Page 79 of Forbidden Vows

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “We’re family. And our family will be forever.”

The End

Don’t worry,you’ll be attending Blaze and Cleo’s wedding in the next book. Ready for your next taboo read…Vows in Sin

Epilogue

Seraphina

This is so not me. I’ve never been a woman who longs for a man who isn’t into me. I’m perceptive enough to read the writing on the wall. I prefer men begging for my attention.

Not the other way around.

Yet, here we are.

Wearing oversized dark cat-eye sunglasses, a black scarf over my hair tightly knotted beneath my chin, and a teacher dress borrowed from my friend Cleo, a patchwork quilted abomination I’d never usually wear, but again…

Here we are.

My friend Cleo was in trouble, and to keep her safe, I traveled with her on an impromptu trip to a sexy Italian estate. Dame was my bodyguard, assigned to be by my side every moment, with my safety as his primary responsibility.

Dame and I spent every moment together on an overnight shopping trip in Rome. I had no idea I would leave my heart behind when I returned to NYC.

I also didn’t know that half the women in this city are on his roster when he comes to New York for work.

Turns out, he’s in town. He’s a member of the elusive Bachman Brotherhood, which has a compound in Manhattan called the Village. No stranger has ever breached their walls, and I’m not trying to do the impossible.

I seek merely a glimpse, one observation, and an opportunity to see him in person—perhaps a brief conversation.

A single dance, perhaps.

A slight, fortuitous encounter allows me to discern whether this fixation I have permitted to flourish in my mind like mushrooms since my return from Italy is genuine.

Thanks to a slip from my Cleo, I learned my target will be at the family dance club, Gotcha, tonight. Unfortunately, my name won’t appear on the guest list alongside the influential mafiosos, celebrities, and millionaires who can buy their way in.

Consequently, this hardworking city girl has had to employ clever tactics.

Right now, I’m navigating a sidewalk filled with Manhattan’s evening party crowd in this wonderfully terrible outfit. ‘I wear my sunglasses at night,’ echoes in my mind as I review my plan to sneak in somehow, find a discreet spot to remove the scarf, glasses, and shapeless dress, andreveal my curly hair styled in a rhinestone-studded updo. I'll show off my temporarily toned-from-wandering-Rome legs in a dazzling silver micro mini dress.

What’s the worst that could happen? I hang out in the corner, scoping eye-candy Dame while enjoying a few drinks. Perhaps I might dance with a stranger? Maybe Dame will notice me and go wild with jealousy? Realize what he’s missing?

I’d say it’s worth the risk. If they catch me, what’s the most they can do? Kick me out?

Plan A is to keep my disguise on, get in line, chat with some partygoers, and see if I can persuade them to let me join before we reach the front of the line.

I spot a brunette wearing a shimmery gold jumpsuit and clear pumps. Her friendly, open face leads me to slip in behind her. She’s fiddling with a hot pink iridescent band circling her slender wrist. It glitters like a hologram as she twists it between her fingers, saying, “I’m so glad they’ve upped security even tighter since the drama started with the Morettis.”

“Don’t do that,” says the friend who is waiting with her. Her red hair is smoothed into a sleek shoulder-length bob. “What if you mess it up?”

“Please,” Princess Leia jumpsuit laughs. “It’s Bachman Tech. Nothing could hurt it. Either you have a band or you’re a phony”

“And if you’re a fake, you’re gonna get your ass kicked.” The redhead laughs. “If Rockland had his way, every manin here would be expelled, and we would all be dancing in a girl-only club.”

“We can look…” the brunette says.

The redhead finishes her sentence. “But never, ever touch.”

Charlie leans in, whispering behind a manicured hand. “Why would we want to, anyway? We married Bachman men.”

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