The Vendetti Queen Page 3

  “Shit...” he mutters. “Her father? The grandfather is long dead, no?”

  “Si, and I’d bet my inheritance that the text you received about her wellbeing was because she somehow found out the news before me.” A curse escapes as my hand fists. This isn’t good at all. It has shady written all over it. I need to check on my wife. She’s young and no doubt doesn’t know how to deal with this. Violet’s been far too sheltered growing up in this life only for her father to attempt to hide it from her.

  “Do they have the killer?” He blows out a breath, pacing and texting someone rapidly. My guess would be he’s informing our brothers on everything we’re discussing.

  “No. Text Dante and make sure he goes to her suite immediately.” He’ll peel the skin from any threat that attempts to get to her. He’s one person I can trust that won’t fuck up my orders and will protect her with his life.

  “Violet will be safe here, Matteo. We have the best security in the state of New York. Hellhound Clinton herself couldn’t weasel her way onto our property to tie up loose ends,” he consoles, knowing where my thoughts are headed. If her father was murdered then the rest of her family will be next, I assume. Someone is on the hunt; they most likely want the familia out of the way to take their spot in Chicago.

  A grunt leaves me as I stand. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she was the one to take out the Bottaros in the first place,” I mutter, having been well acquainted with how the politician takes care of her adversaries. She’s tried to hire us in the past, with her being in New York.

  “Wouldn’t surprise me either,” he smirks, falling in behind me as I swiftly make my way to the stairwell that’ll lead me to the suite of rooms I’d given Violet upon coming to live with us. “You really care for this girl, no?”

  We could take the elevator, I suppose, but I can run the steps of the staircase quicker than the elevator can get us there.

  “She’s no girl,” I argue, flicking back a hard look at my youngest brother. The bastardo is nearly the same height and build as me already. In the end, he may surpass my frame, especially if he doesn’t ease up on the gym time he’s been obsessing about with Dante. “And, yes, of course I favor her. She’s going to be the mother to my heirs someday, the queen to the Vendetti Empire. You should care as well.”

  “Are those the only reasons? Our brothers have been talking about you and her arguing. They have their own thoughts on how you may feel.”

  “Enough, Cristiano. My discussions with Violet are my business.”

  He quiets, doing as he’s told, and continues to follow me until I reach my wife’s door. I’m sure my flower is a mess, having already been told the news of her father’s murder. We’ll get through this and she’ll grow stronger in the end.

  “Don’t interrupt unless I call for you.”

  “Yes, Capo.” He nods as my waiting brothers tilt their heads in greeting. I repay them with the same acknowledgement, glad they didn’t attempt to interrupt her. Inhaling a deep breath, I enter her room without bothering to knock. I own this damn house now; why the hell should I knock? Besides, she’s my wife.

  “Mia Violetta?” I call softly but loud enough she can hear me through the bathroom door. I have to remember to be consoling, to be soft. I’m not used to speaking to anyone this way, to comfort. I’ll learn, though. I’ll have her show me how to be decent at it. I’ll have bambinos someday; I don’t want them to believe me to be cold and unfeeling toward them.

  Receiving no response, I lean in, placing my ear to the door. My breathing ceases as I attempt to hear a sniffle, a snore—hell, anything. I’m sure her heart is shattered at the moment, and while I was a bastardo to her earlier, I wish to bring her nothing but comfort in her time of grief. She will need me, and I’ll be her strength through this.

  “Mia bella moglie, please say something. Come, so I may hold you. I will protect you. We all will.”

  There’s still no reply or any noise at all, and regardless of the melancholy she may be experiencing, I grow exasperated. With a twist of the decorative handle, I discover it’s still locked as my brother mentioned earlier. “Violet, open the door, now.” My patience is virtually nonexistent when it comes to this woman.

  At the continued silence, my fist hits the door, echoing with the impact. My temper rears, and with a few rapid pounds, I expect her to shout or perhaps wake if she’d fallen asleep. There’s nothing yet again. With an impatient jerk, I end up ripping the stupido dainty handle from the door. I let out a curse and my body slams against the thin wood, the door easily flying inward with so little of my effort. I really need to get a better door put on in its place. God forbid it be someone else and not me trying to get to her next time. I have to keep her safety in mind always. I’d never forgive myself if she were harmed all because of a damn door.

