shadow looms in the doorway.

“Ah, I’m quite pleased to see you’re awake,” a vaguely familiar male tenor hums. “Welcome back to Chicago, Mrs. Venturi.”

Chicago. Dread pierces me so deep I feel it in my stomach. Though I already know who stares at me from the doorway, I crane my neck to confirm.

Nathaniel, Aldo Fiorentino’s bastard son, stares back at me. An arrogant grin stretches his sharp, bony features. In the darkness, he looks even less like his father and brother than I remember—like an off-brand dupe.

So he told the truth when he said that Elenora and Massimo were in cahoots. Massimo lied to Luc, and now he’s using me to get to my husband. I feel sick.

My lip curls in disgust. “What the hell is this?”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” Nathaniel croons, though his eyes spark with excitement. “Please don’t take it personally. This is simply business.”

Business. I snort and roll my eyes. My gaze falls on Elenora again. “What? One boss wasn’t enough for you? You had to fuck Massimo, too. You faked a car accident so you could be with him?”

She blinks, the briefest flash of surprise before she schools an expressionless mask into place once more. I make no attempt to hide my disgust. My disappointment.

“I used to think you were the smartest woman alive. You were going to rule the Cosa Nostra by Luc’s side. And now you’ve allowed yourself to become a pawn in their game.”

Unable to bear the sight of her a moment longer, I turn back to Nathaniel. “And you … Was your brother angry that you almost ousted him?”

Luc never should’ve believed Massimo’s lies. For all my husband’s wonderful qualities, he’s too trusting. Too willing to put his faith in another man’s honor.

Nathaniel barks a laugh. “Oh no, I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Mrs. Venturi. My half-brother doesn’t know you’re here.”

I stiffen. He’s far too satisfied in himself to be lying. I look between the pair. Elenora shifts to stand beside Nathaniel, hovering just a fraction of an inch behind his shoulder. Suddenly, it seems so obvious. An incredulous laugh rips from my throat.

“You’re not fucking the boss,” I laugh, willing as much poison into my words as possible. I’ve abandoned any hope of appealing to my pretentious sister. She’s too far gone, and anger pumps hot through my veins. “You’re fucking the bastard. ”

With startling speed, Elenora steps forward and strikes me across the cheek. A thousand needle pricks erupt where her palm makes contact, but it doesn’t hurt as badly as I remember. The adrenaline in my blood makes me reckless, and I continue to laugh.

“Shut your mouth,” Elenora warns, and she takes a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back until I’m forced to look at her. Pain splinters at my scalp. “You know nothing.”

My fit of laughter fades, but I still manage a small, sympathetic smile. Despite the discomfort at the back of my head, I shake my head. “You love him. You faked your death to be with him. And now you’ve kidnapped your sister for him.” Cocking a brow, I hold my sister’s gaze. “What else is there to know?”

“For starters—” Nathaniel interjects, and his slow, lazy footsteps approach. His face rises behind Elenora’s shoulder. “What we plan on doing with you.”

“Yes, do tell me why you shot me up with drugs and tied me up in your basement,” I coo. I don’t know where I found the bravado. “Ransom? Need some quick cash to pay for your honeymoon? I’m afraid you overestimated how much Luciano likes my company. He won’t pay you a dime.”

Months ago, perhaps, that would’ve been true. But now…

He chuckles. “Please, don’t lie to us. Your husband couldn’t keep his hands off of you during your visit to Chicago. It’s clear as day that the man loves you. He loves you to a fault. It’s made him weak. Pathetic. ”

My heart simultaneously swells and shrivels, because I know his words are true. Even though Luc and I never said those three words to one another, I felt it in every tender kiss and doting touch. I knew it by the way he texted me to ask how my day was. The way he held me after a bout of lovemaking and wanted to build me an art studio in our home. But we never said it, and now I might never get the chance.

Swallowing down the lump of emotion in my throat, I shoot Nathaniel a bitter smile and nod toward Elenora. “Bold words from the man whose lover stands right next to him. Are you pathetic for loving my sister?”

He scarcely spares Elenora a second glance, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “The only thing I love…” His hot breath fans the side of my neck, and I shudder. “Is the thought of my half-brother and your husband ripping each other apart. I won’t even need to lift a finger.”

Though I can’t see her face with Nathaniel pressing in so close, Elenora’s grip on my hair loosens at the venom in his words. It tightens again a few beats later, even harder than before.

I lean as far away from him as the chair and restraints allow, desperate for a glimpse at Elenora’s face. Her features are hard, her jaw tight, but a silver sheen glosses over the surface of her eyes. She’s upset despite her attempts to hide it.

I level my glare at Nathaniel again, subtly tugging at the rope behind my back. “Why?”

“War,” he answers, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

He steps away, neatly folding his arms behind his back as he begins circling my chair. I try to follow him with my gaze, but Elenora’s grip keeps my neck straight. He disappears behind me, though the patter of footsteps on concrete continues.

“War?” I prompt, unnerved by my inability to see him.

