Page 24 of His Ruthless Vow

It's been two days since I've heard from him. Two days of waiting for my phone to light up with demands or instructions or whatever the hell this arrangement entails.

I want him to call, I realize with sudden clarity.

The realization makes me drain my glass.

Night falls completely, wrapping the city in velvet darkness. I stand at the window, my reflection ghostly against the glass. The woman staring back at me looks unnerved, uncertain—a stranger wearing my face.

This isn't just about a deal anymore. Somehow, without permission, Enzo has carved out space in my life. He's in my thoughts in the morning, in the quiet moments between meetings, in the shadows of my apartment at night. He's become a presence even in his absence—a dark expectation lurking at the edges of my day.

I set my empty glass down with too much force, the crystal base hitting the marble countertop with a sharp crack. The sound cuts through my thoughts, bringing me back to myself.

"Get it together, Kendra," I whisper, rubbing my temples.

But the uneasiness persists, wrapping around me like a second skin as the night stretches on in unsettling silence.

14

ENZO

The warehouse smells like desperation and disinfectant. Blood has a way of seeping into concrete if you don't clean it up fast enough, and Rome's crew is nothing if not efficient. I watch as they finish loading the last of the shipment, my arms crossed over my chest, eyes tracking every movement.

"Enzo?" Rome approaches, wiping his hands on a rag that was probably white once. He's one of my guys that used to work for me under the Cappallettis and he's been by my side since we switched. "Everything's set."

I nod, scanning the space one more time. "Any problems?"

"Nah." He shrugs, but there's something in his posture—a slight tension in his shoulders—that makes me pause.

"Spit it out, Rome." My voice drops, the command unmistakable.

He shifts his weight. "It's probably nothing, but there were some guys asking questions at Miko's bar last night. Not our people, not Luca's either."

I keep my face neutral, but internally, I'm mapping out possibilities. Zenon moves fast—faster than I expected. I make a mental note to increase security around my territory.

"Keep an eye out," I tell him, reaching for my phone. "Let me know if they come back."

Rome nods and retreats, giving me space as I check my messages. Nothing from Kendra. Again. I haven’t seen her in two days and it’s eating me alive.

I dial her number, unable to resist, listening to it ring until voicemail picks up. I hang up without leaving a message. The first time I called, I figured she was busy even though I waited until the end of her work day. The second time, I thought she might be in a late meeting. Now? Now it's clear she's ignoring me.

Something about that knowledge crawls under my skin—not worry, but irritation. She made a deal. My time, my terms. That's how this works.

I slide my phone back into my pocket, check my watch. Almost seven. The last rays of sunlight filter through the high windows, casting long shadows across the warehouse floor. I could head home, work through the reports Luca sent over this morning. But instead, I find myself heading toward my car, keys in hand.

Twenty minutes later, I'm pushing open the door to Skye's boutique, the bell chiming softly overhead even though she’s about to close. The space is elegant—all clean lines and strategic lighting—with clothing displayed like art rather than merchandise. It's exactly what I'd expect from a woman who married into the family and still managed to build something entirely her own.

Maria spots me first, her face lighting up with genuine warmth. That's her problem—she's too soft for this world, too quick to welcome people in. If she weren't Luca's cousin, someone would have used that against her by now.

"Enzo!" She waves me over to the counter where she's arranging a display of silk scarves. "I was just telling Skye about the restaurant I went to last weekend. You should try it—they have this wine list that would make you cry."

"I don't cry over wine lists," I say dryly, scanning the store out of habit. No other customers. Security cameras positioned at the entrance and over the register. One rear exit. Old habits.

"Where's Kendra?" Maria asks, her tone innocent even as her eyes spark with something knowing.

I keep my face carefully blank. "How would I know?"

Skye emerges from the back room, arms crossed over her chest, lips curving into a smirk that immediately sets my teeth on edge. She's too observant by half—always has been.

"Maybe she finally got tired of your whole 'dark and dangerous' act," she suggests, leaning against the counter with calculated casualness.

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