Page 24 of Dangerous Vows

The kind that wears thousand-dollar suits but gives off serial killer vibes.

That’s half our clientele.

Exactly my point.

Relax. They’re just businessmen.

You’re a businessman. They’re criminals.

I chuckle. If only she knew.

Same thing.

Three dots appear, then disappear. I can practically hear her frustrated sigh.

Just… can we not let the place turn this into a full-blown crime den?

I’ll consider it.

That means no, doesn’t it?

You’re catching on fast.

She doesn’t reply immediately, and for a second, I wonder if I’ve pushed too far. But then?—

I hate you.

I grin.

You sure about that?

Professionally, I hate you.

Professionally, I think you like me.

No response.

I set my phone on the desk, smirking to myself.

This is going to be very,very interesting.

AMARA

NO SUCH THING AS SAFE

The bass from the club stopped an hour ago, but the music still vibrates in my bones even as my shift ends. I step into the humid night, buzzing with city life, and I can’t get over the fact that Pietro fucking owns a club in New York City.

That means he has money and connections, which are probably far deeper than I want to know. And the rough-looking men in the club didn’t alarm him. There’s more to him than he’s letting on. But then again, mafia men don’t announce it to strangers.

No, they worm into your life, then spring it on you, like my father.

I should have known Uncle Vincenzu would fuck up the family. My creepy grandfather was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to human torture. He was a sadist, and my father followed in his footsteps like all the Moretti men before him.

Let’s just say my father believes in corporal punishment. After all, I had a cast on my arm when I was seven. I learned quickly I couldn’t talk back to him. But that didn’t always stop me.

I also learned that my mother was powerless to protect me or any of us. My brothers fell into line to do our father’s bidding. Perhaps they were smarter to give in and not resist.

My beloved grandmother is my mother’s mother, who understands the monster her daughter married. She refuses to live with my parentseven though she’s been getting up there for years. She has a tiny condo and lives off a modest pension from her husband. She has a social life through her volunteer work at the church. She also has friends in her condo and hosts a potluck dinner every Sunday in the community room. I love her and can’t wait to see her again.

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