  I’m met with an empty room and a cracked window. I thought her room felt cooler when I came in, but I was too focused on getting to her to give it any real thought. Each set of suites has its own thermostat for individual comfort as well. If one of us wanted it to be fifty degrees in our room, it could be and no one would know any different in their own space. A luxury that has quickly become a hindrance as my brothers would’ve felt the coolness in the hallway and known something was amiss.

  “Violet?” I utter, although there’s no one there.

  I already know what to expect when I rush to the window and shout for my brothers to join me. There’s no sign of her below, just snowless lattice where she appears to have climbed down from her bathroom window and sloppy footsteps leading off into the yard. If it weren’t for the thin layer of snow having fallen earlier this evening, I’d have no idea which direction she’d gone or if she were alone in the endeavor. Thankfully, there is only one set of prints leading off into the dark. Unfortunately, that also means she’s out there with no protection.

  “Capo?”

  “Matty?”

  My brothers all echo as they pile in around me, gazing out the overly large window to see what I’m staring at.

  “Is she?” Luciano begins, and I nod. I don’t need to hear him say it out loud. This is a huge screw up, one that never should’ve happened in this household.

  I’m so enraged at the moment but must keep my wits about me. I have to be calm because she’s my priority. “We must find her. She’s upset, her father’s dead, and there’s a killer on the loose hunting Bottaros. I’d seen the threats the night of the wedding. Romano showed me as we’d waited for the doctor to look her over. The demands were juvenile in nature compared to what we’ve dealt with in the past towards our familia. They’d called for her severed head, but I was certain the union between her and I would put a stop to the Bottaro threat for the most part.”

  “Do we know who it could be?” Salvatore steps closer, grumbling under his breath about Violet catching pneumonia out there. The last thing I need to be thinking about is her being cold and getting sick. I’m already worried immensely about her ending up with her throat slashed. Pneumonia can be cured. Death...not so much.

  “I want to know how in the fuck she got outside without the alarms and where she is right this minute. Alarms should’ve been triggered; the house speakers should be shrilling in warning this very minute. You all brag about the top-of-the-line security, yet my young wife just gave you guys the slip and we have no idea where she could be! How in the hell does one woman evade seven Vendettis, guards, and a sensitive alarm system?” My voice finishes nearly yelling in my anger as I glare at my brothers. They silently glower at the marble floor, taking my fury with their dutiful submission. Of course they have nothing to say in return. A group of dangerous, intelligent men acting like a bunch of ten-year-old shmucks whose balls haven’t dropped yet.

  Valentino finally speaks, as I’m about to blow a gasket. “I’ve alerted the men. I have Angelo and Luigi searching the grounds. Severo is scanning the cameras and Vito has pulled up the GPS locator apps in case she takes a car. We’ll find her, Capo.”

  While I was furiously staring out the open bathroom window, he was busy. I’m glad that one of them has their head in the game. The rest? Well, if I were my father, I’d be planning out punishments already. I’m not writing it off just yet either. If they don’t bring me my wife and in one, healthy piece, they will hurt for it.

  “We better. I swear to Christ she better be alive and well whenever we do, too, or else you all will be punished for this. She’s the future of this family, for fuck’s sake. Violetta could already have my heir growing in her belly. I want her safe; locked in this fucking house, where she belongs.”

  “We’ll find her, Matty,” Salvatore echoes, and I growl, storming out of the bathroom.

  Snatching her coat from a chair as I go, my brothers nearly run to keep up with my brutal pace. I don’t give two shits if they’ve notified the guards. If I want something done, I guess I need to do it myself. Just as I knew I needed to be the one to keep an eye on her, and I was right. One small argument and now she’s gone and possibly in danger. I never should’ve lost control of my jealousy. My possessiveness pushed her away. Had I not been so stubborn this morning, then most likely she would’ve been in my office pestering me when that call came through.

