Page 81 of Ruthless Vows
I fall to my knees and lick his cock clean before climbing back to my feet with a little still on my tongue.
“Let me see your tongue,” he says, his devilish smile on full display as he moves his thumb to my bottom lip and tugs downward.
I stick it out for him, and he licks it clean before kissing me ferociously, like he can’t get enough. He palms my ass and then pins both my arms above my head as he breaks free for air. Both of us panting, he plants one more kiss on my sore swollen lips.
“You, angel, are a goddamn drug.”
Settlinginto my new life has been a bit of a culture shock.
Gone are the days of being chained to my house, aside from when I convinced my father to let me go to Remi’s. It’s been three days since the big family dinner, and I’m finally meeting up with my best friend. I couldn’t give a concise summary of the events that have unfolded even if I tried.
The nightmares are more frequent.
The ones with my brother.
They all typically end with me shooting him or sometimes just with nothing but him covered in blood. I always wake up drenched and out of it, ruined for hours after I’ve woken up.
Dante has been great to me, keeping to his promise of letting me in and not keeping me in the dark. I don’t know heavy details of what he and the rest of his men are up to, but I do know when he’s leaving, when to expect him back, and when I should be worried.
Yesterday, he and a few other capos finalized a move to buy up six gas stations across the city, in DeSantis territory, and the plan is some kind of tax-evasion deal. The math Dante was spitting at me while we were showering was astronomical if he and his men can pull this off. I don’t mind being in the dark about certain things, but I definitely enjoy knowing when I can relax and when I need to be on edge.
He came home with a deep gash on his forehead, and I finally got it out of him that their family doctor diagnosed him with a concussion after an altercation with somebody who owed the family money. I know better than to tell him to be careful.
It’s not in his blood.
“Ms. Giana.” One of Dante’s employees finds me in the kitchen.
I’ve requested to be called just plain Giana, but most of them refuse, so I’ve put in another request: no more Amato. I’m no longer one of them, and I don’t want to remember that life.
“Your friend has arrived. I’ve sat her in Mr. DeSantis’s living area.”
I thank the employee. I’m fairly certain his name is Joseph, but I’m still learning names and don’t want to mess up.
I travel down two separate hallways, each with very different décor and style, and wind my way into the one Remi is waiting in.
The minute she notices me, she’s on her feet and running toward me.
“You bitch!” she cries out as she crashes into me, her familiar scent of amber enveloping me. Remi grabs onto my arms and pulls back to look at me, and I swear she looks a year or two older in the time we’ve been apart. “I was so fucking worried about your ass, Giana.”
She’s rocking a no-makeup look, beautiful as always, but she’s changed up her hair. The pink is gone, and it’s been replaced by a vibrant blue.
“Just my ass?” I joke, and she playfully slaps my arm.
“I swear to God, G, if you ever do this to me again, you’re paying for my fucking Botox.”
I laugh and pull her in again, squeezing her tightly.
For the next three hours, we sit together on an oversized black leather sectional, and I update her on how I got from point a: my almost wedding to the cartel, to point b: the sex club owner’s living room. We laugh, and we drink cheap vodka she brought from her house, and we laugh some more.
It feels so normal. I left out a lot of the dark parts, like me taking part in the killing and how we’re now going to be constantly looking over our shoulders, but I told her the parts I felt comfortable with.
“I don’t know if I’m more annoyed that I just thought your dad was some big-time jewelry dude or that you kept that you were a goddamn mafia princess from me for years. My best friend is a badass babe.”
I clutch at my stomach, as it physically aches from our hours of laughter and catching up.
“This DeSantis fella must be really good down under…or maybe you have a magical pootang. First man who sleeps with you scales a freaking building and picks off cartel members… Cartel members, G! Whatever you have, I wish I had more of it.”
I deflate a bit because Remi is pure magic in a freaking walking body. She’s the fiercest, most badass woman I know.