Page 34 of Vow to Corrupt You
I scoff, wiping the sweat from my brow with a towel I just reached for. “Of course, Daddy would swoop in to clean up his son’s mess.” Rodrigo only took charge because Esteban, his father, fell ill—advanced cancer of the gastrointestinal tract. The old man is hanging on by a thread, hooked up to an IV for all of his nutritional needs, but his time is drawing near.
“That’s not the point, Nikos. You’re breaking the alliance that’s lasted decades now, starting a war with one of the most potent mafia cartels.”
I throw the towel around my neck. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” Dimitris’s voice rises. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve lost your goddamn mind because of a—”
“Careful how you want to finish that sentence, Dimitris.” I step closer to him, my expression hardening. “You’re talking about my wife, and the reason we are having this conversation in the first place is because some spoiled brat insulted her.”
Dimitris’s eyes are filled with doubt and dart between mine. “Your obsession with her is dangerous, Nikos.”
“Aren’t all obsessions dangerous?”
He sighs, a muscle twitching in his tightening jaw. “But you’ve been obsessed with her from the moment you saw her, and we both know why. She—”
I grab Dimitris by his collar. “Shall I remind you it was you who begged me to spare Salvatore? Do you think I didn’t know you were aware Lucio would offer me his daughter—or at least one of his daughters—in marriage? You wanted me to marry into that family.”
“Not her,” his tone wobbles, “her sister.” I see fear in his eyes and release my grip, slightly backing away. “Yes, Lucio begged me for help, and I couldn’t refuse my dearest friend. But don’t forget what he’s done for your mother.”
“He’s not done shit!” I snap. “She’s dead anyway.”
“But he tried.”
“Fuck it.” I run my hand through my hair, trying to contain my wrath fueled by the wounds of my past.
“Either way…” Dimitris clears his throat. “I thought someone like Valeria could handle you while not triggering your edges. You needed a wife, an heir.”
My uncle has been insisting I should have an heir ever since I took over the Mafia after my father—to solidify my position, or so he claims. What he doesn’t know, though, is that I have no intention of bringing a child into this fucked-up world. I refuse to mess him or her up the way my father did to me. But I keep it all to myself. I hadn’t told him about any of this, or about my vasectomy. He wouldn’t understand, and I have no obligation to explain my choices to anyone.
“You got what you wanted. Your friend’s son is alive and well, and I have a wife.”
I walk past my uncle, heading toward the door.
“You’re playing with fire, Nikos,” he shouts, and I halt, the muscles in my neck tensing. “Your actions will have consequences. Thanks to the Castros, we had access to drug trafficking through South America. Ending our alliance will significantly impact both parties, Nikos. If left alone, they might align with rival factions or retaliate. Or both, for that matter.”
I turn to face Dimitris. “I’ve faced worse. The Castros aren’t the first and won’t be the last. I can handle whatever they throw at me.”
“Handling it is one thing, but dragging everyone else into your personal vendetta is another. This isn’t just about you, ανιψι?.” His nephew. Always reminding me of my obligations. Dimitris sighs heavily, the lines of concern deepening on his face. “You need to think about the bigger picture.”
“The bigger picture is exactly what I’m thinking about. Every move I make is calculated. The insult directed at my wife was a threat directed at me, and that asshole was testing my boundaries,” I snap. “I will not let someone like Rodrigo Castro put my position in jeopardy, and I won’t let anyone dictate how I run things, not even you, Dimitris.”
“Niko—”
“I’m done here.” I meet his eyes with a warning gaze, and he nods, keeping anything else he might have had to say to himself.
CHAPTER 17
Serena
So do you want me to fuck you, wicked one?
His husky voice echoes in my mind, each word in sync with my accelerated heartbeat. The way his touch lingers on my skin, or the way his scent embeds itself in my lungs, is infuriating because it is… inebriating. I hate how his proximity renders me powerless. I hate that I love the things he does for me when I’m supposed to despise everything about him. I thought he would be so callous, a deranged beast who’d ravage me the moment I stepped into his house. Who would make me his prisoner, a slave to use and humiliate as he wanted. But he isn’t, and he doesn’t. Instead, he declares war on a Colombian drug lord because he insulted me. That doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense at all. He was supposed to be evil and make my life miserable, remind me that I was only a debt that had to be paid… a life for a life.
The click of the door closing to his room sends my pulse racing. He’s back from wherever he was. I need to go to him and tell him he should stop the war with the Castros before it even begins. It was reckless to even consider starting a war over an insult. Besides, I don’t want to be the reason that people die, I mean, that’s the sole reason I’m in this position, right? Not even taking into account the amount of destruction that this war would bring. Or is all of this just an excuse to see him?
Before I realize it, I push open the door to his bedroom and step inside, only to be stopped in my tracks.
He turns to me. His hair is tousled, his sharply defined body exposed, and he’s wearing black boxing shorts that are hanging precariously low on his hips. His sweat-slicked skin, glistening under the dim lights of the lamps on both sides of his king-size bed, ignites a flutter behind my rib cage.
