Page 28 of His Ruthless Vow

Luca nods, but his ice-blue eyes narrow slightly. He glances toward the door, where another burst of laughter—Kendra's—filters through.

"She's interesting," he says casually. Too casually.

"She's useful," I correct, keeping my expression neutral.

A knowing smirk plays at the corner of Luca's mouth. "You can play the long game all you want, Enzo, but she's already yours."

I scoff, the sound sharp in my throat. "I don't keep what I can't control."

"Don't you?" His eyebrow arches. "She took your deal. She's here. She hasn't walked away."

His words sink beneath my skin like barbs, precisely because they echo thoughts I've been fighting. Kendra fights me at every turn, challenges me in ways no one else dares, and yet—she remains. By choice or circumstance hardly matters.

The next morning,I walk into Romano Security Solutions, a steel-and-glass monolith that serves as the perfect cover for Elliott Romano's less legitimate enterprises. The receptionist—a sharp-eyed woman who I'd bet knows exactly what her boss really does—waves me through without question. I've been expected.

Elliott's office occupies the entire top floor, with windows offering a panoramic view of Chicago that probably helps him feel like the god he thinks he is. I find him sitting behind a glass desk, fingers flying across three separate keyboards while multiple screens flicker with code I couldn't begin to understand.

"Enzo." He doesn't look up, but his fingers pause briefly. "Right on time."

Elliott Romano embodies contradictions. His unruly dark curls and thick-framed glasses give him the appearance of a harmless tech genius, but the intricate tattoos peeking from beneath his rolled-up sleeves tell a different story. His movements are precise, deliberate—a man who approaches both coding and combat with methodical efficiency.

"This place is a bit much, isn't it?" I gesture to the sleek office with its minimalist furniture and excessive technology.

Elliott finally looks up, his dark eyes sharp behind his glasses. "Says the man who drives a custom Audi."

I concede the point with a slight tilt of my head and settle into the chair across from him. "I need information on the Cappallettis. The kind that makes them... agreeable."

"Blackmail material." It's not a question. Elliott leans back, studying me with that analytical gaze that seems to dissect everything it touches. "For your proposed truce?"

I raise an eyebrow, not surprised he already knows about my plans. Information is his currency, after all. "Can you do it?"

A slow grin spreads across his face, revealing the edge beneath the tech-genius facade. "So you want me to make it so the Cappallettis have no choice but to agree to this truce?"

I nod once. "That a problem?"

"Not at all." Elliott's fingers resume their dance across the keyboard, pulling up files I can't see from my angle. "The Cappallettis have always been careless with their digital footprint. Giovanni especially—man can't resist his online poker." He glances up again, the screen's blue light reflecting off his glasses. "I can have preliminary findings by tomorrow, complete dossier by the end of the week. Standard rate?"

"Triple it if you can get me something concrete on Alfonso Figarello." I lean forward slightly. "He's the real obstacle."

Elliott's eyes narrow with interest. "The underboss with the squeaky-clean image? That'll cost you."

"I’m sure we can handle it."

We shake on it, his grip firm and uncompromising. As I stand to leave, Elliott's voice stops me.

"So...Kendra Washington." He leans back in his chair, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Mikayla mentioned you've been spending a lot of time with her."

I feel my expression harden. "Problem?"

"Not at all." His smirk widens. "Just interesting. She's not your usual type. Too smart to fall for your bullshit."

I shift tactics, my own smirk forming. "Speaking of women too smart—how is Mikayla? Has she figured out what you want from her yet?"

The satisfaction is immediate as Elliott's charming smile vanishes, replaced by something cold and dangerous. He rises slowly, his movements suddenly less tech genius and more predator.

"Don't push me when it comes to Mikayla." His voice drops to something just above a whisper. "You really don't want to know what it's like to be on my bad side, Enzo."

The tension crackles between us, two men accustomed to control finding their limits tested.

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