Page 6 of Forced Vows

My brother is so gone on my sister-in-law, her happiness is more important to him than his own. That's not the example our father set for us.

He only ever had eyes for our mother, but that affection and care was always tempered by his responsibilities as don. I don't think anything tempers my brother's love for his wife.

I like my sister-in-law. A lot. Her brain and perspective on life is unique and I can't wait to see what kind of kids she and my brother make.

But I don't ever want to be that wrapped up in a woman. Not my wife. Not even my daughter if I have one. Caring too much is dangerous. Emotions cloud the judgment and make doing the hard things even harder.

I'm not capable of that kind of devotion anyway.

I don't know how Catalina broke through the scarred walls of my brother's heart, but I'm pretty sure that there's nothing left of that organ behind my own.

My sister-in-law is the reason Sev is so determined to cement an alliance with the Irish. He'll keep her and any children they have safe at any cost.

The other reason Sev wants this alliance, one he's never said aloud, even to me, is my brother's plan to be the next godfather.

Don Caruso's health is failing. Our intel is that he has a year, two at most. When he dies, Sev will need alliances both inside and outside the mafia to guarantee his succession to the title.

A blood alliance with the most powerful Irish clan in New York and one of the most powerful mobs in the country is a good start.

Even if it means marrying his brother to the enemy to get it.

Chapter 4: RÓISE

My heart is beating so hard it hurts.

Waiting in line to be admitted to a club in a city with no mafia or mob presence, I rub damp palms down the short black skirt of my dress.

I'm dressed for the part I'm playing tonight: young, twenty-something, looking for an anonymous one-night stand.

No mob princess here.

I let one of the makeup artists in my acting seminar do my face. With the dramatic makeup bringing out the green in my eyes and contoured to make my cheekbones pop, even I don't recognize myself.

She also put me in a platinum blonde wig so tightly attached to my head that if I yank on it, it won't budge. I tried.

This chick knows what she's doing.

Silver strappy stiletto sandals add three inches to my five-feet-four inches. My tight black dress lifts my boobs and creates cleavage, making my breasts look bigger than they are. Which is necessary.

The hem hits high on my thighs, adding to my persona for the night. And bonus? My stubby legs look borderline long and sleek.

Although I drugged my security detail and left them sleeping peacefully at the hotel…what? I didn't hurt them. They're fine. Just…tired. And unlikely to remember anything tomorrow morning.

But seriously, I can't afford to be recognized while I'm out on my mission to choose my first sex partner. For his sake as much…or yeah, let's face it, or definitely more than for mine. No one can ever know who he is.

Mafia men make Cro-Magnon man seem advanced in certain ways.

I mean, I wouldn't even take the risk if I wasn't on the other side of the country from my family right now. This acting seminar in Portland, Oregon is part of my Fine Arts program and has been on the calendar since September.

Lucky for me, the timing is perfect for my plan to take back a tiny slice of control over my life and person.

The fact Uncle Brogan would have an aneurism if he knew? Totally a bonus.

The doorman gives my fake I.D. a once over before letting me inside without a word. I immediately head to the bar for some liquid courage. I wish I could have invited one or all of my classmates to come with me tonight.

There's security in numbers, but no one can know what I'm doing, or who I do it with.

Waiting for the bartender to mix my Manhattan feels right. In a few months, maybe a year? Wow, how do I not know the timing on this marriage thing? Anyway, sometime in the near future I'll be moving to Manhattan, territory for the Genovese mafia.