Page 20 of These Deadly Vows

There’s nowhere to run.

No one to turn to.

I’m on my own.

No one is coming to save me.

I square my shoulders and stride to the bar to pour myself a drink consumed by hate for what I’ve been forced into.

A marriage of contract to the most powerful criminal in the state. For he now holds the better part of Chicago while I’ll inherit my father’s fortune. Making me richer than God on one condition.

I produce a male heir to carry on the legacy.

I know that will never come to fruition, but my husband doesn’t.

Amber colored liquor burns down my throat. Once again, I’m splattered in the blood of another. Wordlessly, I go up to the bedroom to shower and change into something clean.

Scrubbing my skin raw won’t erase what’s already transpired. All I can do is try to survive this nightmare. This new reality.

I know nothing about being married to a biker. There’s no handbook. No one who gives a damn to explain the way this world turns.

With a towel secure around my torso, I return to the bedroom to find something to sleep in. Not that I think I’ll be able to stop my mind from racing. In one of the dresser drawers, I discover a white tank top. It will serve the purpose. In another drawer are new, skimpy underwear with the tags attached. I help myself to a pair and wonder if these things are here for me or if they belong to someone else. Not that it truly matters. I’m in need and this is what is available. My search for pajama bottoms or shorts leaves me frustrated.

The bedroom door swings open, and Ghost enters the room. His eyes land on my nipples protruding through the tank.

Heat flashes in his stare as he takes in the sight of me in the barely there scrap of lace someone in this place considers underwear. He stomps toward the closet as he discards his suit, leaving it in a crumpled pile on the floor.

No underwear. I’ll give him one thing. The naked view from the back isn’t a hardship to appreciate. I’m not sure of his age. Only that he is older than me. He has a nice ass and beautiful swirls of ink across the expanse of his back, along with the club’s emblem. A skull with a crow sitting on top of it.

He shrugs a dark tee over his head and pulls on a pair of jeans before throwing a denim pair of cutoffs my way. “Put these on.”

“Why?”

“Party. Downstairs.”

“I’m not in the mood to celebrate.” I want to attend another party like I want a hole in my head. Happy fucking birthday to me. When I blew out my candles, this wasn’t what I wished for. Not exactly. But I guess this is what people mean when they say God has a sense of humor. He must be laughing his ass off at the hand he’s dealt me.

“I didn’t ask.”

Reluctantly, I pull the denim over my hips. I’m not ready to test his patience further than I have. Not yet. My emotional wounds are too fresh. Too much has transpired tonight, and his tone is full of venom.

“Some of the guys will move your shit in tomorrow.”

I lick my lips and choose my words carefully. “I was thinking I could live at my house still. You could come visit to consummate things. That way, I’m not in the way of things here.”

Ghost chews over my suggestion. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? The second you get a taste of freedom, I’ll never see you again. That’s not going to work for me, princess. You’re my wife and it’s important now more than ever that we’re a united front. I’m not your family’s only enemy. I simply got to you first.”

His words are harsh, but they penetrate.

With my father gone and me tied to Ghost, he’s inherited all the problems that come with being at the top. Everything that my father owned becomes mine the second his death is announced, well it all goes into a trust until I provide a son. I don’t know how that delicate situation will be handled.

Ghost will gain all of my father’s territory by proxy because I’m his wife as long as he earns the respect of the famiglia with the birth of a son or at least the promise of one. In a way, it works like the succession of royalty. I’m an only child, therefore the role goes to my husband and then to our son when that time comes. Only that’s not going to happen.

This is all too much.

I stare at the silver infinity wedding band on my left ring finger. The weight of the meaning behind the design is far too great. He intends to keep me.

Forever or until death parts us.

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