Page 41 of Jealous Vows

Then I went home, learned what my father had done, lost my mother, and closed myself off from all friendships.

“I suppose it’s been ten years since we spoke, hasn’t it?”she says.

When the greeting flows into introductions then easy conversation and she learns I’m buying a whole new wardrobe, her eyes light up, and she asks if she can help.

I look to Romeo for permission.He nods and settles on the couch outside the dressing rooms.

Time blurs and outfits blend together.I give up trying to keep track of dollar amounts and the number of outfits.Romeo never once complains and I soak up every minute with a female friend.

Renata checks her watch and grimaces.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go.Can we exchange numbers?I’d love to hang out more in the future,” she says.

“Oh.I don’t have a phone,” I answer.

Guilt wriggles up my spine as disappointment tugs at her lips.

Romeo saves the day.

“The front desk has a pad and paper.Write it there and you’ll be the second contact after me once she gets her own,” he says.

Part of me wonders why he doesn’t just save her as a contact in his phone, but he answers my unspoken question after she leaves.

He pulls me into his arms right outside the dressing rooms and wraps me in a tight embrace.

“Renata Bonnetti is mafia royalty.The Bonnetti family is one of the five founding mafia families of New York City,” he says.

“Oh.So having her number in your phone is gravely inappropriate and dangerous for you both.Got it.Why is she friends with me, then?I never would have guessed she was mafia royalty,” I say.

He shrugs and cups the back of my head.

“I don’t know much more about her, but being around you is probably a breath of fresh air for her.I’m sure everyone else around her has an ulterior motive,” he responds.

I nod.

He brushes his nose side to side over mine.

“I’ve been hard ever since you started trying on clothes.I almost joined you in the dressing room half a dozen times.Reward me with a kiss,bambolina,” he demands.

I rise onto tiptoe and tilt my head but close my mouth over his Adam’s apple instead of aiming for his mouth.With an experimental flick and swirl of my tongue, I smile at his groan and kiss a trail down to his tie.

He growls.My stomach rumbles.

I cringe with embarrassment.After eating so much not long ago, I thought I’d be full for days.

His sigh ruffles my hair.

After a chaste kiss to my temple, he grabs my wrist and starts for the door.

“Wait, my clothes,” I protest.

“They’ll deliver them with the rest.What you’re wearing is perfect,” he responds.

I roll my eyes and follow him to the car.

When we stop in front of what must be a historic warehouse converted into modern living on the cleanest street I’ve seen since arriving in New York City, unease prickles in my gut.

“Where are we?”I ask.