Page 3 of Twisted Vows

Wealth. Power. It’s everywhere, but tonight, it feels particularly cloying.

A loyal Cosa Nostra soldier opens my door, and I notice the air is thick with cigar smoke and false promises, just like allFamigliaparties.

Straightening my shoulders, I slip on the mask that’s second nature and hear my heels click against the cobblestones as I walk into the foyer.

The party is a maze of glittering lights and perfectly orchestrated chaos. The grand ballroom is filled with the usual suspects. Men in suits cluster in tight groups, and I mentally try to pick which capo will be sentenced to spend eternity with me.

They’re all here. Anyone who is anyone in the Five Families is suited and booted, ready to pay respects to the king. My cousin, André, is celebrating two years as theDonof theFamiglia,andthose who want to hold on to their power are ready to kiss the king’s ring.

“Ah, there she is! OurbellaAri!” My brother’scaporegimeapproaches. “Right on time.”

I accept his kiss on both cheeks. Vincenzo Russo is like a brother to me. Protective, irritating, and constantly willing to tell me what to do. “You’re looking particularly authoritative this evening.” I let a smile play upon my lips. “Who is in your sights?”

“You,” he says flatly. “Emilio will act as your bodyguard until the marriage thing is signed and sealed.”

“Ugh. He’s such a smarmy bastard.” I picture the kid I grew up with and know that he’s grown into a manipulative asshole that’s always looking for a way to cheat the system. “I would be better off with a Bratvabratok.”

“Hush.” He looks around. “Why you gotta always poke the fucking bear, Ari?”

“Because it would be weird if I didn’t.”

“Just make it work.” His gaze briefly hardens, a subtle reminder of the lines I shouldn’t cross.

“Of course,” I say with a fake smile before moving away. I glide through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with practiced ease. A nod here, a smile there.

It’s a game we all play—pretend to be interested, pretend to care. I pause near the edge of the room, letting my eyes scan the crowd. Familiar faces are everywhere.

I know how to navigate this world blindfolded, but tonight, it feels exhausting. Catching snippets of conversations around me—I hear my name whispered like a secret. Some voices drip with envy, others barely conceal their disdain. All of them though, carry the same thread of judgment.

I spot my brother Enzo and his wife Abby near the edge of the room, deep in conversation. My brother looks sharp, as always—tailored suit, the kind of commanding presence that draws people to him whether he wants it or not. Abby’s theopposite. Quiet strength, the type that doesn’t need to be flashy to be noticed.

I move toward them, slipping into their orbit. Enzo gives me a side hug before Abby takes my hand. “Tired of the charade already?” he asks, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

I let out a short laugh. “Is it that obvious?” I glance across the room, catching sight of our mother. She’s watching me like a hawk with the same stern, unyielding expression she always wears. “Ma looks like she’s waiting for me to do something outrageous.”

Enzo follows my gaze, his expression softening slightly. “She’s tough because she must be. You know how Papa was with Franco and me—ruthless, making sure we were ready for life in theFamiglia. Ma’s just doing the same with you.”

His words hit me harder than I want to admit so I force a smile. “Perhaps,” I mumble, wondering if physical blows would have been easier to accept than the knife she’s constantly plunging into my heart.

Abby squeezes my hand in silent support, and I turn to her. “How are you doing, Sharky? Any interesting high-stakes games lately?”

“I’m an employee of the firm now.” She wrinkles her small nose. “André put his foot down and said a Bianchi can’t keep winning all the big pots at Encore.”

Enzo kisses his wife’s head. “From legendary card shark to hired gun. It ain’t easy.”

“Lucky for me, I get you as a consolation prize,” she replies with a smile.

I watch them exchange looks that would send a diabetic into shock and step away. “See you two later, I’m going to make the rounds.”

They barely notice me leave, and I sigh, knowing I’ll never have anything close.

Moving past a large mirror hanging on the wall, I catch my reflection and stop. The woman looking back is exactly who she’s supposed to be. The perfect Mafia princess. Poised, composed, untouchable.

Who would I be if I weren’t trapped in this role? If I could escape from my mother’s watchful eye, the family’s expectations and the rules that bind us all?

For a moment, I imagine it. A life without strings, where I could be reckless without consequence, passionate without betrayal.

A life that would not include a marriage to a stranger.

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