Page 78 of His Savage Vow
The dollar figure I was staring at is more money than I’ve ever had at once, and I have no idea what to do with it.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Maximo asks me again from where he’s still sitting on the bed. “You look really pale.”
I give him another half-truth. “My body just hurts. I’ll get checked out at the doctor to be sure everything is okay. Can you take me back to the estate in the morning to get my car, or have someone drive it over here? I want to see my friend Melissa for dinner and catch up with her, let her know I’m still alive.” I pick up my phone to text Melissa and make sure she’s available.
Maximo raises an eyebrow at me, but he doesn’t argue. “Of course I will. We need to go swap out our clothes again anyhow, and we have the memorial for my cousins at two tomorrow.”
I climb back into bed with Maximo as he closes his laptop and lays it on the floor. Moments later I’m wrapped in his warm embrace, trying to put all the thoughts of violent retribution and upcoming funerals out of my head.
For the first time in our relationship, I’m keeping a piece of myself separate from him and wondering if I can trust him not to use evidence of my crime against me.
And though holding back my secret from Maximo scares me, it also feels… necessary, for reasons I can’t yet fully explain to myself.
40
Constance
The next morning,Maximo orders breakfast from room service like it’s any other day, not the day we’re going to say goodbye to his cousins.
We eat in slow, distracted bites, both of us dragging our feet about leaving.
Eventually, I tell him, “We’re going to have to leave for the memorial, eventually.”
“You’re right,” he agrees, running his fingers through his black hair that’s still damp from his shower. “I’m dreading it, but we should start making our way over. What time did you say you have to be at the doctor this afternoon? Four-thirty?”
“Yes, then I’m planning to go get something to eat with my friend Melissa. She texted me back last night and said to meet her at six at Gino’s pizza, over near Monroe’s.”
“That sounds like a nice afternoon. I’ll drive us to the funeral home, then back to the estate so you can get your car.”
“Okay, thank you,” I reply. I thought Maximo would insist on coming with me or try to convince me not to go alone. I’m glad it’s not turning into an argument right before the memorial service.
When we finally leave the hotel, it’s almost noon. I sigh as I settle into the passenger seat of the black Escalade we drove over last night, sinking back into the cool leather and closing my eyes for a moment as we drive out of the parking deck and into the bright midday sun.
“I’m glad you’re going out to see a friend. You need some normalcy back in your life after everything you’ve been through the last few weeks,” Maximo says as he navigates through the crowded city streets. “It’s not good to be in your own head too much. I’ve been fighting that habit ever since my father died and I had to step into his shadow.”
“Has it always been like this? Constant violence, always looking over your shoulder, never staying still? It’s exhausting.”
“Not always. I told you about the turf war when I first took over, Castilla, the shooting, losing part of a lung. Then the Chinese tried to push in with fentanyl, but public outrage made it easy to sic the cops on them. The Russians were different. Quieter. Salvatore introduced me to Alexei Volkov about five years ago.”
“You knew the Volkovs before they murdered my father? You did business with them?” The words come out sharper than I intend.
“I knew Alexei, not his maniac nephew Kirill. Alexei Volkov wanted permission to set up a series of nightclubs in the city where he could rent out his high-end call girls. Alexei was just a pimp as far as I could tell, but as long as a businessman pays his tributes, I don’t give a damn how he earns his money.”
“But then Alexei turned their New York business enterprises over to Kirill. He was greedy and sloppy, and he endedup murdering my father.” My voice is still trembling with my emotions, and Maximo reaches over to pat my leg reassuringly.
“And my cousins, Enzo and Luca, along with several other members of my crew. He racked up one hell of a bill, and you made sure he paid it in full, didn’t you? I’m proud of you, Constance, and I know your father would be, too.”
“Thank you,” I reply. “But tell me the truth, Maximo. Is it over? Are we going to have any more trouble out of the Bratva, or Salvatore?”
“Who can say?” Maximo just shrugs, eyes on the road. He doesn’t elaborate, and his non-answer only tightens the knot already twisting in my stomach.
When we arrive at the funeral home for the memorial service, Leonard is standing outside on the front steps greeting the attendees. His face is haggard, and he looks even wearier than when we last saw him yesterday. The grief weighing him down seems to add another decade to his stooped frame.
“Maximo, Constance, thank you both for coming,” Leonard greets us as we walk up the stairs together. “If you’re hungry, your mother brought over a fruit basket and a bunch of pastries from that bakery she loves. She’s just inside setting things up and helping Phillip and Dana. They’re not handling things well. Luca was still so young…”
“I’ll go talk to them and try to offer my condolences,” Maximo replies. “How are you holding up today? You look exhausted.”
“I’m not sleeping well,” the old man admits. “Don’t worry about me though. I’ve got your mother to lean on and help me through all this. While you’re here though, I do have a question. You remember Enzo’s lieutenants, Sam Campoli, Trenton D’Angelo, and Jamie Nicolo? They stopped by the estate together last night to ask who you want overseeing operations.”
