Page 90 of Devil's Vows
I break down and sob into my bedding, for I’ve been torn to pieces in my life. I’m still grappling with everything that’s happened to me, confused by religion, not understanding why God can watch from above, unaffected, letting my life’s water flow down this cruel route He mapped out long ago. It nevermade sense, but here I am drinking from His cup as I reach for my Bible, nothing else able to anchor me.
And then the shift comes, even as it chills me to the bone. My quiet rebellion against this arranged marriage to Ivan dies, blown out like a candle in one swift breath.
That Russian isn’t going to find me in another Russian stronghold. I’ll marry Ivan to stay hidden, but as his wife, I’ll have demands. From my brothers, too. Fuck this whole mess with Randazzo, Franco Fiore, and the whole sick business I was processed through like a piece of meat. I no longer care what the Petrov Bratva has onIl Consiglio, but I won’t rest until Randazzo’s human trafficking network in Europe is destroyed. Until I’ve figured out who the fuck the Russian is and come for him, before he can come for me.
WithIl Consiglioand the Petrov Bratva behind me, anything is possible. Running is in my past. I have no clue how to do it, or where to even start, but this cage will work for me.
I slowly stand and straighten my clothes. For now, I need to keep pretending, mask back on, a bride of death.
I have precious minutes of privacy left and I battle my indecision to call Ivan and tell him everything before we exchange vows. He must know that he’s marrying another Russian’s chosen bride—one marked at thirteen with ownership I’ve never been able to remove from my body. A Russian who is hunting me down, killing innocent people in his quest to find me.
When Irisha and Katya’s excited shrieks sound up the stairs, I’m out of time. The enthusiasm in their voices is at bursting point, something aboutprincess dresses.If it’s up to them, nothing is going to stop this wedding. I have about ten seconds to gather myself before they burst into my room.
Little girl chaos ensues, and I’m plunged head-first into preparations for two last-minute weddings with two little girls in tow. The day passes in a blur. Milana shoots me several wary,questioning looks, but I’m on pins and needles, too worried about Chiara to even care about all the little details of thehappiest day of my life.
With Yuri always looking on, I can’t tell her anything. I might have been privy to some of what happened this summer with Franco Fiore andIl Consiglio, but I know that’s just a fraction of what’s been going on here.
When Ivan sends me a message, letting me know he’ll be spending the time before the wedding at the apartment near his offices, I let it go. He’ll have his reasons; maybe he wants to give me space and let me stick to being a good Catholic, saving myself for the wedding night. Maybe he truly has too much work on his plate. Whatever his reasons, it’s somehow irrelevant.
I check my phone a hundred times, raising suspicion with Yuri but not caring anymore. I’m anxious for news from Dominic and Italy, but so far, there has only been one notification from him: no names have been officially released in Italy of the women killed by the ‘serial killer,’ but his underground sources confirmed a Chiara Bellini isn’t one of them. He’ll keep me posted.
It’s hope in a casket. The noose is around her neck, and she doesn’t even know she’s being strung up. It’s just a matter of time.
I can’t be responsible for her death, too, but gale-force winds have swept up in my world, and there are a thousand fires burning around me. I don’t know which one to kill first just to stay ahead of the blaze.
I should have come clean on that first day with Dominic, but I chose to comply with rule number one: never show them who you really are. The only thing I’ve learned since leaving the convent is that secrets are currency. Nobody has been honest from the start, and we’re all going to pay the price for our little secrets and big lies.
46
IVAN
I stare down at Gabriella where she’s asleep in my bed. The sheets are rumpled, and it seems she struggled to fall asleep.
I get it. I’ve been steering down this path so fast, I have doubts myself, but I can’t go back on my word now. I have to lockIl Consiglioin. I have to take care of Milana in a way she’d care to be taken care of, and that’s getting out from under my roof. Milana will have more freedom as a Scalera than she’ll ever have under my watch as long as Luca Scalera honorsIl Consiglio’svow: my sister never sets foot in Russia again.
I drag my hands through my hair, my gaze jumping to Irisha and Katya’s smaller bodies where they’re snuggled next to Gabriella. Tonight, Yuri will look after them as we consummate our marriage. Another reason why I can’t go back on my word now. I’m thirsting for this woman. Maybe once I’ve finally had her, I’ll be able to breathe again.
As I look down at her, taking in every feature in the little light, my fingertips itch with the need to stroke the soft skin along her temple, her cheeks, the plumpness of her lips. My mouth burns with the need to dip down to hers and wake her up with a slow, erotic kiss that I’ll trail down her body as Ispread her legs, to finally taste her as I’ve been dreaming of for days. I can already feel her sweet pussy quivering against my tongue?—
I swallow and curse under my breath. She’s not wearing her usual modest pajamas, and it’s testing me. I need to get out of this room. Out of her space.
Check in with Papa. That will cure me.
It’s past midnight, but the old Pakhan isn’t really on any clock anymore. I haven’t introduced Gabriella to him yet, and now, it almost seems too late, as if it doesn’t matter. I’ll still check in with him before I go to bed.
As I walk toward the bedroom door, there’s a rustle behind me, followed by a gasp.
“Ivan?”
Gabriella’s voice is barely a whisper, but her fear lies shallow in my name.
“It’s me,moya ptichka,” I say softly as I turn toward her. Something’s put her on edge, and I hope it isn’t me. I’d rather hope me standing here, living a full-on sexual fantasy while staring down at her, would wake her up for another reason altogether…wet between her thighs, as needy as I am right now. “I was just checking in on you. Go back to sleep.”
Fuck. I suppress a grunt. She looks so fucking tempting.
This wasn’t the plan.
I was holding myself back these past few days, ignoring her on purpose. Even like this, hair tousled as she sits up, her shoulder bare as her camisole’s strap slips to her arm, she’s too much of a temptation. This might be an arranged marriage, but I need her, and every nerve in my body has been begging me to just take her and make her mine.
