Page 16 of His Vicious Vow
“We can have a good marriage. I will respect you and give you what makes you happy.”
Biting my tongue, I don’t open my eyes. I wish I was still high.
“Can you answer me one question?” I guess he takes my silence as a yes. “You don’t talk to anyone in the Outfit except Tony Sabatini. Why did you talk to me?”
“Because what you said was so massively unbelievable I couldn’t help myself. Tony Sabatini is the only man who genuinely cared whether I spoke or not. He was also the only one not to demand I speak to him. He just let me be. If I don’t talk back to you, you’ll take it as compliance. I’m not compliant. I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want to marry anyone.” There is no way I’m going to admit I was shocked by how gorgeous he is and it pulled words out of me without me even aware I was talking.
His sigh fills the car. “Have you really not said a word to Carlo since you were five years old?”
“Not one word. I was five years old crying in a hospital bed, begging my mother not to leave. I’d been in the hospital for four days without seeing her. Only my nonna came to see me every day. I’d already had one surgery and they thought I might need another. I was terrified. My mother finally came. But she was going to leave me alone again after what only felt like a few minutes. I knew if she left I wouldn’t see her again for several days. Carlo told me to shut up, no one wanted to hear me crying like a baby. So I shut up. It didn’t stop him from talking to me, telling me shit I didn’t want to hear.” I don’t admit I found immense satisfaction Carlo begged me with tears in his eyes for me to say something, anything when I was ten years old—I just walked away from him. He never asked again.
“Once we’re married, you never have to see Carlo or your mother again—if you don’t want to. I understand leaving your sister isn’t easy. I’m willing to buy a place here so you can visit her and she’s always welcome in our home. We have a jet you or she can use anytime you want. I’m aware you cosplay and get high due to being unhappy with the life you feel you’re forced into. Those things have to stop. You can replace them by being whoever you want to be in Vegas. Are there going to be times in Vegas when I need you to be someone else than who you want to be? Yes. It will come when we have to see and be seen out. I’m not who I want to be when I’m out. We all have parts to play.” He looks over at me as we stop at a light.
It never crossed my mind he would be understanding, especially with telling me I couldn’t cosplay anymore. His admission he has to pretend to be something he doesn’t want to be surprises me, I guess I thought mafia men were unapologetically themselves all the time. Especially with all those tattoos on him.
“I preferred Xanax and Klonapin. But when I went off them the withdrawal was horrible. I didn’t think I was taking them all that often. The weed is easier and I don’t have to explain myself to get it.” The words are out before I’m aware of them. Now that he knows I decide to tell him everything—the better for him to get I’m too messed up and not worth his time. “I have panic attacks.”
The car stops in front of the Drake hotel. I’ve always wanted to see inside the place. “Panic attacks? I’m sorry. I’ve heard those are scarier than what causes them for people. Natasha is in contact with a therapist to set up appointments when you’re ready. Where were you getting the Xanax and Klonapin?”
“We can’t just sit here.” I mutter as the doorman is waiting to open my door.
Sighing, he nods before getting out of the car.
His hand goes down to the small of my back as he gets to me on the sidewalk. Once again I jump. Thankfully he doesn’t say a word as he guides me into the hotel.
“It’s so nice.” Slips out of me as he urges me up the stairs when we’re inside.
“You’ve never been here?” He asks as he walks us into the gorgeous restaurant.
I shake my head. The place is beautiful. I’m unable to take my eyes off the enormous flower arrangement in the middle of the fountain. “Celia and I were invited for Tony Sabatini’s wedding and reception that was held here but I had strep throat and felt like hell.”
Sandro murmurs low to the hostess, her eyes go wide, and she catches the attention of someone behind her. They whisper a few words to each other. She comes back to us with a smile. She walks us out of the dining room past the elevators down a long hall. I look to Sandro, he just winks at me while the hand at my back urges me forward.
We’re shown into a large dining room. There is one long table that seats twenty people. It’s only set for two at the very end across from each other. A long row of candles are lit in the middle of the table stopping two chairs from where the place settings are. An enormous chandelier glows dimly above us. Light classical music plays low from unseen speakers.
The hostess sets menus at the table and tells us someone will be back to take our order. Sandro follows her, murmuring something to her, she pauses before nodding. He closes the door behind her with a click I hear over the music playing.
Being alone with him feels dangerous. In public or not. “Why are we in here?”
A dark eyebrow goes up. Yet he says nothing as he stalks toward me. Even though I’ve been raised my whole life to never turn my back on my enemy, I do. I fake interest in one of the long windows, staring blindly outside. Only to be in awe of the view. It becomes my whole focus, forgetting Sandro completely until I feel him at my back.
There are only a few inches between us, yet his body heat is burning into me. “It’s a nice view outside. Mine in here is better.”
I try to move only to find he’s done that thing where his hands come around me to lay flat against the glass, trapping me only inches from him. Like earlier Sandro all around me melts everything in me, my brain, my body, my bones, and my will to fight him. “Someone is coming.” I push the words out with the last dregs of air in my lungs.
“I told her to give us at least ten minutes.” He bends his head but he’s so tall he barely grazes my temple as he whispers the words against my skin.
Wrapping my arms around me, I’m fighting him and my body wet heat flooding between my thighs “You can’t…in only ten minutes.” I hate the way I sound like I’m pleading.
“That sounds like a challenge, my dear wife. I love a challenge.” He growls the words into my skin. Hot, velvet his tongue traces down my neck and oh my fucking god the electric shock is fiercer this time—my legs give out from under me again.
The bastard chuckles, hot air runs down my neck. I’m up off my feet with my back pressed against a brick wall, a brick wall on fire. A strong arm holds me up against him. Seconds later I’m in his lap and holy fucking shit he is not that big. He—oh god it’s real it’s so damn real.
This time it’s a laugh. Rich, loud, and so damn sexy although it sounds a little rusty. He moves my legs to the outside of his strong legs then opens them wide. I want to tell him no. I want to close my legs—but I can’t. All I can do is watch and feel as one large hand runs along the inside of my right thigh.
“I love this dress.” He murmurs into my ear.
I give him more of my neck, he runs his tongue along my heated skin. The blunt fingers running along the wet slit between my swollen lower lips aren’t a shock, my body was waiting, wanting them. I sink lower in his lap, opening wide for him. “Good girl.” He whispers into my ear.