The Promise: Mafia Vows Two

by SR Jones

  I can’t speak. His words are so complimentary.

  “And … you have a good soul. You’re strong, but you’re good. Damen, Alesso, they aren’t good, not in the same way. They take care of those they love, but their moral compass is a little … shall we say, shaky.” He laughs then. “Yours is not. I’ve been finding out about you, daughter. Your work at the shelter. The things you do. I think you wouldn’t want a role at the helm, with all it would entail, correct?”

  “No, I don’t want that; you’re right. I am honored you asked, though.”

  “The house on Santorini is worth millions, and with the cash too, you’ll always be secure. And I have also put a small amount, one million euros, into an account for you to access now. It’s for you to use as you please. Go to college. Start a business. Damn, start a charity for all I care. You could use it to help address the worsening homelessness crisis. I don’t care. Do with it as you will. That is available to you now. If you ever need more, or my help. Ever need anything—you come to me.”

  “Okay.” I sniff and try to hold back the tears. I also find myself smiling. Bless him, my father thinks a million euros is a small amount.

  What he has done warms me inside. I had no family, and now in the space of two days, Damen has become my husband for real by telling me he loves me, and today my father took me into his fold. What I’m about to ask might ruin some of the love-in going on here, but I need to know. “Can I ask you a question?”

  He gives a small dip of his head. I gather my courage. “Did you love my mother? Because I think she loved you, and she did what she did out of a belief it was the right thing to do.”

  He sits back and gives me a perceptive love. “I love your aunt. She’s a good woman, but yes, I loved your mother. Your aunt and I … we are happy, although as you can imagine, right now, things are not good. She will come around, though. Your aunt is a pragmatic woman, and she’s levelheaded. Your mother, not so much. She was always passionate, you know?”

  I don’t. I always saw my mother as almost cold. Perhaps she appeared that way because in making her choice she had to lock the other side of herself down.

  “I feel as if my mother’s life was wasted. It makes me unbearably sad.”

  My father scratches inside his shirt collar, and I can see this conversation is making him uncomfortable. He’s a hard man, not one to talk about his feelings.

  “She had you, and she loved you more than anything. And in the end, what she did was choose her own way out. Brave always. You have a lot of her in you, but you have even more of me.”

  I smile. He stands and walks to me, pulling me up and into his arms.

  Closing my eyes, I sink into the hug. Wow, this man is my father. My real father, and he’s stepping up. It’s almost too much to comprehend.

  We step apart, and I walk to the door, shaky on unsteady legs, overwhelmed by emotion. He stops me by taking hold of my elbow as I near.

  “One question I have.”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “What are you going to call me, if not Father?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t call you Uncle anymore. How about … I simply call you Stamatis?”

  He pauses for a moment, then smiles. “Okay, deal.”

  “Thank you. For everything.”

  “Jesus, don’t thank me, child. I took long enough to do the right thing. I think I knew all along, but I didn’t want to have to face the fallout being open about you would cause. So, the shit that happened … that’s on me. Don’t thank me, Maya. But make a good life for yourself, and for your mother.”

  And then he turns toward his desk, leaving me to walk out of the room with a huge lump in my throat.

  Damen is waiting. Tall, big, solid. He’s my rock, and one I’m going to need in the coming days.

  ***

  I stare at myself in the full-length mirror. I’m wearing a black maxi skirt, with a soft gray turtleneck sweater, a black waterfall jacket, and a McQueen scarf with bright Japanese-inspired prints of birds and flowers. The turtleneck, skirt, shoes, and bag are all what my mom would love; the scarf is pure me.

  I felt so strong when I left my father’s den the other day. Now I feel as if my legs can’t hold me up.

  My reflection mocks me as I look at myself. Smart, prim almost, all the things Mom wanted me to be, but I’m not those things. I’m a girl who likes to get fucked in the ass. A girl who loves it when men notice me as I walk down the street. I’m a girl who has discovered she has a well of vengeance in her so deep it’s almost bottomless.

