Page 13 of Forbidden Vows

For a moment, I can almost feel the air in the room shifting. The darkness that settles over Sergei’s face is brief but telling. Whoever this Karpov dude is, Sergei clearly hates his guts. It’s the first time I see a crack in his mask, and it’s unsettling.

“Congratulations are in order then,” he says, his tone flat.

Perhaps these wedding deals that Daddy made might not turn out the way he hoped.

Chapter 3

Anton

Eileen has left a lasting impression on me.

I don’t think she’s aware of her power, of her sizzling magnetism. Then again, I didn’t tell her, just as I didn’t admit that I knew who she was. We agreed to anonymity, though I had her at a disadvantage the whole time.

“Where’s Room 106?” I ask the receptionist as I walk in, leaving the cold morning behind in the half-empty parking lot of the shoddiest motel that my brother could find.

The guy looks at me with a dazed mist covering his bloodshot eyes. The whiff of weed is quick to follow. My boy here is as high as a kite. “Room 106?”

“Yeah, 106. I’m meeting someone there,” I say.

“Uh, okay… Room 106…” He pauses, the brain process working extra slow and probably frying a couple of synapses in the process. “Right. Take the stairs over there, first floor, take a right, and it’s all the way at the end of the hallway.”

“Thanks.”

He slouches back in his seat, hidden behind the desk and his computer monitor, while I make my way up the stairs, ignoring the musty smell that permeates every inch of this place.

My mind wanders back to Eileen.

We shouldn’t have done what we did.

Ishouldn’t have, anyway. She doesn’t know who I am, but I do know whosheis, and, given what this year is shaping up to look like for me, it was a dangerous move. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to stop. She’s so fucking delicious. But that smart mouth of hers is going to get her in some serious trouble someday. She’s sharp and soft at the same time.

Fucking hell, I can still taste her on my lips.

Once I reach Room 106, I look both ways to make sure I wasn’t followed before knocking on the door. I can hear a man’s pained grunts echoing from inside, followed by rushed footsteps. A split second later, my brother opens the door. He looks tired and disheveled, his shirt crumpled and stained with blood, sweat, and booze, judging by the smell.

“What the hell, Andrei?” I snap and go right in, my shoulder brushing his.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbles.

Thankfully, Tommy Benedetto is still alive. Beaten bloody and passed out, tied to a chair, and gagged with a hand towel, but alive. I turn around to look at my brother.

“Thank you for listening to me for once in your life,” I say.

“I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with him yet,” Andrei replies. “Everything is very much still on the table. I just wantedto hear what you had to say about this. You insisted.”

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my wits about me. More often than not, my brother has let his emotions decide his course of action. More often than not, I’ve had to clean up his messes to avoid an all-out war with one or another family from Chicago’s underbelly, where we, too, belong. What happened last night was not one of his smarter moves, and now I must steer him back in the right direction before he gets us both killed.

“Sit down,” I tell Andrei, pouring him a drink from the minibar and helping myself to a single shot of whiskey.

Andrei takes a seat in the chair by the window, his eyes never leaving me. I give him his drink and sit next to him at the small table. “Go on, tear me a new one,” he says.

“I get it; I do,” I begin with a casual shrug. “Tommy did a stupid thing, and I agree—offing him would be the easiest and the simplest solution.” As if summoned, Tommy opens his eyes and damn near jumps out of his chair upon seeing me. “Isn’t that right, Tommy?”

“Mhm-mmph!” He can’t talk with the towel crammed in his bloodied mouth.

“I’m sure we’re in agreement here,” I say, giving him a slight nod. “Sit tight there, buddy. With a little bit of luck, you’re going home today.”

Andrei shakes his head. “Not until you tell me why.”

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