Page 2 of Deceitful Oath

I hear the bell on the door jingle as I stuff the last bite of a haphazardly thrown-together sandwich into my mouth. My feet tingle, and my back aches when I stretch out of the seat.

I’m so fucking exhausted.

Dusting off my hands, I plaster on a smile and head out to greet this new customer. I cringe when I see it’s a family with five kids. The cleanup on this table alone is going to be the end of me.

Think of the savings jar, Lux, think of the savings jar.My daily mantra plays on repeat in my head as I take their order. That savings jar, and the possibility of it one day sending me to art school, is what gets me out of bed in the morning.

That savings jar propels me through my six a.m. package delivery gig and through cleaning up spilled milkshakes at Rocky’s all afternoon. It also paints a smile on my face as I deal with creepy dudes hitting on me at The Velvet Room at night while I pour their beers.

I duck into the kitchen and stick the order slip on the counter for Rocky to take care of. He’s busy prepping burgers for the dinner rush but nods at me, so I leave him to it. As I push through the swinging doors again, I realize I should probably tell Rocky about the dead guy.

I almost make it back to the kitchen when the front door flies open and a huge party walks in. They’ve got a very bouncy, very poorly trained dog with them. And he’s peeing on the floor.Oh no, Rocky’s not going to like that.

And just like that, all thoughts of mysterious deaths fly out of my head and I’m rushing toward the group, begging them to tie their dog up outside. I spend the rest of the afternoon movingat warp speed because, of course we’re busier than usual on a random Tuesday.

When evening rolls around, all I can think of is how the hell I’m going to make it through my shift at The Velvet Room without collapsing.

Chapter One

Rafael

“Are you sure?”

The doctor glances at the floor nervously and pushes his round glasses further up the bridge of his nose. I wait, glaring down at him, seething with anger.

“Yes, Mr. Romano,” he says quietly. “I can show you the toxicology reports.”

I smash my fist on the desk, sending papers and pens flying across the room. The doctor jumps and backs up a little, knowing well to avoid me when I’m angry. I take a deep breath, trying to center myself.It’s not his fault. Listen to the damn man.

“Show me.”

He reaches into his briefcase, rifling through stacks of papers. I can see his fingers shake. A bead of sweat slides down his thin nose, making his glasses slide down again. I grab his shoulder, and he flinches, looking whiter than a ghost.

“Relax,” I say, trying for an even tone and failing. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

He nods, gulping down some air, and continues to flip through papers. I watch him closely, knowing I’m making him nervous, but that’s what I do to people. This man has known me my entire life, and he’s still scared as shit.

They don’t call me The Wolf for nothing. I’m the stealthy, lethal loner of the Romano family—plus, I like to play with my dinner before I eat it.

Of course, the only ones who actually know who I am run in the same circles as me. Crime families, gangs, and criminals know me and fear me. Civilians? They wouldn’t take a second look at me. After all, wolves look a lot like dogs until you take a closer look at them.

Let’s just say I like to keep a very low profile.

Finally, he plucks a paper out of the stack and shakes it in front of me with a triumphant look on his face. I snatch it from his hands and scan the report.

Lethal levels of cyanide.

“As you can see,” the doctor says, pointing to the glaring truth, “he was most definitely poisoned.”

“Enzo,” I growl at my associate, shoving the paper back into the doctor’s hands. “Get everyone who was with him into my office. NOW.”

Enzo nods and slinks out of the room as I fall into my leather wingback chair. Pain radiates across my forehead, circling my temples and threatening to turn into a full-blown migraine. I reach for the crystal tumbler near me, pouring myself a hefty glass of bourbon.

I throw it back and let it burn through the pain. The doctor shifts nervously from foot to foot, staring at the floor. I bet he’s wishing it would open up and swallow him right now.

“You can go,” I say, waving him away. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

He nods and scurries out of my office, the heavy wooden door slamming behind him. I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, trying to steady my breath.

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