Page 5 of Risky Vows

Her eyes meet mine. "That answer works, too."

I need to study her from a better angle. I slide into the seat next to her and trace her jawline, and she drops her gaze to my finger. She shudders under my touch, and a part of me wonders if it's fear or awareness. I haven't done anything to her to prompt this reaction… but I'm sure she’s heard stories.

"We stay out of each other's way," she says, scooting to the other side of the seat. "You can do your, hmm, extracurricular activities, and I'll happily look the other way. We'll make sure our families believe we're content and thriving."

So, she wants to strike a deal already? I shake my head. "Amara, look at you. My little rat."

She frowns. "Rat?"

"Rats can do puzzles. They're brilliant animals, underrated, but they learn to survive." Rats also wait until things are quiet or humans are asleep to look for crumbs. Something about her tells me she'd be that kind of person. Sneaky. Untrustworthy.

"What does being a rat have to do with anything?"

"You're my wife, Amara. And you'll do as I say."Did you think that the biggest hurdle was surviving your annoying family? Well, get ready. You'll have to survive me.

"So I'm exchanging one prison for another."

"You're exchanging the light of shadows with your parents for the spotlight of being my wife. I could think of worse fates."

The specks of gold shine in her irises, and for a moment, I'm unsure if she has more hazel or green in her eyes. Does it even matter? Still, it's striking.

"In your line of work, I don't doubt it," she says.

"This rat has some bite." My fingertips itch to outline her plump lips, to coax her mouth open, and insert my finger inside—then my cock. But I can't fuck her yet. I'll wait until tonight, after the reception. The anticipatory sensation catches a hold of me.

"Yes, us sewer rats learn early on."

"You have more personality than I expected."

She rolls her eyes. "Is that a problem for you?" Her stance shows confidence, but an undercurrent of tension lurks in her voice.

My gaze drops to her tits. She wears a wedding dress with a hefty price tag. It's elegant, but at the same time, I can see the curve of her epic tits. I've always enjoyed big breasts, but hers seem to be next level. When I focus on her eyes again, I notice she's blushing. She must have noticed my interest. "Oh, no,cara mia. That might just be the solution."

4

Massimo

"How are you doing?"my brother Dante asks. He's the second in line, only one year younger than me, closely followed in age by Rocco and Nico. We've been at the reception in one of Chicago's most exclusive venues for the last hour.

The wedding organizer had excellent taste. Even I can appreciate the romantic elegance of the lush shades of gold and white, with plenty of expensive flowers and world-class catering service. They flow well with the live band and the uniformed servers milling around the well-dressed guests.

"Good." I take a sip of my scotch. I've been hiding in this corner for twenty minutes after being polite and available to the guests initially. I watched the hustle and bustle until my brothers found me.

Dante taps my shoulder, his forest green eyes amused. "You're the picture of wedding bliss."

"I did what I had to do."

"That's right," Nico says. "Cin cin,"he cheers in Italian, clinking his tumbler to mine, the way he did when we werekids and had sodas in our cups. "You secured us all a great opportunity. We'll dominate the area. The Santinis can kiss our asses."

"Yeah. Also, the Montefiores won't fuck with us now we're in the same family." Besides being the head of our family and a jack of all illegal trades, I'll also run the Montefiore's businesses. I've already started inventorying their assets and what needs to be done. My team will be collecting some heavy debt. The ones where limbs may go missing if people don't pay up.

In our family, Dante takes care of the traffic of illegal weapons. Rocco is responsible for the gambling operations, and Nico deals with drug suppliers and other schemes.

"Won't they? I hope not," Rocco says.

I detect a trace of suspiciousness in his voice, but I ignore it. I share his concerns, but don't want to discuss it tonight.

My father joins us. Aldo Montefiore may be in his mid-sixties, but he doesn't show it. He still has a full head of silver hair and a lean, muscular body that some younger men can't achieve. Needless to say, my dad's bed is never empty. "That photographer was looking for you," he says. "He wants more pictures."

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