Page 7 of Corrupt Vows

Chapter 3

Serenity Vivaldi

Bitterness coats my tongue.I don’t know what I ever did to make Nico Russo hate me, but I can’t recall ever receiving a single kind word from him.

Maybe it’s the eight-year age gap between us, but his sister is younger than I am, and he’s always been sweet with her.

He’s too dangerous for me. The air practically sizzles with the lethal menace wafting from him.

I tuck my resentment and dread into a little box in the back of my mind.

Alfonso would never scowl at me or threaten me like this. He’s more brains than brawn, which suits me much better than Nico’s unyielding ruthlessness.

Yet, as I spin on my heel to return to the kitchen, I rub the ache in my chest and ignore the edgy, interested heat between my legs.

I need today to end already. Between my sister’s meltdown at the hospital, my father’s cryptic summons, and whatever surprise my brother Giorgio has just sprung on my parents, I’m not sure I can handle much more.

I grab a clean washcloth, drop a scoop of ice in the center, and twist the fabric into an ice pack as I rush down the hall.

My cheeks heat as I pick my way through the melting ice cubes in the hall, but I ignore my embarrassment and continue into the study. I make a wide circle around Nico’s shoulder as he overflows the couch’s armrest and press the ice pack to Giorgio’s face. He hisses, but doesn’t push me away.

“Don’t move,mio figlio,” mamma scolds him, no doubt using the term of endearment since we have a visitor. She pulls the thread tight before going in for another stitch on his bicep. He grimaces but doesn’t otherwise complain.

My stomach lurches. I close my eyes and breathe through my nose, but the scent of iron makes my nausea worse, so I blink and focus on the bookshelf behind papà’s desk. Ugly memories nibble at the edges of my mind, but I banish them with my fear and grab the side of my brother’s head to hold him still.

“It’s just a scratch, mamma. I’ll be fine,” he hisses.

“I told you I’d fix you up if you ever came home like this again, so be still,” she answers in a faux sweet voice.

Resentment infects my veins as I relive the cruelties she’s shown me throughout the years. My fingers go numb.

“Shit, Senny, are you trying to crush my skull?” Giorgio complains.

I relinquish the ice pack to him and step away.

“Watch your language around your mother,” my father says from the chair at the head of the sitting area.

A muscle ticks in Nico’s jaw.

“Yes, sir,” Giorgio responds.

“Serenity, get our guest a drink,” my father demands.

It feels like a trap. I swallow, turn toour guest, and ask him his preference.

At his order of a whiskey on the rocks, I offer him the most cordial smile I can manage and pretend like my senses aren’t hyper focused on his presence as I turn, walk to the bar, and fill a glass for him.

“Be a doll and get your brother a drink, too,” my father instructs.

I flip over a second glass and pour two fingers of my brother’s favorite, but when I turn around, I nearly drop both glasses at the expression on Nico’s face. My stomach freefalls, heat blooms low in my abdomen, and fear steals my breath. I’m not sure why he’s angry, or why he’s staring at me like I’m his next meal, but my body lights up. Dormant nerve endings awaken. Electricity zaps from my toes to the top of my head. My core clenches and my nipples harden.

Self-disgust curdles my insides.

I’ve hit an all-time low, lusting after my sister’s soon-to-be fiancé. Besides, Nico is too cold, dangerous, and violent. He doesn’t like me, and I don’t like him.

I steel my spine and offerour guesthis drink first, aware of how he avoids touching my hand, then I give my brother his liquor.

“Sit down there, Serenity,” my father says with a gesture to the spot on the couch closest to his chair. The couch where Nico sits. The couch opposite my mother and brother.

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