Vengeance: DARK MAFIA ROMANCE

Twenty

Savio

When Natalia's hand first slips from mine, I assume she's tripped. The girl's inexperience with formalwear in general and heels in particular has been obvious since the first time I saw her. I turn around to help her, already imagining how I will take her back upstairs and punish her, kissing her bruises until she begs for me to take the pain away.

One glimpse of her face tells me that something is terribly wrong. Not even a deer surrounded by hunters would show such feral panic. Out of instinct, I scan the room—shit. Vincente Del Toro is waltzing up the stairs to the second floor. "Natalia." When I turn around, she's gone. I spot her limping out the front door, barely able to walk. I start to call her name a second time when I realize that I don't want to catch Vincente's attention.

The bored men lounging out front, cigarettes dangling lazily from their fingers, watch with interest as Savio's woman shoves blindly between them and takes off down the street. One of them, emboldened by anonymity, whistles. If I run after her, they're going to say that I'm keeping her captive. But I have no choice. The sun is starting to set, and Natalia has no chance in the maze of streets that crisscross Naples.

I jog after her, catching up easily and throwing my arms around her waist. To my surprise, she thrashes and scratches like a surprised cat. Letting go, I follow her as she stumbles forward again. "Natalia! Listen to me!" Can she even hear me? Her ankle turns a second time and she collapses against the stone wall next to her with a sob. Sliding to her knees, she buries her face in her hands and weeps.

I'm about to lose it; invisible enemies can't be strangled or burnt or broken. Here, I'm just like any other man. I understand the blood relationship between Vincente and Natalia, and I know that he's been stalking her, but I can't grasp what would destroy her like this. She's a strong woman, stronger than even she knows. Now she's barely human. I wasn't wrong the other day; warning her about Vincente's presence in advance would have been better. But I couldn't have imagined this

We sit there on the edge of the street for a long time. Cold air pierces my suit jacket and cobblestones dig into my rear, but she won't stop crying. It's like she's draining herself of everything she holds dear, weeping until she's just an empty shell. Eventually, I drape my jacket over her shoulders. Leaning against the wall, I stare up at the evening sky. "We're not leaving until you explain this to me," I say to the air, not sure if she's listening. "You're not alone anymore. I'm going to help you. No more secrets." Even as I speak, my hypocrisy twists painfully in my gut.

She cries for a while longer, curled up defensively. I subtly check my watch. If the meeting is after dinner, I still have about an hour before I need to start the drive. Arriving late or missing the first meeting will strip me of all my credibility and position in the negotiations. To my selfish relief, she sits up and wipes her face. Her dress is torn in several places and covered in dirt, the bun she spent so long fussing over unraveling.

"Can I touch you?" I ache for it, my hands already moving, but she shakes her head and I sit back. It hurts, going back to square one. Our tryst earlier today feels a million years away. "Tell me what's going on."

She wipes her nose with a handkerchief I pull from my pocket. Her eyes tell me that she would carry this secret to the grave if she could. But she knows that she won't make it out of here alive without my help. Wrapping her arms around herself, she starts to talk in a voice so quiet I have to lean closer to hear.

"Vincente's my uncle."

"I know."

She's caught off guard, staring at me in surprise. But she's too exhausted to push me for more information. "My mom died when I was young. My dad...he became a capo. I don't really know how or why. But my uncle betrayed him and took his place. He adopted me. I knew what he did to my father, but I didn't have anywhere safe to go. I would be killed by rival gangs, or picked up by the police and killed, when they found out who I was."