Page 33 of The Vipers' Vow

She reaches out and, with perfectly manicured fingers, gently touches my shirt. She licks her lips, gazing up at me. Her fingers slide over the silk, up my arm, across my shoulder, and onto my chest. I slam my hand over hers just as it’s about to slip inside my shirt. I halt her progress, and her eyes flash with anger, so I lean in and brush my lips against her cheek.

I murmur, “Let's have some wine and chat a little first. I want this to be a seduction, not over within thirty minutes.”

She narrows her eyes but surprises me when she says, “I was going to wait until after we fucked to talk, Saint. I've waited a long time for this.”

I make light of it and grin at her. “So, you just want me for my body?”

“Not only your body, but your depravity. I know exactly how you play, Saint, because you did so with one of my friends.”

I almost take a step back at that because it means she knows I normally do this with Lex, but she asked only for me. “You know, then, that most of the time when I play this way, it’s with my brother, right?”

“Yes,” she says and tilts her head to one side as she watches me. “I don't want him here, though. Isn't he the one who offers all the comfort afterward? I don't want that. He’s boring. But you, you deliciously broken boy, are my idea of fun.”

Broken. Boy. With those two words, she makes it quite clear that she’s wanting me at my very worst. I'm so glad I brought the pills with me because I think things are about to take a strange turn.

“If you're going to whisper sweet nothings like that in my ear,” I say, “we really need the wine. Do you have any glasses?”

She opens the cupboard and pulls out two, and I have to tamp down my smirk. Of course they are crystal. Who has the finest crystal glasses in their college dorm? It's such a pretentious thing to do. I might flounce around the college in my designer clothes, but even I don't have crystal glassware in my room. They’d be broken the minute there’s any kind of party.

I pour us both a glass then take a seat on the couch that runs along the back wall of the room. Angelica has one of the larger rooms families can pay for if they wish. It's not quite as grand as some of them, but it's definitely not the plain and simple dorm many of us have. She takes a seat on the opposite side of the couch and tucks her feet under herself. She watches me, sipping her wine. Her eyes continuously assess me over the rim of her glass, and I feel like a specimen in a petri dish.

“You know,” she says conversationally, “we all understand that at some point, for somebody like me, the end game is getting married.”

I nod and take a small sip of my own wine, unsure where this is going. She mentioned marriage in the library, too.

“I don't want to get married,” she says. “Certainly not to a man who thinks he owns me and wants me for nothing more than to bear him children. That's not how I see my future. I want freedom.” She tucks a silky strand of her hair behind her ear and pauses before she blurts, “I like you, a lot.”

Her cheeks flush, and I think there’s some truth in that for sure. How long has she been crushing on me? She’s only ever acted as though she hated me.

She continues, “But I’ve been thinking—and here's the thing, Saint—the games you and your brother play? You can't keep playing them forever. Your family will expect you to get married and produce heirs. You can't both marry the same woman, because you'll be disowned by your family, or worse.”

She doesn't have to say what the worst will mean because it's a well-known fact that very few mafia clans would accept a polyamorous lifestyle amongst their heirs. I think my father would rather Lex and I be dead than have the shame of that stain the family name.

Somehow, the Devils have made it work, but I know it wasn’t easy, and it resulted in Kirill’s father dying. I don’t know the full truth about what went down, but word is it was bloody and violent. Of course, Dean Rossi is aware of their romantic situation, but is Tino’s family? It’s none of my business, but I doubt it. If Tino ever needs to take over from his father one day, I expect there will be some more than difficult conversations. Maybe there will even be more bloodshed.

Angelica hasn’t finished, and I tear my thoughts away from the Devils to focus on what she’s saying.

“I like you, Saint,” she repeats, her lower lip jutting out in a pout which I’m sure she thinks is cute. “I have a proposal. I think you and your brother will always need to play together. It’s a sickness within you that you can't conquer, or you already would have.”

My finger tightens around the glass, and I want to smash it over her head, but instead I give a casual shrug of one shoulder, making sure I look completely bored by what she's saying. I won't let her get under my skin.

“If you and I were to make a pact, and we got married, I wouldn't stop you doing whatever you wanted. All I would ask is that you kept it quiet. And discreet. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to have the kind of life your father would want for you, but in reality, you keep living your own life the way you want.”

“And what do you get out of this?” I ask.

I hate to say it, but on one level, she's correct. Marrying someone like Angelica who is offering me a deal, where I’m able to carry on my depravity on the side, would be a perfect solution. There's only one problem. One petite, curly haired, curvy-as-sin problem.

Vani.

“I'd get freedom,” Angelica says, “and when we’re together, we could enjoy each other’s company. We could be seriously hot together, Saint. You and I could be a power couple. We’d take over the world. Besides, you're the only guy I've come across who I could ever imagine having any kind of deal like this with.” She takes more of her wine and swallows, and then she looks at me, and there's an odd vulnerability in her gaze. “It’s a good offer, Saint.”

Everything that's happened in this room since I arrived has blindsided me. I thought she'd beg me to take her to bed, and that that would be the end of it, but instead she's offering me so much more. Sadly, I don't want anything she could ever offer. Not anymore.

She offers me a small smile. “Think about it. You don’t have to give me an answer now. Excuse me.”

She stands and heads into the bathroom. I hear water running, and it's my chance. I reach into my man bag, open the pill bottle, and empty two of the little white pills into my hand, before dropping them in her wine and swirling the glass around as they dissolve.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I take it out, seeing Vani’s picture light up the screen. It’s a photo I snapped of her fast asleep one of the nights I was in her room, spending quality time with her. I can’t talk to her now, even though I’m dying to ask how her ass is, so I cut the call and turn my phone off. I hear Angelica running the water and shove my phone back in my pocket. I’ll call Vani later, and she can fill me in. Maybe I’ll make her play with herself while we talk. The thought makes me smile, but then I hear Angelica cough in the bathroom, and the sound is cold ice on my libido.

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