Silent Vows: A Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (The Byrne Brothers Book 1)

I didn’t feel compelled to stay at the restaurant after my tete-a-tete with Noemi. I wasn’t actually worried about Shae, but when I heard they were out together, I found myself driving in that direction without conscious decision. I needed to know if Noemi was going to make use of her new vocal abilities, though I wasn’t sure what to do with the answer.

Conflicting emotions warred at me when I saw her scribbling on her notepad. Selfish pride loved knowing her voice was all mine. I’d keep every part of her to myself if I could. The problem was, the more I learned about her, the more questions I had. I’d asked myself countless times already why she’d been silent for so long. Several obvious answers came to mind, but none explained why she would continue the ruse after being outed.

Why the fuck did she feel the need to stay silent?

Instincts told me there was a reason, and I needed to unearth it, but how? The uncertainty clawed at me, which only pissed me off. Lately, that seemed to be a constant for me, and I had far more important things to do than coax a girl into sharing her fucking baggage with me.

Agreeing to this arrangement was never supposed to unfold like it had. The whole reason I chose Noemi was to keep things simple. My wife and life completely separated. Now, I could hardly spend five minutes without thinking about her or bailing from my responsibilities to stand like a creeper in the shadows to watch her.

Shae’s rolling laughter danced in the air as I exited the restaurant, giving me the perfect outlet for my frustrations. I walked to her flashy red BMW i8 and took out my switchblade, sinking the titanium blade deep into her tread with a grin.

That’s for going behind my back.

I only did the one tire. She had a spare and knew how to change it, so I wasn’t worried about leaving her stranded. It was just an inconvenience. A playful lesson from her loving cousin—and no doubt she’d know exactly who to thank. It wouldn’t have been any fun if she didn’t.

Walking away, I spotted the black Caddy driven by the Mancini goon and considered rendering him the same service, just for shits and grins, but decided against it. I wanted Noemi to get home safely, and I wasn’t looking to start a war. Though, for her, I just might.

I was so fucked.

I hadn’t felt this way around a woman in … ever.

The tang of wine on her lips and the heat of her delicate curves pressed against me made my body act in ways it hadn’t since I was a pubescent teen. It was maddening and ridiculous. I hated the way she challenged my control, yet I couldn’t seem to get enough.

If my dick had its way, I would have fucked her against that storeroom wall. Thank God I retained some semblance of restraint. If she’d never been with a man before, I wasn’t taking her virginity in a fucking supply closet. I wasn’t a total monster.

What I was, though, was a hypocrite.

I’d always thought the worst of the gambling addicts that came to our clubs, night after night, pissing away every dime they had for one more turn of the roulette wheel, yet Noemi was giving me the first glimmer of understanding at the helplessness behind compulsion. There was no logic or rationale, only need and obsession.

Dice weren’t my addiction, but I feared a certain green-eyed Italian just might be.