Page 6 of Dark Mafia Vows

That’s when it clicks. Shit. How did I not recognize her sooner? Of course, it’s Ginevra Bianchi—Ginny, Lorenzo’s little sister.

I chuckle softly in disbelief.

The last time I saw Ginevra, she was barely five years old with mischievous hazel eyes, trailing after me and her brother with futile pranks, dressed in cute bows and dresses. She’s grown up now, far too grown. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was still that same Ginny from childhood. But now...fuck.

She’s changed from her simple blouse and jeans into a tight-fitting sequined dress that hugs all her curves. Her hair, now black and not the blonde I used to remember, falls down to her ass in soft waves, framing her ethereal face.

A slow, sinister smile spreads across my lips as a wicked plan begins to take shape. I’ve been plotting to humiliate Lorenzo for years, and now, it seems my revenge has presented itself on a silver platter.

I observe Ginny politely laughing at something the man beside her says. They form a small group with Lorenzo, Ginny, and another man I recognize as Rinaldo Sanchez, a business associate of Lorenzo. But as I watch, I see Rinaldo’s hand resting on her waist, revealing he’s more than just a business partner.

A mix of annoyance and amusement churns within me. Lorenzo has certainly found an intriguing match for his sister, even though they look like a pair of mismatched socks together. His hand around her is not possessive or protective in the slightest. Rather, it hangs there awkwardly, and her smile looks forced as he drones on. Observing them is as thrilling as watching paint dry.

If I had a woman like Ginny in my arms...

I let that thought trail off because I know it leads nowhere good.

Instead, I slip my hands into my pockets and look at her for one more moment, etching her features in my brain. Then our eyes meet.

Even with the distance between us, the air between us feels charged. Her eyes widen slightly as she takes me in. And then, when I think she’ll look away, she holds my gaze. Something flares in her eyes—something sensual. Curious. Fierce. Primal.

Heat coils up my spine as we continue our silent, intense little staring game. It feels as if we share a hidden secret to which no one else in the room is privy, and my hands clench into fists, the thought of exploring the more forbidden territories between us becoming disturbingly appealing.

For reasons I can’t fully understand, the idea of corrupting her in the most twisted ways I can imagine is starting to sound tantalizingly irresistible.

In that moment, I realize I’ve found the perfect opportunity to set my plan in motion and bring the Bianchi empire to its knees. And Ginny may be the key to making it happen.

3

GINEVRA

The morning sun spills into my penthouse, warming the hardwood floors as I glide through my yoga routine. I let out a contented breath as the cool morning air hits my sweat-soaked skin. It’s been a hectic few days, and I couldn’t be happier to finally have some peace. What better way to spend a lovely morning than with some yoga?

Soft music plays from the TV, a morning talk show featuring cheerful hosts discussing the latest beauty trends among women. One of the male guests on the show says something about how he didn’t know women had body hair because he’d never seen a woman with any before.

I roll my eyes, stretching my body into another pose as the show host laughs heartily. The annoying show continues, their conversation becoming louder and more obnoxious. They are now arguing about whether or not makeup is just a mask for ugly women and that women who know their true beauty don’t need it.

I try to tune them out by breathing deeply and slowly. But when the loud conversation continues, I sigh in irritation beforebreaking my pose and grabbing the TV remote off the coffee table before switching to the news.

As I prepare to return to my stretching, the headline on the screen grabs my attention:

“Shocking Murder: Mutilated Body Discovered in Abandoned Warehouse Linked to Organized Crime.”

My hands freeze over the remote, my entire body stiffening at the sight of the crime scene photos being shown on the screen. As I watch the news unfold, the anchor’s voice steadies, but the words send a chill down my spine.

“Authorities have identified the victim as Vincento Torres, a cousin of prominent businessman and millionaire Esteban Torres, known for his lucrative real estate investments in. The body was found in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city at early hours of the morning, prompting an investigation into possible organized crime involvement...”

I feel a pang in my chest as a clip of Esteban addressing the press appears on the screen. Esteban and my brother were business partners at some point, though they hardly talked much anymore.

“I will get to the bottom of this!” he exclaims in anger and pain. “I will get justice for my family!”

I turn the TV off, my morning already ruined. I can’t shake the feeling of dread that rolls through me knowing that Lorenzo is tangled in business dealings with the cartel. Everyone knows that the cartel runs this city like a well-oiled machine, their influence seeping into every corner of life. They control everything—from high-profile businesses to the underbelly of illegal activities that thrive out of plain sight.

I’ve heard stories of their hierarchies, with powerful figures pulling the strings in politics, business, import and export, illegal trading of drugs, and even the police force.

Everyone dances to their tune, and it’s terrifying how many wealthy men are likely part of this shadowy world. They wear their suits like armor, blending seamlessly into the upper echelons of society while participating in the darkest of operations. Investigations come and go, but nothing ever sticks. Their power is formidable.

And then there’s Dario.

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