Page 4 of Dark Mafia Vows

Dario is a stunning man. Even as a teenager roaming the halls of our house, he was an angel to my too-young eyes. How wrong I was. From what I’ve heard, beneath that perfectly sculpted face and full, red mouth, Dario is nothing but pure evil.

“You can’t just treat people anyhow you want and think you can get away with it.” I throw my hands into the air, releasing him. “That’s an asshole move.”

“And you assume I have a problem with being the asshole?” His brow arches in a way that’s far too sexy for my liking. Everything about him is sexy, from the way his navy three-piece suit molds to his impressive physique to the way his dark hair falls over his forehead in messy waves.

His face remains impassive, and I wonder for the millionth time what happened to Dario that changed him so much. I don’tremember a lot about him, but what I can remember is the dimple that used to peek out when he occasionally smiled. Now, he looks as if he hasn’t smiled in years.

Suddenly, he reaches inside his suit jacket. I let out a startled sound and jump back, half-expecting him to pull out a gun and shoot me for bothering him. Instead, he withdraws a wad of cash and holds it up.

“You can have all of it if you get out of my way and forget this conversation ever happened.”

I glance down at the money and then force a stiff smile. “You couldn’t buy me if you tried.”

“I’m not trying to buy you,” he replies coolly. “I’m trying to get you out of my face.”

I grit my teeth. “I wouldn’t even be here, if you’d just say you’re sorry, which, by the way, is the right thing to do. No. It’s the least thing you can do, and?—”

“You seem to enjoy the sound of your own voice far too much,” he says, cocking his head. “But I don’t. You’re clearly a child, and I’ve had enough of you wasting my time,” he bites out, tossing the wad of cash at me.

I flinch as it flies toward my face, and by the time I remember to catch it, it’s too late. The money scatters across the floor between us.

I look up from the notes strewn about the floor, a scathing comment on the tip of my tongue, only to see that Dario is already across the garage. I watch helplessly, seething with indignation, as the elevator doors slide closed, sealing him out of view.

I stand there, fists clenched, staring at his car. For a fleeting moment, I consider doing something crazy like denting it, but I decide against it. I’m not that suicidal, and besides, I refuse to prove Dario right by acting immature.

Taking a deep breath, I try to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

“What a jerk,” I mutter, heading back to my car. I feel like such a fool, and I’m grateful no one was around to witness that.

I slip back into my car and find a new parking spot, and as I start maneuvering into my dress, one thought dominates my mind. Is Dario headed to the same event as I am? Will I run into him again?

I shake my head to clear the thought.

I may not know what caused the rift between Dario and my brother, but I do know that the teenage boy who used to lift me up so I could reach the Lucky Charms from the top shelf is long gone. In his place is the most gorgeous but infuriating man I’ve ever met.

Well, as far as I’m concerned, this entire encounter never happened. We don’t run in the same circles. I’m sure I’ll never see him again.

I won’t let him ruin my night; I remind myself. Not at this event. Not ever.

Good riddance.

2

DARIO

Such a brazen little spitfire.

A low, amused chuckle escapes me as the cool metal elevator doors slide shut with a soft thud. As I press the button for the tenth floor, her voice lingers in my head, replaying her sass and biting sarcasm. The memory draws a grin to my lips.

I can still see the way her eyes, an intriguing blend of brown and hazel, sparked with boldness as she stood her ground against me.Who is she?I wonder.

She’s beautiful, no doubt about it—with thick black hair pulled into a ponytail, high cheekbones sculpted to perfection, and porcelain skin that looked almost ethereal under the lights. But it was her audacity that truly caught me off guard.

Most people would know better than to speak to me that way. But it was evident in the way she spoke that she didn’t give a fuck about who I was. It almost seemed as if she knew exactly who I was and hated me for it. That makes my grin widen.

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t let anyone speak to me like that without facing consequences. But today? Let’s just say I’m feeling generous.

The elevator pings softly, breaking me from my thoughts. The doors glide open, revealing an opulent foyer. The lights from the chandeliers above shine warmly, reflecting off the polished marble floor. Faint music drifts from the ballroom ahead.

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