Page 8 of Corrupt Vows

Unease creeps up my spine. This is wrong. I don’t want to sit between my father and the eldest son of the Russo family. The menace wafting from each man terrifies me.

I sit and wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans before leaning back and weaving my fingers together on my lap. Even with the throw pillow on the otherwise empty cushion between us, my side tingles in awareness of him, but I ignore Nico and focus on my family.

Mamma tapes a bandage over Giorgio’s wound and closes the first aid box. Without a word, she gathers the supplies and disappears into the hall.

Fear curdles my stomach as silence descends. Nico swirls his glass as it dangles from his tattooed fingers, filling the room with the sound of clinking ice.

Mamma returns and sits across from me. Worms eat at my belly. It feels wrong to be on the opposite couch from my family.

In fact, it’s weird Nico is here without his father. They usually come together.

My unease grows.

Nico swirls his ice again as Giorgio drains his drink and clacks his empty glass down on the table.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice. I know you’re a busy man, so I’ll get right to the point,” Matteo Vivaldi, my father, says in his business voice. A chill runs down my spine.

He leans forward and braces his elbows on the ends of the armrests.

“We need to make an adjustment to our agreement.”

Nico sips his drink and sets it on the side table before responding.

“What kind of adjustment?”

Dread forms a lead ball in my stomach.

My mother’s eyes bore into me. Giorgio leans back, but the intensity in his eyes matches my father’s.

“Camilla can’t fulfill the terms.”

I blink. My father’s words echo in my ears.

“Serenity can,” he says.

I jerk my attention to the man I equally fear and trust.

He’s joking, right?

“You’ll marry Serenity instead,” my father finishes.

A black hole forms under me. He can’t be serious. This is just a cruel joke. He didn’t suggest Nico Russo, the only man in New York City who could rival his power and ruthlessness, should marry me instead of my sister. He didn’t slot me into her spot as though we’re interchangeable.

I turn to Nico, certain he’ll declare war between the families before he accepts me as his wife.

I’m no replacement for my sister. She’s a model, for fuck’s sake. She’s tall, slim, gorgeous, and outgoing, making her the obvious choice.

Plus, I don’t want to marry him. I want to marry Alfonso.

Nico’s intense stare steals the couch out from under me. The hunger in his gaze threatens to swallow me whole.

I’m hallucinating. This isn’t real.

I remain frozen as he shifts his gaze to my father.

“I accept.”

His deep timbre arrows straight to my core. I stare in disbelief until he lowers his icy grey eyes down to mine.

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