  I didn’t think I’d be able to get through today. But I had my shrink lady write me a scrip for some tranqs. Only enough for today. I don’t want to make a habit of it. The valium and the burning vengeance are giving me the strength to lay my mother to rest.

  A knock at the door jars me out of my contemplation. I go to answer it and am surprised to see Alesso.

  Next to him is Stella. Oh, no. She’s not strong enough yet to be going out. I start to speak, but Alesso gets there first.

  “I’d save your breath; she’s determined.”

  I glance at Stella.

  “Babe, you’re not well.” I don’t want her collapsing at Mom’s funeral and risk losing another person in my life.

  “I’m okay, I promise. And Alesso says I can lean on him.”

  I bet he did.

  Not wanting to give away my thoughts, I turn and go to grab my bag so they don’t see my expression. He’s got the hots for Stella. Who’d have thought things would turn out this way? Me with Damen, and Alesso lusting after my friend.

  Not that he can have her. Her parents would send her abroad if they thought she’d get tied up with the likes of him. They don’t particularly like her being friends with me, although they’ve always been very kind and welcoming to me. They’re too middle class to let their disdain show. Polite, always. I know what they think of me, though, because they tried very subtly over the years to get Stella to make friends with other girls. Girls like her, with their good grades, and their nice homes, and their classic clothes.

  Stella always chose me, though. Every time. She put me first, and we’ve been besties ever since. I love her. Like a sister.

  For that reason, I’m glad her family won’t let her and Alesso start anything because she deserves a different life. I can’t escape this life now; I know it. And I don’t want to, because this life is where Damen is. I know it won’t be easy or safe. We’ll always have enemies. It’s not the sort of existence I would have chosen for myself. Love doesn’t always come wrapped in neat circumstances, though. The person we fall for isn’t always the healthiest option.

  I could leave all this, take the million euros I now have, and start again.

  I could go to Britain or America. Meet a doctor or a corporate lawyer. Marry. Have kids. Be safe. Be a stay at home mom with a good life. A happy life. It wouldn’t work, though, because every damn day I’d burn for Damen. I’d crave him, want him, and eventually, I know, I would come looking for him. Only then he’d hate me for leaving.

  Stella, though, she can still have all those wholesome things. If only she’d stop looking at Alesso like he hung the moon for her.

  “Okay. I think I’m ready.” I straighten my skirt and smooth my hair as Stella gives me a sad smile.

  We troop downstairs together. Them in front, me a couple of steps behind.

  When we reach the living room, my heart jolts. A line of oh-so-handsome, tall and broad men face me, their expressions somber.

  All the men are wearing dark suits. All gorgeous, looking like they came from a GQ photoshoot. Damen pushes off from the counter where he was leaning and comes to me. He’s so devastating in his suit it makes me proud to have him with me. Mine. A possessiveness roars through me, and I know I won’t ever allow another woman to touch him if I get my way. Maybe I am a little bit Bonnie and Clyde in my own way. I glance at the others, taking my gaze away from my stunning husband.

  Liam, Reece, and Andrius ar
e also dressed for the service; Andrius in a three piece as usual, only this one is black, not the gray he normally favors.

  “You’re all coming?” I ask as tears threaten.

  “Of course,” Andrius says. “Then I have work to do, so I’ll be leaving.”

  I know exactly what the work is, and I want to be there, so I need Andrius to put his revenge on Costas on hold until a time I can witness it. Not sure how to ask for such a thing, I decide to speak to Damen and get him to make Andrius hold off.

  “I’m coming too,” Damen says to Andrius.

  My heart drops. Oh, no. He cannot be serious. I need him with me today. “No.” The word rings sharply in the room, and Damen stares at me as if I’ve grown another head.

  “Excuse me?” His expression hardens, and I know we’re about to argue, on today of all days.

  “You can’t go, not after my mother’s funeral. I need you.”

  “And I need to be there to help Andrius kill the fucker who hurt you and your mother.”

  “I know, but I don’t want you to go either, Andrius. Not yet.” I turn to the Ukrainian and try to keep my voice from shaking as I tell him what I want.

