Page 61 of Ruthless Vow

In less than an hour,Sabina’s stylist single-handedly gets me ready for this impromptu family dinner. She trims and styles my hair and has magically made it look a thousand percent better. She’s made it so the ragged layers and choppy bits seem like they’re supposed to look that way. She skillfully applies makeup on me—eyeliner, shadow, mascara, highlight, bronzer, blush, lipstick— a skill I have never acquired. It’s not gaudy, not overdone. I still look like me. A me with an effortlessly polishedappearance worthy of the best social media photo filter. And she helps me pick out an outfit from the wardrobe Leo acquired for me—a simple ivory silk sheath dress by The Row that fits like a dream. Add plain, low-heeled pumps, a gold chain necklace, and a thick gold bangle bracelet to finish the red-carpet worthy look, and…

I’m all ready for my execution.

Leo appears to escort me downstairs. He’s wearing a crisp charcoal dress shirt with the top button undone, baring a V of tattooed skin, the thorny vines caressing the base of his neck. His black, slim fit trousers hug his lean waist and muscled thighs. Black loafers. A matching belt. He is the perfect blend of sophistication and authority.

He pauses a moment, his dark eyes scanning me from head to foot.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “You’re beautiful, little wolf.”

The word isn’t one I’ve ever thought applies to me, but I choose not to argue with him. He’s entitled to his opinion.

My heart thunders in my chest as I take his arm. He leads me downstairs and outside to where his family are already seated at the dark walnut table that’s been set up in the curtain-draped cabana next to the shimmering pool. In the centre of the table is a long, low arrangement of succulents and desert flowers and tealights in small glass orbs. Lanterns hang from the overhead beams.

Around the table, his siblings are laughing and joking, relaxed.

My gaze moves across each person in turn.

Damian. Dark hair. Straight slashes of brows over dark eyes. Three-day scruff that’s artfully maintained. Tattoos peek out from the open collar of his white shirt and decorate the backs of his hands.

Next to him is Alina, Damian’s girlfriend. Long, pale-gold hair. Blue eyes. Gorgeous features. A figure that’s all stunning curves and endless legs.

Next to Alina is Cassio. Thick, wavy blond hair. Light blue eyes. A natural curl to the corners of his mouth that makes him look like he’s always smiling. But despite his fair coloring and easy-going aura, the slash of his cheekbones and the hard line of his jaw mark him as a Russo.

Across from Alina is Dante. Light brown hair. Green eyes. His nose is straight and a little narrow, his features a masterpiece of symmetry. The best way to describe him is too perfect to be real.

Next to him is Sabina. Beautiful, icy Sabina. A powerhouse in a small package. Dark brown hair. Pale blue eyes. Like a lake in winter.

For a moment, they don’t notice our approach. And then they do. Conversation comes to a halt. Any laughter, any smiles, fade away to nothing.

I focus on Sabina. For a moment, there is no discernible disdain in her gaze. Perhaps I look so different in my unfamiliar polished state that she doesn’t recognize me at first glance.

But then the warmth leaves her eyes in an instant, replaced by ice.

“And there she is,” she says aloud, ever word razor-sharp.

“Here I am,” I agree softly. Leo’s seat is at the head of the table. He pulls out the chair to the right of it—the one across from Damian and next to Dante—and holds the back while I sit.

There is silence for several long, uncomfortable moments. We’re in Las Vegas, and I know logically that it’s hot outside. But it feels like we’re having a picnic in the center of Antarctica.

Leo remains standing directly behind me. He places his hands on my shoulders.

“I’ve given you all intel on the situation here,” he says. “What we’re doing to find Bianca Moretti and bring her down. Our search for Nicole’s sister, Sofia.” Then his tone hardens and his fingers tighten a little on my shoulders. “Nicole is now under my protection. She is here. With me. This is not up for debate. This is a fact. And it’s one you will all need to accept.”

Again, silence.

And then…

Damian raises his glass of red wine. “Let’s put the past behind us.”

“Start fresh,” Alina says, with a slight nod in my direction, her expression kind. I remember the night I first met her on the yacht. She’d been wary, uncomfortable, Leo doing everything he could to terrify her because he thought she was a spy. I’d squeezed her hand in reassurance. I feel like her nod is a little reassurance in return.

“Start fresh,” Cassio agrees, raising his glass.

“Fine with me,” Dante says. There’s wine in front of him, but it appears to be untouched. He raises his ice water instead. “If Leo’s cool, I’m cool.”

They collectively glance at their sister, who hasn’t budged an inch or shifted her death glare away from me. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her expression sour.

“Leo explained it to me literally while I was in the car on my way here,” she says. “About your sister. About your aunt. About the lies she told you. How you nearly died in the desert.”

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