Chapter 6: Veiled Vows: Chapter 6

She’s beautiful.

I’d be disowned for admitting such a thing, and likely killed for saying it out loud, but she is.

Jasmine Falzone is beautiful. Possibly one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in my life.

Her eyes are deep blue and sparkle like the alluring depths of the deep ocean. Her skin, golden brown and warm to the touch, sends jolts of excitement through me as I press her body as firmly as I can to the back of the closet. Her brown hair drifts down across the back of my hand as she shakes her head, the strands like silk kissing my knuckles.

And her lips. Even hidden behind my palm, I can feel how plump and thick they are. Never mind the gorgeous curves of her body accentuated by the tight lines of her stunning dress. I suspect such a move was intentional, given how shrewd her father can be. Bringing his only daughter to a party like this and making sure she’s dressed against the color scheme. He wants to be noticed, and given the voices filling the room outside, it’s working.

I can’t see them.

My entire attention is on Jasmine and how I can see every single dark lash resting against her cheek when she closes her eyes. Her floral perfume invades my lungs with each breath, and her fingers are like claws digging into my waist as she holds on to me. I was a second away from a knee to the balls if those people hadn’t entered the room.

But the last thing either of us needs is to be caught somewhere we shouldn’t be. Many have died for much less.

Her hot breath rushes over my pinky as she opens her eyes, glaring daggers at me, but I don’t remove my hand. There’s no space to risk any kind of movement, so Jasmine’s body is pressed firmly against mine, and my bulk takes up any other available space. It would be incredibly erotic if not for the fact that the people outside are talking about us.

“I choose the Gattis,” says one voice. “I have an ongoing deal with them.”

“I have a deal with the Falzones,” comes another voice. “Don’t try and stand there and tell me yours is more important.”

“I’m not saying that,” says the first voice. “But mine is older.”

“It hardly counts,” says a third voice. “And it hardly matters. I have had too many phone calls about their feud spilling onto territories and into families that want nothing to do with them. And frankly, I’m tired of it.”

“It never should have been allowed to go on this long,” speaks a fourth voice. “We’ve given them too much freedom. A war like this is only good when the victor actually comes out on top. They are two underdogs snapping at each other like rabid animals. We kill one, uplift the other, and send a message at the same time. Disputes cannot be allowed this much attention.”

“Especially not when they attract constant unwanted eyes from the cops,” says the first voice.

“Even the Russians are making comments,” says the third.

“Enough.” A sultry, feminine voice brings an abrupt end to the discussion. “The feud between the Falzones and the Gattis has been given too much space. I will not allow it for a second longer. I want them both gone. Take them out quickly and divide their assets between more prominent, deserving families. I want this sorted by the end of the month.”

As the conversation moves on to other business matters, my mind runs into overdrive. While I can’t place the names of the people speaking behind me, it’s very clear that they’re members of the Mancini family, and our feud has caught their attention for all the wrong reasons. There are few families big enough to make a decision like this, but once that order is given, there will be nothing left.

My family will be killed. I will be killed, and all chance I have at revenge will go up in smoke.

Could I warn my father? No. As soon as anyone caught wind of me knowing something I shouldn’t, I’d be hanged for being a spy or worse. No one betrays a Mancini. Not if you value your life. Even those who have tried haven’t been safe here or in other countries.

My heart pounds like a drum, battering against my ribs as my stomach twists into knots. I feel sick. What the fuck am I supposed to do?

Maybe I should take care of the Falzones myself. Rid us of the problem once and for all, so my family can continue without hassle and the Mancinis will lose interest.

I look at Jasmine. She’s staring straight up at me with her breasts pressing firmly against my chest, amplified by each deep breath she takes. Is she thinking the same thing? She could kill me right here in this closet and start the ball rolling.

Or I could kill her.

Jasmine Falzone, the only child of Enzo Falzone. Killing her would be easy, and the rest of her family would crumble like dandelions in the wind.

She blinks slowly, her eyelashes brushing the top of my fingers while her breaths grow shorter and shorter. Jasmine isn’t getting enough air. Either because of the heat building between us, the enclosed space, or my hand over her mouth.

I could do it right now. Smother her and be rid of the Falzones once and for all so I can focus on tearing down my family at my own pace.

But just as that thought darts into my mind, Jasmine lifts one of her hands and grasps the back of my hand, then she leans into my touch and her eyes close over fully. Thinking it’s a desire for me to remove my hand, I start to pull back, but she tightens her grip and keeps it in place. It takes me a second to click—she’s not struggling to breathe, she’s panicking and using me to keep herself calm.

Maybe enclosed spaces aren’t her thing.

The conversation behind us becomes nothing but droning noise as every detail of Jasmine becomes my focus. There’s glitter covering her cheeks, and it sparkles in the small streak of light coming in through the door slats every time she tilts her head. Her eyeliner is as sharp as a blade, and a few curled strands of hair fall forward from her updo and drift across her face. Past her bare shoulders, her breasts are tightly compacted into her dress and then squashed even further by my muscles taking up so much room.

She’s small compared to me, but the muscle tone of her arms is enough to tell me all I need to know about how strong she is. Jasmine might look small, but there’s definition on her arms. She’d throw a punch and know exactly how to make it hurt.

But despite that, and despite her beauty, I hate her.

Because our families hate one another.

I’m supposed to hate her.

