Page 19 of Vows of Silence

Still no typing bubble.

“Take your time, I’m not in a rush…” I muttered, leaning back in the chair and fiddling around with the ends of my hair, looking for split ends as I waited.

It was when I was glancing up at my phone to see if Luca had replied that I noticed the envelope.

“Hey,” I said, sitting up, my heart beginning to race. “There’s an envelope hidden under the monitor here.” I grabbed it and pulled out the contents, my heart hammering at a dangerous level.

“What the fuck…” I breathed, seeing a picture of my dad shaking hands with none other than Rafael Falcone.

I pulled out the piece of paper, reading the title, “Isabelle Carbone Marriage Agreement”.

“No way. No fucking way,” I said, ripping it out with shaking hands.

Luca:Isabelle. Hide.

“What?”

Luca:No time to put things back. Grab everything you can and fucking hide. Now. Your dad’s not alone.

Feeling sick to my stomach, I grabbed everything I could, snatching up my phone and running towards the secret room.

Luca:Not there, Isabelle. Trust me.

“I don’t have many other options, Luca!” I snapped, feeling the panic rise up my body until it was choking me.

The only other place was…

“Is a meeting at this time of night really necessary?” My dad’s voice came from down the hallway. My wild eyes glanced at the door, just in time to see the code turn red, indicating it had been locked for me, and the next thing I knew I was on my stomach and sliding under one of the leather couches.

Ridiculous fucking hiding place, but it’s all I had.

God help me.

Chapter 7

The Flame

“And this really couldn’t have waited until the morning? It was necessary to drag me out of bed after everything that happened this evening?” My dad complained, his voice coming closer with every word.

I pressed myself flatter to the floor, clutching the envelope, photograph, and marriage agreement to my chest like they could somehow shield me from what was coming. My phone was face down beside me, the screen dimmed, my messages with Luca still open.

I didn’t dare touch it.

I didn’t dare breathe.

“Necessary?” a rough voice replied, and every drop of blood in my body turned to ice. “You make a deal with the Vescari boy behind my back, fuck up a simple shipment, and now you’re asking me if this meeting is necessary?”

Rafael Falcone.

I recognised the voice instantly. Everyone did. Even people who had never met Rafael Falcone knew the voice. It was the kind of voice people lowered their own around. Gravelly, old, cruel, and soaked in so many years of violence that it was a wonder the walls didn’t start bleeding just from hearing it.

“And then we find out you’ve been having family meals with the boy.”

“He is marrying my daughter—”

“And yet you fucking owe me! Let’s not pretend the marriage is anything more than it is, Vittorio!”

What the fuck?