Page 54 of Venomous Vows

You just gave her a freebie for saving her sister and demanded nothing in return.

Pivoting, I make my way out the back and into the alley that has my Audi parked out back.

I don’t know why I came here.

I shouldn’t have.

Elena Rossi is no friend of mine, never has been. She’s belonged to my brother.

It’s time to let the past lie, even if it did resurface and come abruptly back into my life.

I need to let her go.

15

ADRIAN

She’s perfect.

Literally everything I could’ve asked for if I had written it on a piece of paper, line by line, and made her into my perfect image.

Kira Hamilton is the epitome of a perfect mob wife.

She understands the life, being the daughter of an Irish mob boss. I’m expecting a bit of a spine, a lot of pride, and a distinct strength for family. Which is exactly what I’m looking for.

The only thing that Kyra is missing when it comes to being part of the Irish mob is the long red hair. Keira has golden blond hair that almost reaches the tips of her elbows. Her pale blue eyes are a bit darker and you really have to look at them to see exactly what color they are, yet she’s beautiful just the same.

Her father tells me that she is definitely something of a spitfire. A woman full of loyalty and patronage to any cause that she feels passionate about.

I’ve combed the streets and ridges of possible lives that would fit my family and my cause while giving me beautiful and healthy children, but as the week has gone by, I was beginning to think that this wasn’t going to be a possibility at all. Whichwould technically only leave me one choice, one that I really didn’t want to make.

Elena.

But, as fate would have it, it saves Elena once again from having to be forever tied to me. Because I know damn well that five years of marriage with that woman would only land into forever.

Tonight, I’ve invited Kira to dinner to see how she meshes with my brother and my squad. I purposely didn’t invite her brother, wanting to see how she fended for herself while in the midst of the rowdy assholes who run around with me. At the dinner table, we set business aside and eat like a family.

And I’m curious to see the kind of spitfire her father mentioned she is when he tried to sell her to me.

“You didn’t tell us that you were going to be invitin’ a lady, Adrian,” my sergeant, Amos, muses as I pull out Kira’s seat for her to sit at my side. “Now, we’re going to have to put on our manners.”

“I grew up in an Irish family,” Kira returns for herself. “If ye think that whatever ye say is gonna make me blush, good luck. I have four brothers who would make a priest blush.”

My lips heave and Zane shoots me a semi-surprised look. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s slightly impressed or that I’m moving forward with the plan to get a wife. I’ve never made it a secret that this is what I was doing. All in all, it needs to be done and what better night to have Kira here than with my brother so that he could help me evaluate if this would be a good fit for our side of things.

“Well, we’re happy to have you,” Amos replies, picking up his silver spoon and dipping it into the baked potato soup that we’re having this evening as an appetizer. “I’m not sure how you got mixed up with this one, though.” He nods toward me. “He’sa stubborn one, so I’m hoping that’s something you’re used to. Being Irish and all.”

“I think I can hold me own.” She looks over at me. Those sky blues glimmer with amusement that I should welcome. This is what a marriage should be.

Happiness.

Peace.

And serenity.

Despite it being an arranged marriage, it doesn’t need to be hell either. Kira seems very open-minded to this exchange. It wasn’t like I forced her into the situation, or vice versa. Her father was never looking for her to be presented in one, especially to a different mafia. But I do believe that this will be beneficial for both sides. I’ve had no issues with the Irish. They’ve always been very peaceful people and have left my side of everything alone. Not once have I ever had any implications that they would be something that I would have to worry about down the line.

“Can I get you some white or red wine?” I ask, taking my own seat at the head of the table.

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