Nathaniel hums, bored by the conversation. “It’s the surest way to kill a king. You see, when your beloved husband discovers that you’ve been taken by Chicago, he’ll launch an attack on my father and brother unlike anything the Outfit has seen in decades. If anyone can kill Massimo, it is Luciano Venturi with the power of the Cosa Nostra behind him.”

A cold flush douses my fury.

Nathaniel wants the Outfit. He’ll make Luc believe that Massimo ordered my kidnapping, and the resulting war will reduce both organizations to ash and rubble.

My lip curls in a snarl. “You want my husband to attack your half-brother because you’re too weak to beat him yourself?” I barely recognize my own coarse laughter. “So you’re a bastard and a coward.”

Despite Elenora’s death-grip on my hair, I wrench my head to the side and spit on the ground, as close to Nathaniel’s shoes as I can manage. My sister yanks my head back so forcefully that I feel the hair rip from my scalp in a chunk, and a cry rips from my throat.

“Careful, Elenora,” Nathaniel chides her, clucking three times like he’s reprimanding a schoolgirl. “We want to save her screams.”

“The Outfit will never follow you,” I seethe, salty tears springing from the corners of my eyes. “Massimo’s son is heir. They’ll hand it to a six year old over a half-blood like you. You’re a fool if you think otherwise.”

I hardly believe my own words, but I’ve met enough men like Nathaniel—power-hungry and prideful—to know that he’ll take each jab to heart. I need him to snap. Men tend to make mistakes when they’re angry. That will be my chance to escape.

Behind me, Nathaniel moves. I hear him before I feel him.

Something sharp and cold presses against my exposed neck. I realize it’s a knife when he digs the blade into the skin directly above my jugular.

“I should just kill you now,” he growls, practically panting in my ear. “You’ll still serve your purpose, even if you’re dead.”

“ Nathaniel,” Elenora warns, and I’m shocked by the fear in her voice. Her grip on my hair loosens, but I don’t dare let my neck relax. Not with the blade pressed so tightly against it.

Silence settles over the room, just long enough for my bowels to turn to water. Then, with a long sigh, Nathaniel removes the knife from my throat. “You’re lucky. Your sister said she’d be quite upset if you died. My life is easier if I keep her happy.”

As soon as the icy blade lifts from my throat, I sag in the chair and a pitiful sound slips from my lips. Then again. I’m crying. I hate the display of weakness. I hate that my confidence and strength wavered the moment Nathaniel’s threats became real.

“Of course,” he drawls, and I hear rummaging on a table behind me. “My dear Elenora said nothing about torture, and we need to get Luciano’s attention somehow.”

A quick, loud buzz erupts behind me, and, for the first time in my life, palpable fear rakes its poisoned talons over my psyche. I know what it is, even though I’ve never heard one in person before. A cattle prod.

Desperation takes hold. I start thrashing against my restraints, tears blurring my vision as my wrists warp and twist into unnatural positions to escape the ropes. A disturbing pop fills the room, and pain splinters from my left wrist, but it is free. One more to go. I can do it. I’ll break both wrists if I have to—

“ Viviana!” Elenora calls, dropping to her knees beside me. She rests her hands on my tear and snot-stained cheeks, holding me still. “ Stop it. You’re going to be okay. I promise. We only need the one video. It’ll be quick.”

There’s a tenderness in her eyes that shouldn’t be possible considering the treachery of her betrayal. I can hear it in her voice that she truly believes I’ll survive. That Nathaniel won’t slit my throat the moment he receives what he wants from me. For a moment, I can’t understand how my sister—brave, strong, bad-ass Elenora Russo—could’ve been so deceived by a man.

But she said it herself. She loves him, and love changes a person.

Sobs rack my body now, and, faced with no other choice, I appeal to the woman I once knew. The older sister who teased me, who braided my hair and tried to teach me cursive. The girl who loved me once, in her own twisted sort of way.

“Elenora, please,” I whisper, hiccuping. “You have to help me. I’m pregnant.”

A lie. A dirty, rotten lie born of absolute desperation. Because, if my sister’s unwilling to help me, perhaps she’ll help her unborn niece or nephew.

Elenora flinches. The whites of her eyes expand, and her gaze drops to my stomach. “Vivi—”

Nathaniel laughs, pure evil echoing off the concrete walls and flooring. The cattle prod buzzes again, like he’s testing the voltage. “I have Luciano Venturi’s wife and his heir? What luck!”

He rounds the chair, face to face with me at last, and extends the cattle prod until it rests centimeters away from my belly button. “Imagine what he’ll do to Massimo if we send him a video of his future child becoming a bloody puddle of pulp on the floor.”

Nausea rolls up my throat, and my shoulders quake as I fight against the urge to heave up the contents of my stomach. I’m not pregnant—at least, I don’t think I am— but the terror his words evoke runs deep.

He presses the cattle prod into my belly, and the prongs dig into the skin directly above where my child would be growing. It’s some small mercy, I suppose, that I’m not actually pregnant. His fingers hover above the little red switch, and I clamp my eyes shut.

“I love you, Luc.”

I whisper the words into the darkness, fully aware that he may never hear it on the recording. I don’t care. I just needed to say it. To taste the truth on my tongue at least once.

Now, I decide, I’m ready for the pain.