Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Without sparing me another glance, he walks away.
I’m still standing there like an idiot when his henchman gestures for me to get in the car. Like a true gentleman, he offers me the front seat so I don’t have to ride next to the corpse. At least I have that going for me.
Ugo drives us to the private marina, where we pass through security, and the men have a brief conversation about which vessel is most suitable for the Tony situation. Between the Morettis and the Vitales, we have an entire fleet to choose from—everything from cruisers to pontoons to water taxis and super yachts. Failing all of those options, there are also seaplanes and helicopters available.
After Nicky and Ugo come to a decision, I board the Vitale catamaran and opt for the privacy of the flybridge. Even so, it does little to blunt the sound of the heavy thud Tony’s body makes when it’s tossed onto the deck below.
A few minutes pass while the men prepare, and I sit alone with my thoughts until Giulia, the Vitale stewardess, appears.
“Miss Moretti, can I offer you an aperitivo for the journey?”
“Thank you, Giulia. I would love a spritz.”
She flashes me a knowing smile before she retreats to the galley. Like me, she’s well practiced at the art of dissociation. When she returns, she serves me an Aperol spritz and a plate of olives, crisps, cheese, and salami. I thank her and settle in for the forty-five-minute journey to Black Stag Island, mentally checking out as I enjoy my drink.
Halfway through, the vessel slows momentarily before there’s a splash, and we continue onward. I don’t have to look back to know Tony’s on his way to the bottom of Puget Sound.
I close my eyes, and a thousand scattered thoughts compete for my attention. At the forefront of my mind is Angelo’s return. He’s the heir to the Vitale legacy, and that changes everything. Now that he’s free, the burden of maintaining the Stavros treaty will fall upon him as soon as his father passes. It will be his responsibility to marry, rather than Matteo’s, which explains why he’s already secured an engagement.
As I recall his parting remark, I wonder if his other plans are related to the woman he chose.
Against my better judgment, I take out my phone and pull up Matteo’s contact. Angelo warned me not to tell him about our paths crossing, but that doesn’t mean things can continue as they are. We need to have a conversation and find a way to call off this wedding before I’m exiled from the state.
I send him a text telling him we need to talk, and he reads my message, but again, he doesn’t respond. Since he popped up and forced my hand into this marriage, I haven’t even seen him. He’s ignoring me, and yet, I know he’s been getting back to Valentina regarding all her questions for the wedding. It’s really starting to grate on me. Matteo has always been conflict-avoidant, but this is just childish.
I type out at least ten additional texts before deleting or rewording them, trying to figure out what to say to get his attention.
“I wouldn’t do that, Miss Moretti. Boss won’t like it.”
I jump in my seat as I turn to find Nicky lurking over my shoulder.
“I didn’t tell him about Angelo,” I mutter. “Why are you spying on me?”
“It’s my job.” He shrugs. “Boss’s orders. I’m your guard until he says otherwise.”
“My guard?” I stare at him incredulously. “I already have a guard, and my father isn’t just going to let you waltz into the house. You do know that, right?”
“No offense, but your guard is on his way out to the Pacific right about now,” he answers with a chuckle. “Don’t worry about the logistics with your father. I’ve got it handled.”
I stuff my phone back into my purse and save my breath on an argument. I don’t know this man, but that makes little difference. All I need to know is he’s here to do his boss’s bidding. And if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that when Angelo gives his men an order, it’s always executed.
8
ANGELO
In the six years since I left Black Stag Island, little has changed.
Through ancestral heritage, the eighteen-hundred-acre property was divided among the Vitales, the Stavros, and the Morettis—before there was bad blood between the three families. It boasts dramatic shorelines, sandy beaches, rocky bluffs, and unparalleled mountain and water views. A dense copse of trees offers privacy from the world outside, and within, a small army of guards patrols the land day and night.
The island is equipped with independent power and water systems, a helipad, paved roads, and yacht slips. It’s long been regarded as a self-sustaining fortress by those fortunate enough to visit, but to me it has always been home.