Page 123 of Vicious Vows

My enemies could come for me, but Lissia was off-limits. I would burn down this city before I ever let Collins near her again.

I picked up the shot glass meant for my father and swallowed the vodka in one gulp.

“I’ll have to make her untouchable.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

Lissia

As I staredat my phone on the nightstand, I fought the urge to pick it up and call my father. I wasn’t sure what I would say, but I didn’t like these unresolved emotions.

I hadn’t spoken to him since Marchello and I left him the other day. There was no expectation on my end that he would reach out to me. Why would he? He drew a line in the sand. I could cross it, but I would have to forget what he had done to me—how he had treated me. I would be forced to abandon Marchello.

That was something I would never do. I had chosen which side of this war I wanted to be on. And if I had any doubts who I should stand with, they were removed when my dad ordered a hit on Marchello.

I wanted to make peace, but that option didn’t appear to be in our immediate future. There were too many factors at play and too much at stake. Neither family was going to back down. No one would give in.

How could we all come back from both men trying to eliminate the other? We couldn’t. Our only choice was to move forward and see how this all played out, no matter how dangerous that seemed.

My heart thumped when Marchello stormed into the room and slammed the door. My tall, dark, and brooding gangster looked fit to be tied.

Am I the target?

Was I terrified or aroused?

He kicked off his shoes and tugged at his socks before tossing them in the corner of the room. I stood by the window in my sheer black nightie, gawking at him as he pulled his shirt over his head. The tense muscles popped from his back, matching his demeanor.

His relentless gaze devoured my body as he stalked toward me, his eyes narrowing to accentuate the harsh lines under them.

I could only imagine the horror and despair he had witnessed through the years. The murder of his mother right before him. The absence of his father when he needed him most. The death and destruction he had bestowed on others in the name of his family business.

How did a person come back from that?

Those were demons that could only harden a man. No matter how much love I gave him, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to make him whole.

Most sane women would have run from him the first chance they got. But not me. No, I wanted to be shackled to him. Not because I was submissive or a dutiful girlfriend; I was a willing captive because together we were stronger.

I am his.

There was no disillusion here. I couldn’t change him, and I didn’t want to. I loved all of him—his flaws, his demons, and the fierceness in his soul, especially when he protected me.

He wrapped his arm around my waist and yanked me to his tense body. His mood had changed since dinner. During our meal, he had been lighter and carefree. He and Milo even shared stories of past holidays from when they were children.

I enjoyed hearing about their memories, and I was honored they shared them with me. There had been a hint of sadness in both of their voices, but I also saw the fond memories in their expressions as they gave me a glimpse into who they once were. It didn’t matter the men they grew up to be; they were still kids at one point.

Their family had been blown apart. They lost a mother and a sibling, but despite all of that, they were able to give me a glimpse into who they once were. How the past had shaped them into the men they were today.

Marchello had only been in the room for a few minutes, but his silence made me uneasy. I didn’t want to fight or provoke him, but the longer he stayed quiet, the more chance there was of me creating a problem.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out.

“For what?” His low, irritated voice worried me. “Why are you apologizing?”

“For whatever I did to make you mad.” I stroked his cheek. “I didn’t mean it. Whatever it was, it wasn’t on purpose, but I’m still sorry.”

I wanted our first holiday together to be special, despite what had happened between our families. I didn’t throw any tantrums or demand anything. I appreciated the effort he had put into ordering dinner and carefully choosing an appropriate wine.

I replayed the day in my head, but I couldn’t come up with a single mishap on my part. If I had done something to put him in a vile mood, it wasn’t intentional.

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