Page 108 of Dangerous Vows

“She’s been a pawn this whole time,” I murmur through a clenched jaw. “We didn’t see the entire chessboard. We’ve been playing catch-up.”

Matteo nods. “If we lose this war, the Borrelli territory gets carved up. Serbs. Russians. Even the fucking Irish will pick apart what’s left. And Miloš? He will enter the void with a power play that secures the entire East Coast.”

“Like fuck that’s happening,” I growl.

“We’ll protect her. And that child. At all costs,” he says.

I met his eyes, my voice low but firm. “At all costs.” Because I know we’re finished if our plan doesn’t work.

I fall asleep with her in my arms, contemplating how we get out of this pickle.

Another day passed,and tonight, she didn’t speak to me at all, even though we ate dinner together.

She avoided my eyes and didn’t ask where I’d been today. But then again, she knows better than to ask questions I can’t answer.

She pushes food around her plate like it offended her.

Afterwards, I bring her an herbal tea and sit beside her on the couch. Her legs are tucked under her, but her arms are wrapped around herself like armor. She’s defensive.

“What’s going on?” I asked, watching her closely.

“Nothing,” she said without looking at me.

“Don’t lie to me, Amara.”

Her eyes didn’t move from the TV. “I’m just tired.”

“No, you’reangry,” I said quietly. “Tell me why.”

She finally turns to face me, and her voice is soft and sharp all at once. “Because I’m just the vessel now, right? The heir-maker. Suddenly, I matter because I’m carrying the one thing that could end a war.”

“Is that what you think this is?” I ask, stunned.

“You’re making peace deals,” she snaps. “Calling in your family. Matteo shows up like the world’s on fire. And then I hear you both talking as if I were some prized offering. A truce in a womb.”

“I’m trying toprotectyou,” I bit out.

“No, Pietro,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re trying to control me. It’s not the same.”

My hand reached for hers instinctively. She flinches—but not enough to stop me.

“You believe I’d only come back to you because of the baby?” I ask, my voice raw and disbelieving. What kind of animal does she think I am?

She doesn’t answer.

“You know better, Amara.”

Her lips part, like she wants to protest, but she doesn’t.

I brush my thumb over the back of her hand, watching how her breath hitches. But even now, with all her doubt and anger, she still responds to my touch.

“I’m not making love to you because of what you’re carrying,” I said. “I’m here because ofyou.”

She turns her face away, but not before I see the tears she didn’t want me to see

And I know, I have to remind her, not with words.

Witheverything else.

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