Page 22 of These Deadly Vows

“Boo? Nah. No one is going to fuck with you.”

Her name is Boo. Heat flares across my cheeks and flashes across the back of my neck. And he thinks she won’t spit in my drink. What does a ghost say? It says boo. I shouldn’t care that her nickname (surely, it’s not her real name) pairs with my husband’s road name. I watch her actions behind the bar as she makes my drink, tracking her every move until she slides the glass on the table. The tumbler sails across the black tabletop and Ghost catches it, preventing the tumbler from landing in my lap.

“Oops.” the bitch puts a hand to her lips and blows a kiss before she traipses back to the bar.

“What a warm welcome. I’m sure we’re going to be besties and painting each other’s toenails in no time.”

“Ol’ Ladies don’t exactly fraternize with the whores, princess.”

“Are there any women here you haven’t had your dick in?” I automatically regret speaking when he runs a fingertip along my collarbone.

“There’s at least one,” his husky voice drawls in my ear in a hum that sends a shiver through me.

I clear my throat and scoot away from him as he lets out a low chuckle. The scar on his cheek flexes with the movement, and I want to ask how he earned it. My fingers ache to touch the raised skin.

“You know I’m going to fuck you, Adeline.”

His words stop all thoughts of touching him.

He’s right. I know it’s coming. He’ll want to claim his prize and plant his damn seed.

“Are you on birth control?”

“Are you?” I counter trying to take his focus off the main thing he wants from me. I can’t tell him the truth. Not yet.

“Not sure if your father ever told you about the birds and the bees, but it doesn’t work that way. I’m safe if you’re worried. I have a question for you, though. I know the traditions. Are you untouched?”

He wants to know if I’ve remained pure. A virgin. Tradition is that a mafia bride is a virgin. A gift to her husband and a sign of respect and loyalty.

The morning after and sometimes even on the same night, grooms make a big deal about showing off the bloody sheets. To prove the union is a successful one.

I find it all barbaric.

If I were smart, I’d have found someone to do the deed when I had the chance.

Of course, father prevented that. I had armed guards and a private tutor when I wasn’t attending an all-girls’ school. The closest I ever came to second base was getting felt up over my clothes by one of Carla’s brothers, who was the world’s biggest dork.

Such a flipping nerd that my father didn’t worry about his being around when I was allowed at Carla’s for a sleepover. Dante and Carmichael were older and too busy screwing half of Chicago to pay attention to me, but Leo was always around. He’s now an accountant. I should have leveraged for Father to allow me to marry him. He’s living a quiet, boring life in the suburbs with his wife and two dogs. And no one gives a shit that they haven’t had children.

I suck down the juice and liquor through the straw and Ghost signals for a refill for me. I’m going to need the liquid courage to go through with this. If I’m lucky, I’ll pass out or puke before we get that far.

The party rages on around us. More men come by the table to pay their respect while others keep their distance. I don’t know what to make of any of it. In some ways, these bikers are like my father’s soldiers, except they wear denim and leather in place of suits.

“What was with the suit?”

“Tradition,” he clips the one-word answer and draws my face closer to his as rock ‘n roll belts in the background.

His dark eyes burn into me, right to my lips, and I just know he’s going to kiss me.

I’m not drunk enough for this yet.

“C’mere, princess.” He shifts me, pulling me into his lap to where I’m straddling him. His erection presses straight into my crotch. “Arms around my neck. Now we have some business to attend to.” His fingers stroke my jaw. That small glimmer of tenderness from before is back in his expression.

“What’s that?”

“I’m going to claim you. The famiglia has their traditions, of course, but the club has some as well.”

“Like what?” I squirm as the snake in his pants jerks.

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