Page 89 of Dangerous Vows

I pull the blanket tighter around me as I sit up, and the dull ache in my chest isn’t from my ribs; it’s the dull ache of emptiness.

Tonight, I slide out of bed carefully, my bare feet are cold against the tile as I tiptoe toward the door so I can hear them.

I place my ear against the door and hesitate, listening.

“She’s stable now,” Matteo says, the sound of a beer bottle clunking down on the table follows. “We can move forward.”

Pietro exhales heavily. “We have to be careful with the next shipment. The Feds are on us, and I don’t like how many eyes are watching the ports.”

“You think the Serbs are behind it?”

“I know they are,” Pietro mutters. “Miloš has too many connections. We’re watching Elio, but he hasn’t slipped up yet. He will, though. Every traitor eventually does.”

Matteo hums in agreement. “We need to adjust the routes. Keep theguns moving inland and off the usual channels. The drugs are the priority—higher risk, higher reward for us and our enemy.”

I swallow, and the sound rings in my ears. I want to join them, and my fingers itch to push the door open. But it’s an itch I can’t scratch. They speak about the events that are unfolding so casually—the logistics of crime, power, and the world they control.

And just like that, I’m pulled into the heart of the chaos.

I thought Pietro would keep me safe, but I brought this war to their doorstep. Their lives, their families… all at risk because of me.

I was selfish. I wanted a life I was never meant to have.

If that’s the case, I deserve his wrath. I did use him for protection, never thinking about the consequences.

I was born into this mess, and there’s no way for me to escape it, especially now. My father said Pietro would discard me. It’s the baby that he wants. His heir is the only reason he is protecting me. The baby is his sole focus for the future, not me.

And my heart breaks a little more.

The men are quiet for a moment, and I gingerly push the door open and step into the dimly lit living room. Pietro is sitting on the couch with his legs stretched out and an Italian beer in his hand. Even though he treats me like a stranger, I still want him.

Matteo is beside him, looking far too relaxed for a man who runs an empire. Both turn when they see me.

Pietro’s eyes darken slightly before they flick over me like he’s checking for what? An apology? I’m not sure. I don’t know where we stand, so I assume we’re still at a standoff.

Matteo shifts uncomfortably before setting his drink down.

I wrap my arms around myself, the loose fabric of my sweater barely enough to fight off the chill in the air.

Matteo is the first to speak. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” I say, my voice softer than I intended. “Thank you… for taking me in.”

He smirks, but there’s warmth in it. “It’s all Pietro.”

I glance at Pietro, who says nothing, but his jaw tightens slightly.

Is it my imagination, or is he softening?

Matteo pushes to his feet and then stretches. “I should go.” He looks between us with something unreadable in his expression. “Take care, Amara.” He pats my arm as he passes by.

Pietro stands but doesn’t answer. He gives his brother a slight nod. Matteo sighs before he punches his brother’s arm, walks to the door, and lets himself out.

I hesitate, standing there, unsure of where I belong in this moment.

The pregnancy hormones are making me horny. Too horny to not want more from him.

Then Pietro stands, and he moves toward me as his eyes meet mine.

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