  “You don’t get to tell me what do to, Maya. That’s not the way this works.” Andrius’ voice is cold.

  “Okay, listen, Maya.” Damen has a beseeching look on his face. “Andrius gets to do this when he sees fit, but I’ll go with him, bear witness for you.”

  “No.” The word is out before I even think of censoring myself.

  My face heats as Liam looks away, Reece grins, and Andrius shakes his head and stalks out of the room. Why won’t these men take me remotely serious? They dismiss me at every turn. It makes me almost want to take my father up on what he said about making me the leader. Then these idiots would have a different attitude for sure.

  I know I don’t want that, though. Not for me, and not for any possible future children I may have. If I decide I want them, which honestly, so far I haven’t, but then I am young. Barely any women my age are getting married these days. Most new brides are in their mid-twenties, not late teens or early twenties.

  I need time to grow, to find myself, and if I became some sort of mafia henchwoman, I wouldn’t get that luxury, because my life would be insanely busy and super dangerous. The other reason I don’t want what my father hinted at is because I know I’d find going up against all this testosterone day in and out exhausting.

  “Damen, please. I’m begging you. Don’t desert me when I need you the most. Not today; it’s my mother’s wake.” I go for the softer option than direct confrontation and try to use my feminine wiles.

  “I’m not deserting you. I’ll be a few hours, and I’m getting revenge for you and your mother.”

  Okay, so the feminine wiles didn’t work. Damn his stubbornness.

  “Revenge I want to be there for too. Andrius can do it without you, if he’s so determined not to wait; he doesn’t need you to hold his hand.”

  This is the wrong tact to take, and I see it immediately in the hardening of his jaw.

  “Maya, you know nothing about any of this. I won’t be long. Then I will be here for you. Your friend, Stella, she will be with you, and so will Alesso. Your father will be there.”

  “You will miss my mother’s wake and deny me my right to witness my revenge.” I start to cry. I can’t help it. The wake terrifies me. I don’t know how I’m supposed to make conversation with people after putting my mother in the ground. How do you do such a thing? I’d counted on having Damen with me. By my side.

  “Sometimes, you’re as cold as ice, Damen Lambrakis.” I push at his chest to emphasize my point, and then march out of the room to stand with Alesso and Stella.

  “The car is here,” Andrius informs us, and I don’t even glance his way. Bastard. He could wait, but he’s got to have everything his way.

  “Let’s go.” I link arms with my best friend and studiously avoid my pig-headed husband.

  I think about things as I sit in the car gliding through the streets. If Andrius won’t wait, I’ll go with him today. My mom would understand. She’d see it a lot more fitting for me to witness the end of the man who did this to us, instead of making polite conversation with strangers I can’t stand.

  I had hoped to see my grandparents today. Thought it would be one bright spot in the day, but my grandmother is sick. The news of my mother’s death knocked her sideways, and she’s in the hospital too unwell to travel. They say it isn’t life threatening, but her Meniere’s disease has flared up at the stress, and she can’t take two steps without falling over. They are trying to balance her meds and get her stable again so she can go home.

  It sucks, but I swear to go see them once everything here is sorted.

  Mother wanted to be buried in a small church out in the country. A place she loved. Not one of the big cathedrals in Athens, so the drive takes a while. Eventually, the cars turn off the big road onto a small, bumpy track.

  We reach the beautiful, tiny church and churchyard where my mother wanted to be laid to rest. It’s gorgeous here. I can imagine it in the spring, a riot of wildflowers.

  There’s nothing nearby, only a small village about a mile down the hill. It’s isolated but gorgeous. Will she be lonely here? I vow to come visit her regularly and let her know how life is going.

  I falter as I start to climb the steps to the church entrance.

  Arms anchor me. One around my waist, the other holding my elbow.

  Damen.

  I don’t have the energy to fight with him, not now. I need his strength to get me through this.

  Leaning against him, I let him lead me up the steps.

