Page 13 of Vow Of Fire

Through the glass walls of the shaft, the city flashed by in streaks of gold and red. Car lights, rain, the blur of people moving below. From this high up, it didn’t look real.

In the last twenty-four hours, I’d gone from interrogating a man in a sweat-stained warehouse to sauntering around a high-end gallery in SoHo with Isabella, checking out my new enemy.

My family’s new enemy.

While Izzy had been in her natural habitat, I’d been too uptight to enjoy it.

Evelyn Cruz was not what I’d expected.

Sure, she was beautiful and sophisticated, but the fire in her gaze, her cool-as-a-cucumber demeanor, and her haughty attitude told me she was definitely capable of the betrayal Alberto had accused her of.

Unfortunately, she’d disturbed me before I could have a good look around her office. It was doubtful she’d have left any evidence lying around to implicate her in the dockyard ambush, but I had to give it a shot.

The background check my brother Nico had run on her was interesting. She’d lost both her parents while at college and had gone on to build a successful career for herself in the highly competitive New York art world with only a meager inheritance. That took guts.

Again, I wondered how far she was willing to go to stay afloat.

When the elevator doors opened, I stepped into the familiar chill of the penthouse and walked down the wide hallway to the living room, where my mother was waiting.

Valentina Marcelli sat on a white leather sofa in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, the Manhattan skyline shimmering behind her. A glossy fashion magazine lay open on the seat beside her, while an empty espresso cup stood on the pedestal at her elbow.

She glanced up as I entered. “You’re late.”

“Hello, Mother. You’re looking lovely this morning.”

“Don’t try to charm me, Dante,” she said with a smirk, but her blue eyes glittered. “You promised me brunch at Castros.”

“Let’s go.”

I offered her my arm and she rose off the couch, swung her purse over her shoulder, and slipped her arm through mine.

“Isabella gave me an update,” she said in that casual but loaded way of hers as we stepped into the elevator. “I believe our prime suspect is a pretty gallery owner.”

I gave a low grunt.

Pretty didn’t do her justice. The woman was fucking gorgeous with all that fiery red hair, haughty green eyes and translucent, pale skin. Under different circumstances, I might even have been attracted to her.

But I wasn’t interested in snitches. People who sold secrets for money were the lowest form of scum in my book. Bottom feeders who deserved everything they got.

I thought about the gallery, the art, her carefully curated façade and the determined set of her jaw that told me just how hard she’d worked to get there. I’d dismantle it all piece by piece if she’d been the one to betray us.

“How are we going to find out if she’s involved?” Valentina pressed.

“I’m going to have a little talk with her.” I jabbed the button harder than I’d meant to and we whooshed down to the first floor.

She gave me a thoughtful look. “Use Rocco. You don’t have to get your hands dirty.”

I gave a grim nod. “If I have to.”

But I already knew I wasn’t going to let that brute anywhere near Evelyn. If anyone was going to lay a hand on her, it was me.

The doors opened and we crossed the lobby to where my car was waiting.

“How’s Il Lupo?” she asked conversationally, as we got in. She’d already moved on, like we weren’t about to completely destroy a woman’s life.

“He’s fine.” I shelved my grim thoughts about Evelyn and turned them to my grandfather.

Out of all the siblings, I spent the most time at Leo’s place. Il Lupo had been his nickname when he’d been in charge. The original Don, he’d been respected and feared, although he’d mellowed with age.