  “Damn gullible woman.” Grumbling, I jerk on my wool jacket. Pulling it over my wide shoulders, I yank out my phone. Thankfully, my wife’s wedding ring has a tracking device set under the massive-sized diamond. The jeweler was smart enough to make the color match with the platinum back so you can’t notice it when looking directly at the stone. My father was always one to be prepared. I believed I was the same, but after this, it’s apparent I need to step it up a few notches.

  My hand pats my pocket, finding my keys where I’d left them, thankfully. “I’ll turn my locator app on so I
can track her ring. It’ll sync the directions to my Range Rover. Someone follow me in a car in case we need to chase her down. Any news on what vehicle she’s taken?” There’s no way she’d stay on foot; she’s far too smart for that.

  Cristiano jogs up beside me. “Vito said a BMW was gone.”

  “Which model?” I huff, tearing through the mansion to get to the garage.

  “It was a three.”

  “Good, then she won’t be able to go too fast in it, unless it was one of your specialty models?” My father has a habit of giving us fast cars for Christmas and our birthdays. We have a garage full of at least thirty gifted vehicles. It’s a bit atrocious, if I’m being honest about it. Apparently, in his lack of parenting, he believed luxury vehicles would make up for it.

  “No, it was one of the cars the staff uses.”

  “Keep me updated,” I demand as I finally make it to my blacked-out Range Rover. Valentino and Dante head for a Lamborghini, while Luciano and Santino jump into my vehicle. My gaze flicks to Cristiano and Salvatore. “I want you both here in case you hear something or she comes back for some reason. We need to be spread out so one of us can get to her immediately.”

  Normally, they’d be the first two to argue, but they must notice the unwavering determination reflected in my gaze as they simply nod and wish us a safe and quick recovery. I only hope when I get to mia Violetta that she’s not hurt and I can stop her from being the next victim. I’ve merely gotten her in my life; I don’t want to lose her already.

  And so help any person that lays a finger on her. It’ll be their death.

  Chapter 2

  Her courage was her crown

  and she wore it like a queen.

  -Atticus

  VIOLET

  I’m actually driving! I haven’t ever driven a car like this. My father never wanted myself or my mother to learn how to drive; he thought there was no reason when we had a car and driver to take us everywhere. The head of his security insisted that, for our safety, every family member had to learn. I took the written test and drove around a parking lot in a fancy Mercedes for a private driving test and got my license. I wasn’t worried at the time, believing my father’s insistence that I’d never have to use it, but I’m thankful for it now.

  I have to get home, right now. There’s no way my husband would let me leave, nor would any of his brothers, no matter how much I tried to beg any of them. So rather than waste time I don’t have, I scaled the fence and took a car as soon as I found one. I’m Matteo’s wife; I’m technically a Vendetti now, so they can’t get too angry at me for borrowing a car. It was on the property with the key fob thing in it, so it must be one of the brother’s.

  My head is scattered with worry and heartbreak. I can focus on nothing but getting home this very moment. Thankfully, all these nice cars do the work for you. I typed in my family’s address and it brought up the directions I needed to find my way back. Now, I have to make it in one piece without wrecking.

  I want to fly down the street, but it’s winter and roads are icy. I remember the study guide said to drive ten under the speed limit in imposing weather, but other people are driving like maniacs. Maybe it’s New York, or just because I’m new at this? The speed limit says fifty-five and I’m carefully going ten under, yet they pass me so quickly. I wish I’d had practice at driving, I hate not being prepared. I don’t have a choice though.

  My mother will be killed next, if I don’t make it back in the allotted time. The directions given were simple: pull myself together and get to my family’s house by tomorrow. I’m supposed to come alone, if I want my mother to have any chance to survive. I don’t doubt the threat for a moment either. I can’t believe this is happening. The whole point of me marrying Matteo was so this wouldn’t be an issue any longer. The death threats were supposed to disappear or at least fade away, according to my father. My poor papa...I’m so sad he’s dead. Though I can’t focus on my grief right now. I need to concentrate on driving.

