Page 49 of Vicious Secrets
Tears well in my eyes. “Siro’s been good to me since day one. You don’t have to worry. I promise.”
Mom’s face turns red, and her lips twist into a sneer. “Your husband was born to manipulate! He sent his goons after us, claimingwemanipulated you. Your husband demanded I stop contacting you—my daughter, my only child. That’s abuse, Robyn!”
My heart’s beats are so loud I swear they’re echoing inside my skull and flattening the room’s noise to the point it feels wrought with tension. A part of me hopes Mom’s telling the truth about Siro sending his men after her and Oscar. In a twisted way, it’s a sweet gesture.
But I can’t stomach asking the question burning the tip of my tongue. Mom’s a step away from admitting she knew the full truth of Oscar’s debt, and I don’t want confirmation.
A large shadow casts over Mom and me. It moves along the back of the couch. The room and everyone in it falls further to the wayside as I turn toward its source.
Oh, no, Fabi. What have you done?
Siro leans over the back of the couch and kisses the crown of my head. Straightening up, he smooths a hand over my hair to the base of my skull and tilts my head. The corners of his lips turn up into a soft smile. “Sorry to interrupt; a charge nurse called me. They said they couldn’t get a hold of you. You’re needed at the ER.”
The excuse is perfect, and I know he’s using it because I asked for calm. My heart soars, snapping back into place and hammering against my sternum with enough might to crack the bone. Siro’s straight-leg black suit pants stretching taut over his muscular thighs and his crisp, gray blazer add to the swirling mixture of competing emotions wreaking havoc on my brain.
“Shit, thanks.” I nod and stand up a bit too fast. Siro’s tall enough that he stabilizes me with his arm before I make it around the couch. I look down at Mom as he pulls me against his side. “Sorry, Mom. I have to go.”
Her eyes narrow as she turns her body to face us. Her upper lip catches on her teeth as her mouth opens.
“So, Robyn, with a two-week engagement, how soon can we expect a baby shower invitation?” My uncle says from across the room. His teeth are stained with wine or cranberry. Whichever, he’s clearly tipsy and doesn’t pick up on the tense atmosphere.
Scanning the room, I notice all of the guests appear to have stained teeth or lips and are on various levels of intoxication. Siro and I haven’t discussed kids yet. The soothing feeling brought on by Siro’s sudden appearance dies in a flash. Why does everything about tonight feel off-kilter?
I chuckle and adjust the strap of my bag as I debate how rudely I want to respond.
Mom beats me to it. “Don’t you remember, Charlie? She got her tubes tied two years ago as a birthday present.”
With Siro’s talk of succession and worries about his family name falling from grace, my dumb ass should have been honest with him weeks ago. He’s given me repeat, perfect opportunities to do so over dinners. There’s no excuse for my avoidance of the topic.
Siro pulls me flush against his side and guides us toward the exit. Is this still a rescue mission? Or am I being led to my doom? To get an answer, all I have to do is be brave and look at his face. But I’m fresh out of courage.
“I cried for days, Siro. Mourned all the babies I wouldn’t get to spoil and snuggle.”
He stops us on the threshold between the living room and foyer and angles his body perpendicular to mine with his arm still around me. “Do you need another reminder of who rules the west coast? If I hear you disrespect your daughter again”—the fingers of his free hand jab the air over my shoulder as he speaks—“there will be consequences.”
The venom dripping in his voice should terrify me. The jerking movements of his hand convey unimaginable threats against my own flesh and blood that should make me defensive. Neither of those emotions hit me. No, instead, a bubble of relief pops inside of me. Even if he’s pissed, he’s still defending me.
Fabi appears before us, opening and slamming closed doors as he helps with our hasty exit.
“I’ll meet you at my place, Fabi,” he says as we pass Fabi’s car.
“Roger that, Boss.”
Chapter 15
Robyn
Iletoutashaky breath and clutch my hands at my front as I walk in tandem with Siro onto the unlit part of the street. Ten feet in front of us, a shadow shifts behind a car and becomes a dark figure. I gasp and throw my shoulder into Siro’s chest.
“It’s alright. It’s Ari or Vittore.” Siro rubs my hip and waist and holds me tighter as he continues to lead me on.
“That’s the asshole who shot out the street lights,” a male voice grumbles from behind us.
The dark figure snickers. “Only in case we needed more cover.”
Ari and Vittore don’t follow us to Siro’s car. He lets go of me as he fishes out his key fob, and I climb into the front passenger seat. Siro drives off like a bat out of hell, and I’m thankful for it. I want this night to be over.
“A Boss, a Capo, and an Enforcer. What part of ‘no shootout’ did Fabi not understand?” I sink back into the seat and let my eyes drift closed. Even if Siro’s pissed at me for keeping secrets, I know I’m safe.
