Page 52 of Brutal Vows

“Have fun with your wife,” he calls after me, laughter trailing his words as he turns toward the back exit.

Dario, who has been standing guard outside the office door, falls into step beside me as I stride purposefully through the bustling club. The thrum of music vibrates through the floor, and people part before me like water. My focus is singular as I push through the throng to find my wife. Her laughter reaches me first, a bright peal that cutsthrough the noise, drawing my attention to where she stands on the edge of the dance floor with her new companion.

The man beside her senses my approach, his head turning to meet my gaze with a friendly, broad smile. He leans down to whisper something in her ear, pointing me out with a subtle nod. Relief courses through me as I recognize him—Liam’s son, Seamus. If it were anyone else making her laugh, Gia would be getting a swift lesson in the consequences of allowing another man too close to what belongs to me.

When she sees me, her face pales, but she tips up her chin, eyeing me defiantly.

“What the hell are you doing here, Gia?” I bark, my voice low and edged with frustration. Gia merely shrugs nonchalantly, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she takes a languid sip from the cocktail glass clutched in her hand.

“I figured if it’s good enough for you to be here, then it must be good enough for me,” she replies with a crooked smile, her gaze drifting towards a scantily clad waitress whose deliberate, lingering glance catches both our eyes as she glides past.

I draw a slow, measured breath before replying. “I’ve been working,” I deadpan. Gia gives a dismissive snort that sounds dangerously like amusement.

“And I’ve been robbing banks,” she quips.

Ignoring her childish retort, I fix my eyes on the intricately patterned drink in her hand before turning my attention to Seamus. “How many of those has she had?” I ask him sharply, my tone dark. If this fucker has been feeding my wife alcohol, he can kiss our joint operation goodbye.

Seamus straightens up, rolling his broad shoulders back in an almost theatrical display of composed authority. Hemay be one of the heirs to the Irish Mafia empire, but he is still young, barely past twenty-five.

“Just the one,” he explains, with a slight shrug, “and it doesn’t actually contain any alcohol.”

“Wish it did,” Gia mutters under her breath.

Seamus shakes his head in quiet disapproval. “When she walked in, I texted my father,” he continues, his voice measured and serious. “He told me to keep her occupied while you two wrapped everything up.”

I offer him a curt nod and a gruff, appreciative thanks. Sensing the tension mounting, Seamus offers a quick goodbye to Gia before melting into the throng of people swirling around us.

Pulling Gia closer until she’s pressed against my chest, so I don’t need to yell to be heard.

“How did you get here, Gia?” I ask, my tone grave.

“Walked,” she responds casually as if recounting an everyday errand. Walked? This late at night, in an unfamiliar city throbbing with neon lights and hidden danger? My jaw tightens with worry as I consider the multitude of scenarios that could have trapped her. What if her father’s men had been lurking nearby? Or worse, what if she’d fallen victim to a mugger in one of the darkened alleyways?

Drawing closer, I lean over her, my warm lips brushing against the delicate shell of her ear. “You are in big fucking trouble,piccola cerva,” I growl, my voice husky at the prospect of turning her plump ass red with my belt. “And don’t think I’m not going to correct your behavior.”

Gia jolts back, her eyes widening as her jaw sets in a determined line. “If you think for one second that I’m going to stay at home like some obedient little wife while you fuck your day away, you’ve married the wrong girl, Vitali De Luca.”

“That’s not what I’m doing here, Gia,” I insist, trying to soothe the brewing storm of her indignant defiance.

She rolls her eyes, a gesture heavy with disbelief. It’s understandable that she would have doubts. Gia grew up entrenched in a world where men often abandon their wives, leaving them home to raise the children and keep the home while they lose themselves in booze and lose women.

But I am not one of those men, and she will come to learn that.

“You can’t just leave the security of the hotel without a guard, Gia,” I growl. “It simply isn’t safe out there.”

“Then don’t leave me alone the entire day with nothing to do,” she fires back, the edge in her voice sharpening as she presses her hands against my chest, creating a deliberate barrier between us.

I allow it. Until she turns her back on me.

“Don’t walk away from me, Gia,” I warn her, my eyes narrowing. “If you won’t listen, I won’t wait until we are back at the hotel to belt your ass.”

Gia stops in her tracks, frozen in indecision. I can practically see the gears whirring in her head, wondering if I will really drag her to the back and lay my belt across her ass in a club full of people.

Spoiler alert. I will.

“You can’t threaten to punish me every time I do something you don’t agree with, Vitali,” she hisses, looking back at me, her eyes burning angrily. “I got here on my own, and I can get back on my own. But don’t expect to crawl into my bed after you’ve fucked some crabs-infested whore.”

She turns on her heel, ready to dash toward the door. Gia barely makes it two steps before my arm settles around her middle, lifting her from the floor.

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