Jasmine opens her eyes suddenly as if my thought was audible, and our gazes meet. She doesn’t look away, holding me in place with just a look, and all thoughts of harming her fade from my mind. My heart skips a painful beat and when I wince in surprise, she tightens her grip on my hand once more. Then, the moment passes, and the people behind us file out of the room without a word. I continue to hold Jasmine against me for a few minutes, fearing that any movement would somehow alert those people and bring them right back. Only when I’m certain that they’re gone do I open the door, and we stumble out of the closet together.

Jasmine immediately rips herself away from me, panting harshly as she pulls at the bodice of her dress as if she can’t breathe. She walks away to the other end of the room, running one hand through her air and gasping. “Holy shit. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Are you really surprised?” I ask, keeping one eye on her while leaning back against the piano. The last thing I need is for her to pass out and make me look like some kind of villain. “Your father has been playing games for too long.”

“My father?” She spins to face me, her eyes as dark as the ocean. “Your monster of a father is the one that started this shit. Who the fuck kidnaps schoolgirls?”

She has no idea that deep down, we’re on the same side. We likely even share the same hatred for my father, but that hatred can never see the light of day. Not until I’m the one on top. If we even make it that far.

“All’s fair in war,” I reply.

“We weren’t at war when that happened,” Jasmine spits, rapidly fanning herself. “You know, you should do the decent thing and hand yourself in. All of you. Submit to them and have the Mancinis take care of you because these past hellish six years are your fault.”

“Because you’re so blameless?” I snap right back. “You’re just as bad if not worse! Your father has been a tyrant for decades, long before you even came along.”

“Bullshit,” she mutters, stomping toward me, but she stops halfway and her face falls. “Oh no … this is insane. You heard them; they want us both gone. It won’t matter if one of us gives up. When have the Mancinis ever shown that kind of mercy? We’ll all be dead by the end of the week.”

“Hardly ideal,” I murmur. “Y’know, at least I was going to do something decent with this family when I inherited it. Something worthwhile. Not a ticking time bomb.” Beyond that, how am I going to make Santino shrivel up and suffer if the Mancinis wipe us all out? All my years of listening to his disgusting, racist remarks, his insults toward my mother, his disregard for my life, and putting up with fucking Alto—all for it to go up in smoke because the Mancinis are tired of us.

“I—shit. Same,” Jasmine says as she walks closer to me, keeping one hand pressed to her chest. “I didn’t want to live like this forever. I actually wanted us to do something beyond fighting this stupid war. Peace with the Yakuza, business expansion. Not that my father even listens to my ideas.” Suddenly, she starts laughing even as tears shine in her eyes. “Oh, that’s just brilliant.”

Despite the situation, Jasmine’s laughter is soft and adorable and instantly serves as an amusing distraction. What starts as soft chuckling quickly turns into giggling, then she’s full on laughing as she cups her face with both hands. “The entire drive here, I was praying for a way out of this impending engagement I’m being forced into for the good of the family. And now I have it, because we’re all going to end up dead!”

It’s hard not to laugh when Jasmine’s giggling is so heartfelt, and a smile tugs at my own lips as she paces back and forth. “You’re getting married?”

“Yes,” she giggles. “Well, I’m supposed to be. Surprise, we’re joining with another family so we can crush you, and I’m the payment, but I mean, at least you’ll be able to die knowing that the Mancinis will wipe us out not long after.”

“I—” Such a serious topic should carry more weight, but her laughter is too wholesome, and I can’t help but laugh too. “I mean, if you get married super quickly, you might be able to beat the Mancinis to it and kill a few of us.”

“Right?” she giggles, wiping at her eyes. “Wait … what if they kill my fiancé and his family as collateral? What a wedding gift!” Another flood of laughter takes her until she’s resting back against the desk, gasping and wiping away tears of mirth. “Fuck. They say Mancini parties are eventful.”

“You’re really getting married?” I ask when she calms. “Because of the war?”

“Your father is insistent,” she murmurs, slowly sobering from her amusement. “You wiped out too much from us last week with the hit on those trucks. My father … he’s determined to end things now with you lot but not the Yakuza, despite how much I tell him to.”

Shit.

How is it the Mancinis have such power that they can wipe us out at the drop of a hat? These past years scraping by while fighting for recognition, battling a war for territory and business, and keeping everything else afloat has felt like our world. Suddenly, it all feels so small and insignificant now that a more prominent family has deemed us an annoyance.

“I don’t suppose peace is an option,” I offer, already knowing the answer. She doesn’t even grace me with a reply, she merely rolls her eyes.

“Maybe I’ll get drunk,” she decides. “And tell my parents that everything they’ve spent their lives working for will be over soon because of fucking Santino Gatti.”

“Hey!” The reflexive urge to defend my monstrous father surges forth. “Your fucking father isn’t perfect either. He’s just as much to blame. And we’re not the ones trying to wipe you out. We’re just defending our territory and business.”

“Business you stole after kidnapping and traumatizing me, then blaming someone else!” Jasmine surges up and prods me straight in the chest. “Your father dug his own grave! You guys won’t stop until we’re dead, so of course we fight back!”

Suddenly, an idea strikes me that’s so insane, so unbelievable that the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Marry me, then.”

“What?” Jasmine’s mouth falls open.

“You said yourself you had plans beyond your father and this war. I do too. But whatever bad blood there is between us, it’s handing us straight to the Mancinis, and they’re going to kill us. Then our plans don’t matter because we’ll be dead.”

I step forward into Jasmine, and her pointing finger becomes her palm flat against my racing heart.

“So marry me. What better way to end this feud, at least in a way the Mancinis will notice. The feud will end, we’ll become overlooked, and then we will be free to pursue our own goals. So what do you say?”

A long silence follows.

“I … alright.”