Page 1 of Savage Vow (Mafia Marriages 3)

1

Karina

“Should we really be breaking and entering?” I ask.

My sister, Ivy, is a professional when it comes to party crashing.

I prefer a low-key and simple life. I’ve never been much of a party girl, but somehow tonight she’s convinced me to join her for a little fun.

“It’s not breaking and entering when they leave the door wide open,” she touts.

Ivy isn’t wrong.

The door is wide open. So is the gate to the prestigious mansion.

But my stomach is tangled in knots.

This is a bad idea.

The worst imaginable, but I follow her.

The girl is trouble, and if she weren’t my identical twin and my best friend, I’d have probably ditched her ass years ago.

Funny, being a twin doesn’t mean we are anything alike. Sure, we have the same face, great body, and smile, but Ivy is the wild child—I’m the reserved one.

We saunter in through the open door.

The guard standing at the main entrance clears his throat, and with a thick Italian accent asks, “Name?”

The gentleman is wearing a fancy suit and has thick, dark hair atop his head. He’s big, like football player size, and could easily toss us out or have us arrested if we aren’t careful in what we say.

I open my mouth, but Ivy steps in first.

“You don’t know who we are?” She steps closer to the guard, her hand falls to his chest, her finger gliding down his blazer toward his belt. “Zola and Etta Bianchi,” Ivy says. She rattles the names off with a confidence that I could never muster.

Ivy must have seen the guest list when flirting with the guard.

I’m trying not to vomit.

There’s something about these men that sends a shudder down my spine. We should leave before we end up dead.

His eyes tighten, and he gestures for us to step inside.

She waves to the guard and grabs my arm, tugging me inside to follow.

The house is extravagant. No wonder it’s gated with guards. Because of the party, they must have left the gate wide open. The guest list looked extensive.

The music is pounding, and it makes my heart race as Ivy drags me farther into the house. “Are you sure about this?” I ask.

Most of the men are in business suits and aren’t speaking English. It’s like we stepped into another world, a foreign country, through the front door.

There are women in fancy sparkling gowns with their hair done up for the occasion. There’s no sign of what the party is for. I see no indication of a bride and groom. There are no birthday balloons or banners, although that would seem rather tactless for a function of this magnitude.

It’s like a prestigious ball and we’re halfway across the ocean. What is the occasion?

The chandelier glistens in the ballroom, and a live band is performing for the guests.

Several women in emerald gowns are walking around with trays of champagne. I grab a flute and down it rather quickly.

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