  Everything from that moment on is a blur. I go through the motions, but none of it sinks in. Not even seeing the pale, otherworldly face of my mother in her casket. She at least appears peaceful. She also doesn’t look like herself. It’s as if someone has taken a papier-mâché mask of Mother’s face and pretended it’s her. It freaks me out looking at her, so I close my eyes.

  As the service progresses, an impending sense of panic and doom fills me. Damen is going to leave me. He’s not going to be there for one of the most important moments in my life, and he’s risking his life in doing so. I can’t lose anyone else. I simply can’t. Either I persuade him to stay and let Andrius deal with this, or I go with him, no arguments.

  “Please don’t leave me,” I whisper to him. “Please. Persuade Andrius to do this another day. I can’t do this alone. I’m freaking out.”

  I expect him to deny my request. Or even ignore it. Instead, his lips brush my ear as he quietly says, “Okay. I’ll stay, and I’ll talk to him. For you.”

  His words light me up inside. We might argue, and at first, he might refuse to budge on things, but he does relent, if it matters to me, the same way I do for him. It strikes me then—I have a someone. We’re a team. Here for one another. It’s an amazing thing to have for the first time in my life, and I hold it to me and cherish it.

  After the service is the burial, and the panic increases. Thank God I took a benzo, or I think I’d do something insane like throw myself into the ground after my mother. The first thud of earth hitting the casket makes me want to throw up.

  “I’ve got you. Always.” Damen holds me to him.

  He’s supporting me. Keeping me standing when without him, surely, I’d sink to the ground. My father is here too. Not standing with me because I don’t think he feels he can, not with Aunty here as well. It is good he is here, though, lending me his support with his sad, dark gaze locking on mine and his smile telling me he feels it too. The sadness. The loss.

  As things come to a painful close, I see a man in a dark suit at the edge of the mourners, and my heart stalls.

  No way. It can’t be. He’d have to be crazy.

  Oh, shit.

  “Damen?”

  He turns to me, and as he does the first shot rings out.

  “It’s Costas,” I scream.

  Damen push
es me to the ground, but not before I see Liam, Reece, and Andrius all reach for weapons under their jackets.

  They came armed? To a funeral! Were they expecting this?

  Face down on the grass, I lift my head slightly so I can see what is happening. I can’t lose Damen and I’m praying, out loud I realize, to God to save him. Mumbling under my breath, please, please, save my husband, Lord. I scramble toward Stella.

  Something hits the ground with a whizz sound not too far from me, and soil spurts upward.

  “Motherfucker,” Damen shouts and unloads his weapon in the direction of the trees behind Costas.

  “People, this is consecrated ground,” the priest cries as more shots ring out.

  There are people running, women screaming, and so many weapons being unloaded the noise is deafening.

  Suddenly the bullets stop. It all just … stops.

  I lift my head and gasp. Stamatis is walking across the lawn toward Costas. His son has a gun trained on him, but Stamatis doesn’t falter. Costas holds his free hand in the air, halting the hail of bullets from his men.

  “You come here. To this holy service.” Stamatis’ voice carries on the wind. He’s calm, icily so.

  Costas is surrounded by men with long hair and leathers. The bikers. I wonder if the other goons he had with him have given up on him. It makes sense, because if Stamatis has cut him off, how would he pay them?

  A hand slips into mine, and I turn to see Stella kneeling beside me, both of us watching the action unfold.

  These men took her and hurt her. She must be terrified.

  Two of the bikers are on the ground, and one of our party is injured. A woman I don’t know. A man tends to her as all around us people sob and scuttle out of the way.

  I can’t see Liam anymore, or Andrius. The three ex-Spetsnaz soldiers Andrius brought with him are here, though, appearing from the greenery on the edge of the cemetery on either side of us. Alesso is right by me and Stella, legs apart, arms raised, his weapon trained on Costas.

  Damen has moved farther forward, his weapon also trained on Costas.

  “Son, do you have a death wish? Why would you do this?” Stamatis asks. The pain in his voice is real, ragged, and my aunty is pale. Her hands clutch at her throat as she watches the scene unfold.