  I have to take Matteo’s advice and be strong. Who’d have thought that my husband’s rude comments would come to use so quickly after he’d made them. Of course, I’d sobbed during the phone call. Who wouldn’t have? I’d just been informed that my father was brutally murdered and that my mother would be next...that I could possibly save her. From that point, I was on autopilot. I climbed out a freaking window, into the freezing wintery night, and took a car! My father was right to tell me that I’m a bit reckless; I can see his meaning now.

  Hmm, me reckless and Matteo’s ruthless. What a fitting combination.

  Tears fall down my cheeks, but I pay them no mind. With a quick swipe here and there, I stare ahead out the front window. My back’s straight and my nerves are wrung tight, not wanting to screw this up and get pulled over. I know Matteo has plenty of the cops in his pocket; he’s the Capo. You don’t get to that station without having plenty of people to call when you want something. One wrong swerve and a cop could notice me, returning me to my husband before I have a chance to even leave the city. I won’t be quite as worried once I’m farther out and his reach is less and less. It’s not that I’m frightened of him...Okay, so I am. But that’s not why I’m fearful of getting stopped by an officer. It’s because I know Matteo wouldn’t allow me to go. I must evade him as much as possible so I can get to my mother.

  More tears fall; I sniff and wipe my face. My thoughts play over the last conversation I had with my papa. I was so damn angry with him, but thankfully I wasn’t too stubborn to tell him that I love him. I would feel much worse about that conversation had I not said it. He was such a kind man to me, always. I was not an easy daughter, and being a Princessa of a Chicago mob family, it was almost expected of me. I wanted my way when I wanted it. He was always patient with me through the constant picking my mother did; she’d swear I would never marry well with my terrible mannerisms. He didn’t believe that, and I will miss him.

  No matter what my mother and I have been through with our rocky relationship, I can’t let her die. I would never forgive myself. I have a chance to put a stop to it, so I must. I know I promised my loyalty to Matteo, and I meant it, but she’s still my mother. I have to at least attempt to help or else I’ll be worse than she ever was with her snide comments and underhanded ways. There’s a piece of me that wonders if the roles were reversed, would she do the same for me? Of course she would. I’m her daughter, in the end. At least, I hope she would.

  Loud honking shakes me out of my thoughts. Blinking, I jerk to the left, realizing I was halfway into the other lane. A red light appears on the dash with a chime. The GPS alerts me that it’s searching for nearby gas stations.

  “I didn’t ask you to search for a gas station!” I yell, full of frustration. I need to get home, not refill the tank. I don’t know how to fill the freaking car up anyhow. Surely, they must have some places that fill the tank for you? Besides, I don’t have money with me... Maybe there’s a credit card stored somewhere in here.

  With a groan, I grab the air freshener from the vent and fling it into the passenger window. “I need to get to my family, damn it!” Another honk warns me that my tantrum has me swerving again, and I jerk into my lane then let go, screaming as the GPS repeats that she’s rerouting.

  I feel helpless and I absolutely can’t stand it. I’m strong, damn it. I know I am! My father was just murdered, but I’m going to keep it together to help my mother. I silently chant to myself as my sobs grow heavier. I’m a fucking mess.

  “This is your fault, papa!” I spew as the tears continue to fall. I drive until the car chimes several times and begins to almost cut off. I have a feeling I’ve broken it by not taking it to a gas station as it instructed. I couldn’t help it though; I need to get home as quickly as possible. I can’t stop for gas. This is a small car; can’t it drive for a while?

  It sputters again, losing speed. The dash flickers an angry red E at me and people are speeding by with various honks. Of course this would happen right now. The woman, who doesn’t drive, ends up taking the car that runs out of gas. I’m so angry and overwhelmed, I could punch something. Not that it would do me any good. It’s fucking freezing outside and I’m on the side of the road with no heat. The car ran out of gas, my father was murdered earlier, my mother is next to die, and I was fighting with my husband the last time we spoke. Could this night get any worse? I’m scared to even ponder the thought.