Oath of Sacrifice (Deviant Doms 4)

“Red dress? Or white? Loves me, loves me not?” Vittoria teases. Marialena tosses a throw pillow at her. She goes on and on about the standard deck of seventy-eight cards, how each set has a different name and artwork. I tune it out. I’ll be here for the company and to wish Marialena a happy birthday, but I have no interest in Tarot.

My mind’s still focused on the call earlier today.

It seems Elise calls her husband every hour, and while I think that’s adorable, if not a little clingy, and I love that the two of them are so close, I never know when… when Tavi will be with him.

I didn’t expect that he’d be in the same room with Santo earlier today.

I didn’t know he’d be sitting there, in all his badass, tough-as-nails, tattooed, bearded, angry glory. How anyone could look like the centerfold of a men’s weight training magazine wearing nothing but gray sweats and a white tee is beyond my comprehension.

Ah, Santo.

I still remember him as a gangly, ten-year-old boy who was wise beyond his years. Some might say jaded, even cruel, and I won’t lie and say he isn’t both of those as well. But there’s a difference between someone who’s scarred and someone who’s ruthless.

I know the difference with him.

Marialena screams with laughter at something Vittoria says, and I quickly turn back to the girls. Elise is wiping tears away, and Angelina’s got her face planted in a pillow, her shoulders shaking with laughter. I missed the joke, so I only smile and laugh along with them.

I’ve gotten used to just going along with everyone. Pretending to laugh, when I have to. Pretending I care.

I don’t really understand why Santo’s in Tuscany now, but we’re an ocean apart, and we both know that’s for the better.

“Now, Rosa,” Marialena says, turning to me. “Your turn.”

I shake my head, “I’m good, thanks. You girls go on without me.”

Marialena looks sternly at me. “If you squint, the card on the right looks a little like Matt Damon, you know.”

The girls laugh so hard, I wonder if Marialena’s snuck them all edibles. She doesn’t know that I know she’s got a stash right along with her crystals in that chest of hers.

“Ha, I’m good. Go ahead, I’m enjoying watching you girls read,” I lie.

I wonder what he’s doing tonight. I glance out at the full moon as my phone buzzes with a text.

My heart races.

Santo: Hey. You okay?

I swallow hard. We don’t text anything serious to each other on our private phones because both are under surveillance by Romeo. He says it’s for everyone’s own protection, but I know he keeps an eye on anyone and anything that could threaten the family.

And a relationship beyond brother and sister…

Me: I’m good. Reading Tarot cards with Lena on her bday haha

Santo: Read a good one?

I look out at the moon and smile to myself.

Me: I read one with a moon on it. It said I’d fall in love with a handsome, dashing Italian man. Shows how silly those things are, huh?

My finger hovers over the text as I think about sending it. My cheeks flush hot. No, I can’t go there. I don’t want even the faintest trace of flirtation on a text one of my brothers could read. I delete the text.

Me: It says I’m going to be a millionaire heiress and move to Italy. So insightful, eh?

The little dots start, then stop. Start, then stop again. Finally another text pops up.

Santo: Wow, impressive. Hey, it’s past my bedtime. Tell everyone I said hi. Night.

My heart sinks. I don’t let myself think long about why. I swallow hard.

Me: Good night. Thank you for checking in.

I blink, then go for broke and send him a red heart emoji. I hope he feels the sentiment in that little, tiny image sent across an ocean.

I put the phone down, deflated, and quickly close my eyes at the surprising well of emotion that rises in my chest. The girls laugh, oblivious to the inner turmoil I battle with. Oblivious to the inner torment that eats me. The grief that tears at me from the inside out.

I look out the window and stare at the stone wall that overlooks the sea. Here, right here, was where I sat, but further down so no one could see us from a castle window, just before his exile to Italy. It was the only time I’ve ever seen Santo cry.

“Horoscope, Rosa? C’mon, they even have horoscopes in Cosmo,” Marialena chides. “Just this once?”

I smile and decide the hell with it. I turn to her. “Let’s hear it.”

I love the way she squeals and pulls out rolls of paper where she apparently gets the horoscopes? Weird.

“It is high time for Aries to start moving and shaking,” she begins.

“Oooh. Aries. How’d I know Rosa was the stubborn ram?” Elise teases. I flip her the bird, which only makes her laugh.