Page 100 of Twisted Vows

“No.” She looks down at those stilettos, sadness clouding her face. “But I might be the last.”

For a heartbeat, silence hums between us.

Izzy approaches, her perfume curling into the night. “You know what they’re saying inside? That your heart isn’t clean enough to lead anymore. That a woman made you sloppy.”

Heat shoots up my spine, the flash of anger sharp enough to taste. I force my hands to stay loose at my sides. She wants a reaction, wants proof she’s hit the nerve dead-on…and she has. The truth stings worse than the insult. Izzy’s fingers trail down her phone, her nails painted the color of old blood. “I told Sophia about you. About your past. The lovers. The headlines.”

Something fractures inside me, and a numbing cold spreads through, like ice under my skin.

“You what?”

Izzy’s eyes glint with triumph. “She deserves the truth. Someone had to tell her about the string of women who came before, the ones you rescued, bedded, and discarded when they got too close. The way you kept me on a leash for years, calling it protection. That you save women the same way you cage them. That you can’t love without ownership.”

My pulse spikes. For a second, instinct urges me to grab her and shake the smugness out of her. But she clearly wants that kind of reaction.

Instead, I breathe. A slow, deliberate inhale that tastes like rust. “You talk too much.”

“And you act too stupidly.”

She keeps the smile in place until I walk past her. I don’t look back. Don’t tell her off. I’ve known Izzy for a long time, and shouting won’t accomplish anything.

Inside, the great hall blazes with light, cigar smoke and whiskey thick in the air.

Every Capo in the Benedetti circle is here…old men playing gods, with their rings flashing like medals for unpunished sins. I can see the men’s fear disguised as bravado.

Gabi presides at the head. He’s wearing a tailored shirt, his eyes sharp as switchblades. “Enzo. Glad you survived.”

“Would’ve sent a postcard, but I was a little tied up.” I approach him.

A few chuckle. Most don’t.

I stand before all of them, bruised and bandaged but still breathing. Every eye in the room weighs me. Calculating whether I’m still useful.

Gabi gestures. “You went to Miami without sanction. You risked exposure. Explain yourself.”

I offer no apology as I face Gabi head-on. “Vincent Martinelli has surfaced. And he’s not working alone. He’s building ties with the Volkovs. Maybe others. I went to pull him out before it spread.”

“Hmm.” Near the back, Izzy shifts in her seat, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. “Instead, you were taken.”

The men murmur. The analysis begins. Faces shift and alliances rebalance in real time.

I don’t blink. “I was taken, and I escaped. The message was clear. Vincent isn’t hiding. He’s recruiting. The Volkovs are testing our borders.”

Gabi exhales, his eyes narrowing. “I’m well aware of Vincent’s actions. But you acted without authority. I will not tolerate that.”

I meet his stare and let the silence become threatening.

“Authority hesitates,” I respond. “War doesn’t.”

The line cuts the air like a knife. For a moment, silence reigns.

Then Izzy, feigning patience, says, “It’s not war yet, Enzo. It’s business. You made it personal because of her.”

Her. Sophia.

I meet Izzy’s stare. “You think I’d risk my life for love?”

“Wouldn’t you?” She juts out her chin.