Page 74 of Vow Of Fire

Nico ended the call.

I slowed down and pulled into the gas station.

They hadn’t been able to find Evelyn, so they’d gone after Alberto. He was the one with access to the logistics system. As I’d originally thought, he must have been the one to give them the shipping details.

But he’d paid for it. With his life.

Everyone was there when I arrived, my mother holding court on the chaise longue, a glass of champagne in hand. As ever, she looked impeccable in a long, flowing skirt paired with a cream blazer. Her dark hair was tied up in an elegant French knot and diamond studs sparkled in her ears.

My father had given her those on one of their anniversaries. I remembered her unwrapping them in the living room, back when we lived in Brooklyn.

Nico sat beside her, slouched back, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a serious expression on his suave face. He nodded at me as I walked in.

“Always last to arrive,” Marco remarked dryly, glancing across at me.

“Like you don’t keep half the room waiting whenever you feel like it,” I shot back, annoyed by his perfectly cut charcoal suit, golf tan, and fit build. Marco was always well turned out. I’d always thought he looked more like a Wall Street shark than the future head of the Marcelli famiglia.

But that was Marco’s gift. Powerful and civilized, unlike the rest of us.

Out of all the siblings, he was the one I was least close to. Him being the eldest son and me being the youngest might have had something to do with it. That, and he’d simply refused to get into any fights with me when we were teens, despite my best efforts.

It was like he was better than everyone else. Above all that basic crap. He was the most educated out of all of us, if you didn’t count Nico’s alternative education in the nefarious corners of the internet.

I used to think Marco was a pussy, that he couldn’t fight and that’s why he avoided it. Then, I’d seen him lose it. Like really fucking lose it.

He’d almost killed a guy with his bare hands, and would have too, if Rocco—of all people—hadn’t pulled him off. The kid had been his own age, a fellow student. I didn’t know the circumstances surrounding it, but I’d never seen Marco so mad in my entire life.

So I knew he could do it, if he was provoked enough.

He just chose not to.

I’d never known anyone as tightly controlled as Marco, and that made him the most dangerous of all the Marcellis in my book.

“Don’t be mean, Marco,” my sister Isabella chided, patting the empty stool next to her. I went over to the bar, shooting her a tired smile.

My baby sister, the youngest of the Marcelli siblings. At only twenty-nine, I had five years on her. But what Izzy lacked in age and experience, she made up for in guts.

“How’s the fight circuit?” I asked, perching on it.

She smirked, the small gold hoop in her nose twinkling in the light from the chandelier. “Profitable.”

My sister ran three underground clubs across Brooklyn and Queens. Cage fights, betting tables, private poker rooms hidden behind legitimate businesses. Half the men working those circuits were scared of her, and the other half wanted to sleep with her.

Neither group made the mistake of underestimating her twice.

The only person missing was my grandfather, Leo Marcelli. At seventy-eight, he’d retired from the family business a decade ago, an act that had surprised everyone, not least our numerous enemies.

They’d thought they could take advantage of the leadership vacuum, but then my mother had stepped into his shoes and they’d very quickly changed their minds.

And that was the whole happy family.

“Let’s get down to business,” Valentina said, annoyed at our bickering. You’d think she’d be used to it by now, but then she’d never been particularly maternal. I’d found out most of what I needed to know from my father, then later my brothers. My sister had taught me a lot about women.

“What’s the status with your prisoner, Dante?” She shot me a scathing look. “We’ll talk about your little subterfuge later. There are more pressing issues at hand.”

Marco smirked and Nico grimaced at the dressing down my mother was going to give me. I wasn’t worried. I could handle her.

“Nico tells me she’s made herself very much at home at the cabin.”