Page 17 of Ruthless Vow

I’d thought she was loyal to the core. In that, I was wrong.

She is a viper. A snake. A traitor.

She’s also cunning, elusive, resilient. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.Mywolf.

I want to rip her clothes off, stroke her naked skin, push my cock down her throat, fuck her cunt while she moans and begs.

I want to mark her, own her.

The look on her face when she’d asked me if we were in a sex dungeon… For a second, I’d wanted to be. I’d wanted her bound and naked so I could play with her until she begged and sobbed and lost her fucking mind.

I shake my head. I must be out ofmyfucking mind.

I take the stairs two at a time, then slap open the metal door at the top. It opens to a massive empty warehouse. I stride to the office at the back and find Luca sitting in front of a laptop, my calendar open in front of him.

“You summoned me?” I say.

“Yeah,” he says, apparently missing my sarcasm. Or maybe choosing to ignore it.

He stares at the laptop, frowning.

“Because…” I prompt him.

“Cass is here,” he says.

“Where?”

“Forgot my phone in the car,” my brother says from the doorway behind me. “Just went out to grab it.” He takes a seat on the dark brown leather sofa against the far wall.

“How’s Dante?” I ask.

“Showered. Shaved. Got a haircut. Hasn’t had a drink in two days. He almost looks like himself,” Cass says.

“Good to hear,” I say. Our brother Dante blames himself for our father’s death. He believes that if he had been more vigilant, Enzo Bianchi would have failed. He’s wrong. It’s just going to take some time for him to accept it. Until then, we’re taking turns hanging out with him, having meals together, making sure he isn’t alone because he’s set himself on a course of self-destruction and we have no intention of letting him succeed. I had dinner with him a couple of nights ago. Cass saw him for lunch today. Damian and Alina are taking him for Sunday brunch. Sabina’s convinced him to join her for mini golf in the afternoon. Not sure how she accomplished that, but good for her.

“Got two pieces of information you might be interested in,” Cass says. “One is about the Ivanovs. The other might be.”

I hook my ankle around the leg of one of the office chairs and pull it out. “Go on,” I say as I sit.

“One of the men on the yacht, the guy with gray hair. Name’s Danila. He’s part of the Vasiliev syndicate from Chicago.”

“What’s he doing in Vegas?” I ask.

“Still looking for the answer to that,” Cass says. “Dante’s on it.”

I nod. “And the Ivanovs?”

“Word has it they’re moving 500 AK-47s, 200 RPG-7 launchers, fragmentation grenades, some night vision goggles, and body armor. It’s all coming from Belarus. Arriving at a private airstrip near Henderson on the 13th. Leaving Vegas for Mexico on the 25th. They’ll be using armored SUVs and private trucks for transportation.”

“Who’s the buyer?” I ask.

“Waiting for confirmation on that,” Cass says. “But it’s looking like the Scorpions.”

They’re a biker gang in control of drug trafficking routes between Nevada and California.

“Nicely done,” I say.

“Ah, the highest praise from my oldest brother. What more can a man want?” Cass grins.

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