Monster A Dark Arranged Marriage Romance - Vanessa Waltz Page 0,102

the path she’d never take.

It was self-inflicted torture. A wound I kept reopening.

Carmela was never coming back.

She couldn’t.

How did someone go from engaged to dead?

My sister went missing six months ago. The police had found enough of her blood in a wooded area to investigate her disappearance as a homicide. It was three weeks since her empty coffin was lowered into the ground, dragging with it a piece of my soul.

I still couldn’t believe it.

The girl who’d nagged at me, taught me how to use lip liner, and seemed indestructible with her iron-clad confidence, had left this world. She’d never again belt out an Italian ballad or fight me over a pair of heels.

Day after day, the finality rang inside like the hollow beating of a drum. Gone, gone, gone.

The bag of wedding memorabilia weighed down more than just my arm as I took it outside. I descended the porch and headed into the street filled with Cadillacs. The sickly-sweet aroma of jasmine, which surrounded the property, clung to my skin.

It rained last night, leaving everything darker, especially the herb garden, which burst with tomato vines and basil. I pushed the swing gate into the side yard, where a tall mafioso leaned against the fence. As the door swung, he snapped to attention. He’d won the Italian genetic lottery with his linebacker body and the elegant ridges over his eyes that begged for a kiss.

A fitted gray T-shirt with a deep V-neck wrapped his muscled chest, which was sprinkled with fine hair. A soft widow’s peak gave way to a thick, neatly combed, black mane. It was shortened at the sides, and sideburns swooped to a beard that covered his jaw and upper lip. Gorgeous from all angles.

Alessio Salvatore was a drink of a man.

He was also my late sister’s fiancé.

I admired him from a distance because he terrified me up close.

I’d heard so many ugly things about Alessio. Horrible rumors. Graphic anecdotes whispered from one spouse to another until they penetrated our gossip circle. The Costa underboss had an instinct for brutality, and whenever I’d felt a twinge of jealousy, I’d remember the sordid details. It didn’t matter anyway; his gaze had always seemed to slide past me. Around him, I was invisible.

It made it easier to try to pretend he didn’t exist. A fool’s errand, considering the world disappeared to a distant murmur with him in the room. Until recently, every interaction with him left me feeling helpless. Now he looked at me like a hunter through his scope.

Please leave me alone.

Men like him didn’t answer prayers. Men like him were the reason we needed them.

The gravel cracked as Alessio loped toward me. Before I shoved the bag into the recycling bin, he lifted it from my hands and trashed it.

“Thanks.”

I stepped around him, but he stopped me.

“How are you?”

I shrugged, hoping he’d disappear.

His hardened eyes told me he wasn’t budging. I couldn’t escape without touching him.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I am?”

I allowed my gaze to travel up his leather shoes to the collar of his blazer. “You seem okay. Excuse me.”

Alessio grabbed the gate post before I moved, his white-knuckled grip blocking my way. “We should talk.”

“About what?”

“Avoiding me won’t change what our families have planned.” A thin mist swirled in the air as the sun hid behind clouds. Drops collected on Alessio’s ebony waves as he leaned in, mouth set in a grim line. “This self-denial makes it harder for everyone.”

“I’m not in denial.”

“Then look at me.”

I couldn’t.

I’d feel something, and I didn’t want to.

The rain fell, darkening spots on my T-shirt. A drop smacked my forehead. I fingered the latch and pulled, but he refused to give.

“I just buried my sister.” Metaphorically, at least. “Leave me alone.”

“We don’t have time for this.”

Fuck him for talking about my grief like it was a head cold. “Carmela wasn’t a pet fish.”

“Life goes on, stellina. Whether or not you want it to.”

I seized the gate and yanked. He released it, allowing us through. I returned to the house, Alessio quick on my heels. Wiping my feet, I drifted to where a handful of Ricci and Costa soldiers mingled.

Alessio followed me past my parents’ bedroom that stayed locked because Mom had barricaded herself inside, and shot into my room. Alessio caught the door on his elbow, shutting it.

The lock slid home.

A thrill rode my spine. “What are you doing? You can’t be in here.”

Dad was uncompromising about men with his daughter. One reason I never brought them