Page 8 of Blood Vows

“No.” Her face fell slightly. “But I believe someone forged your signature.”

“That’s at least something,” she grumbled.

“It’s not enough,” he said.

“I figured you'd say that.” Dante looked at the account again. Four million dollars had disappeared three days ago. Someone had gone to great lengths to make sure the trail led directly to Elena, and he knew that she was hiding something.

He looked up. “What are you hiding?” Her expression closed immediately, and he saw the truth in her eyes.

“Elena,” he breathed. “I know that you’re hiding something.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” she insisted.

“Bullshit,” he shouted.

“I told you everything I know,” she countered.

“No, you told me everything you wanted me to know.” He stepped closer. She backed up once before catching herself. Dante noticed, and her chin came up. “You lied when I asked whether you had anything from your father.”

“I didn't—” she started.

“Don't.” His voice came out sharper than he intended, and Elena fell silent. Dante planted both hands on the counter, trapping her between his arms without touching her, and her breath caught. They were too close again. He should have moved, but he didn't.

“Your father is dead,” Dante said quietly. “Someone is moving millions through accounts that have been opened in your name. Three men were butchered and had Camorra carved into their bodies. Whatever you're protecting isn't worth dying for.”

“You don't know that.” Her answer was barely a whisper. Dante's eyes narrowed.

“So there is something,” he whispered.

Elena closed her eyes. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, sweetheart. Fuck,” he said.

“Don't call me sweetheart,” she spat.

“Then stop making me drag every damn answer out of you.” She pushed against his chest, and Dante stepped back, more because he didn't trust himself with her hands on him than because she'd actually moved him.

Elena paced away from him. “My father left me a key.”

Dante went still. “What kind of key?”

“A safe-deposit key,” she said.

“Where is the safe-deposit box?” he asked.

“I don't know,” she breathed.

His patience snapped. “How the fuck do you have a key and not know where the box is?”

“Because there was no bank name with it!” she shouted.

One of the guards appeared in the doorway, and Dante looked at him. “Out.” The man disappeared, and Elena dragged both hands through her hair.

“I found it after the funeral,” she said. “It was inside an envelope taped beneath a drawer in his desk.”

“Is there anything else?” she asked.

“A note,” she whispered.