Page 9 of Vow to Me

He’s sat on the corner of the bed, the opposite side to where I’m sleeping, dressed in grey sweatpants and a black t shirt that showcases the tattoos covering both his arms, I couldn’t see them yesterday because his suit jacket covered them, but if I had to guess, I’m guessing he’s covered in them. His hair is ruffled, so it’s clear he’s not long since gotten out of bed. His eyes are staring into mine as if they hold the answers to the universe.

“Not particularly, but I’m also not used to having women in my house. Who knows, I might just become a creeper now that you’re here,” he deadpans.

I roll my eyes before I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling, “I’d rather you didn’t, I’ll have to start sleeping with knives under my pillow. If I accidentally stab myself in my sleep, I’ll happily kill you in yours,” I say and turn my head to face him. His eyes lock on mine, and I hold his gaze, it’s as if he’s challenging me to look away.Keep trying sweetie, it isn’t gonna happen.

“Get up, wife. We need to have a chat,” he says before getting up and strolling out the room without a backwards glance.

Fucking wonderful, I can’t wait!

I check the time on my phone and see it’s only six a.m.What the fuck is wrong with him!?

Sighing, I hoist myself out of bed and grab my toiletry bag from my suitcase, I’ll have to unpack at some point, but that can fucking wait until later.

After using the bathroom and washing my face, not bothering to get dressed. Hope he doesn’t have an issue with me wearing my pajamas around the house because like fuck am I getting dressed at this time of morning. I make my way through the apartment and into the kitchen. I stay silent while I make my coffee, keeping my back to him. Then I take a seat opposite him at the kitchen island. Coffee mug clasped in my hand; I wait patiently for him to start.

“From everything your father told us, we assumed you were a sheltered Mafia princess. I was expecting an airhead socialite afraid of her own shadow who would spend all of my money on shit you don’t need. Clearly, that’s not the fucking case. Care to explain why Bianchi told you were a spoilt little girl?” He asks, I’m not sure whether he’s impressed with me or pissed that I’m not a brat, who the fuck knows?

“Honestly?” I ask, looking at him. He gives me a nod, so I continue, “Daddy dearest thinks I’m the perfect princess, who spends her days reading and cooking, preparing myself to be a good housewife and pop out as many kids as my husband wishes. He thinks I’m weak, with no means to defend myself and probably sees me as more of a nuisance. He’s underestimated me my whole life.”

He cocks his head to the side, pinning me with his gaze.

“Why would he think that? Clearly, you’re capable of taking care of yourself, you’ve obviously trained hard if you were able totake down three men twice your size. Why would you make him think differently? And how did you manage to train without him noticing while living under his roof?” he asks.

“Before Mama died, she sat me down and explained that one day I’d be traded as part of a deal. She told me that while my father would try and choose a good match for me, sometimes things aren’t always as they seem. One of the guards who was issued with protecting me was my mother's friend's son. He started training me in martial arts at the age of twelve. At thirteen, he started teaching me how to stay silent, move around without being seen or heard, and he taught me the basics in hacking in case I ever needed to escape and wipe any traces of myself on security cameras. At fifteen, he started my weapons training, how to shoot, the best places to slice and stab a man, knife throwing and more. The lessons stopped last year when he died while out doing a job for my father,” I say, taking a deep breath.

I’ll always be thankful to Alessi for my lessons, he was always like a big brother to me. Unfortunately, he died last year when he went on a mission. I looked into it to make sure my father hadn’t found out what he was doing and set him up, but there was nothing that pointed towards it being foul play.

“I knew that if my father found out what Alessi was teaching me, he’d see it as a threat to him with me being his only heir. So, while he thought that I was out at a salon getting my hair done or out getting a fucking pedicure or some shit, I was actually training.”

He stares at me with compassion in his gaze, I fucking hate it. “I'm sorry you had to live like that Izzy, I promise that I’llnever lay a hand on you, I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t want to do. You will have choices here; it may take some getting used to for the both of us but I’m sure we can make this work. The only thing I’ll ask is that you take guards with you when you leave the apartment, especially now while we’re at war. I won’t compromise on your safety, even though I know you can take care of yourself. Another thing that I absolutely will not tolerate is you being with other men. I know we didn’t marry for love, but I won’t have my wife sleeping with other men, the same as I won’t be sleeping with other women.”

I stare at him for a beat, he plans on being faithful? That’s a given for a woman, but it’s unheard of in Chicago for the men not to take mistresses. It seems the Romano family really does have values when it comes to family.

Staring into his eyes, I can see the truth written all over his face. He really is going into this as if it were a real marriage.

“I’ll agree to being faithful as long as you do the same. I’ll also agree to any security precautions you see fit during while you’re still at war with the Colombians and Russians, but once the dust is settled, I’d like you to reconsider me having a guard twenty-four-seven,” I say, I’d rather not have anyone following me around at all but figure it’s better to compromise, look at me being all mature in this marriage.

He stands before nodding. “You have a deal, once we have everything figured out with the other organizations, we can chat about getting rid of your detail, or at least relaxing it,” he says, and I whisper my thanks.

“I wanted to show you how much I appreciated your wedding gift,” he says with a sly smile before reaching into a bag on the counter.Where the hell did that come from?

He sets a jar on the counter, but it’s too far away for me to see what it is. When all I do is gape at him, he slides it closer to me.

Wait, is that?What the fuck!

The man has ‘gifted me’ a tongue in a fucking jar.

And is that… flesh positioned to look like a bow?

“I’ll leave you to settle in, I need to get ready for the day and get to work. I’ll see you tonight,mia regina,”he says with a smirk before coming to stand in front of me and pressing a kiss to my forehead while I’m still staring at the jar.

And then he’s gone, leaving me to sit and stare at a jar containing a fucking human tongue, who I’m guessing belonged to Marcello or one of his sons.

Weird turn of events aside, it turns out my husband may not be a total and complete asshole after all. Still, I’d rather not have this shit in the house.

Unsure of what the fuck I’m supposed to do with it, I leave it where it is and retreat to my room, intent of going back to sleep, but not before Luca barges in uninvited once again and putting his number in my phone in case I happen to need anything.

What a fucking strange morning.

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