Convenient Mafia Vows (Ruthless Billionaire Mafia Kings)

19. Victoria

19

VICTORIA

Warehouses filled with drugs and weapons. It’s like something out of a movie, but Caleb and his family don’t even flinch when they speak these words out loud. My heart aches to think that Sienna and Mason are mixed up in this because of me.

I was angry with my brother when he didn’t come home after the fight with Killian. I blamed myself for always being around to pick up the pieces so that he never bothered to learn from his mistakes. But now, I realize that he is missing because of my involvement with Caleb. Because of me, Abigail doesn’t have her father around.

What if… I can hardly bear to think about the worst-case scenario, but what if he never comes back? How will I live with myself?

“Why are you sad?” Abigail’s voice penetrates my morbid thoughts.

We’re on the rooftop decking of Caleb’s penthouse apartment. After the meeting, Caleb stayed with Kyle in his office, and I didn’t question it. Instead, I spent the rest of the day with Abigail, playing video games on the tablet Caleb gave her, and getting beaten by a five-year-old every time.

We ordered pizza for dinner from the restaurant downstairs which was delivered to the penthouse and received by Martin at the elevator—seems I’m not allowed to speak to the servers either now— in case Olivia has somehow gotten to them first. For dessert, I requested ice cream to be brought up along with a couple of sodas, and Abigail and I made our favorite: ice cream sodas. We mixed the bubbly liquid and a couple of scoops of ice cream in tall sundae dishes and scooped it out with long-handled spoons on the decking with the stars twinkling overhead.

It's magical up here. The entire rooftop is strung with fairy lights, the pool alive and shimmering with golden ripples. Caleb must’ve designed the space with relaxation in mind, but I wonder how often he uses it. I get the feeling he has gotten himself into a rut of working all day, and staying in the casino all night, and has forgotten how to switch off.

Now, I peer down at Abigail, the glow of the fairy lights casting a gentle sheen across her cheeks. If this feels magical to me, I can’t even begin to imagine how special it must feel to her. She will never ever forget this period in her life when she was thrown into a world that exists only in movies and fairy tales, and I wish that I could tell her that this is real.

“I’m sad because Daddy and Sienna are not here.” There’s no point lying to her, she can see right through me. “When will they be back?”

“Soon.” I hope. “Caleb is trying his best to find them.”

Abigail nods and rests her head on my shoulder. I stroke her hair. The weight of her small body against me is the most special feeling in the world. A reminder of how precious life is.

“Will I have to go home with Daddy when he comes back?”

It’s like a stab straight through my heart. Our future isn’t here. Our future isn’t with Caleb Murray, living in the penthouse apartment of the Wraith and spending cool spring evenings on the rooftop under fluffy blankets with the lights sparkling all around us.

“We both will, sweetie.”

“Why can’t we stay here with Caleb?”

I squeeze my eyes shut and feel the tears collecting in the corners. “Because Caleb has been very kind allowing us to stay, but … well … think of this as a vacation.”

It seems to satisfy her because she doesn’t ask any more questions, and within minutes, her breathing slows, and her limbs grow limp.

And I’m left alone with my thoughts.

I meant what I said to Abigail—we’ll both go back to our previous life eventually, only I can’t imagine being anywhere else without Caleb, and he belongs here. Without us.

I tuck the blanket around Abigail and lean my head back against the outdoor sofa. The sky is velvet-black, the stars merging into a mysterious silver glow when I allow my eyelids to droop. The vastness of space is overwhelming. I’m just a tiny speck on a rooftop in a universe that is too huge to even comprehend, and it makes all our lives seem so inconsequential.

Olivia Dragonetti might be dangerous, but even she is only a speck in the universe. She isn’t all-powerful. She isn’t an omnipresence, a mystical being with powers beyond comprehension. She isn’t immortal as she seems to believe she is with the power to mess with other people’s lives. She’s just a spoiled princess with mafia roots.

And I’m fucked if I’m going to sit back and let her hurt my brother and Sienna.

I must doze because I’m woken by the warmth of Caleb’s fingers on my cheek. Startled, I open my eyes and blink away the remnants of sleep, to find his face so close to mine I can feel his breath on my lips.

“Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful.”

I smile sleepily. My left arm has gone numb with Abigail’s weight on me, and I wince as I try to flex my rubbery fingers.

“Here, let me.” Caleb doesn’t wait around for my permission. He slides one arm underneath Abigail’s legs, his other arm wrapping around her and stroking my breast beneath the blanket at the same time.

My skin tingles with his touch, my nipples instantly erect. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

I go to stand up, but he tells me to stay where I am. “I can put her in her bed. I’m not completely useless, you know.”

I smile at his receding back, the scent of vanilla lingering in his wake. He carries Abigail as if she were no heavier than a sack of feathers, his back muscles rippling beneath his shirt. My pussy responds of its own free will, tightening and tingling, and I reflexively chew my bottom lip. I don’t know how many times I can do this when I still don’t know what ‘this’ even is, but I also know that if he comes back to the rooftop and orders me to lie down and open my legs, that’s exactly what I’ll do.

I can’t help smiling when Caleb returns a short while later having swapped his shirt and suit pants for jeans and a jersey sweater that defines every muscle of his upper body. He’s holding a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes.

“What are we celebrating?”

“Do we need a reason to drink champagne?” He sets the glasses down on the table and pops the cork, the bubbles froth over his wrist before they settle. He fills a glass and hands it to me.

I’ve only tried champagne a handful of times, and it always goes straight to my head, so I sip it slowly, the liquid fizzing behind my top teeth.

Caleb fills his own glass and sits beside me, his thigh pressed up against mine, his warmth transferring to me through our clothes. Whenever I’m in the apartment, I change into my own clothes—I don’t want to get comfortable wearing the outfits Caleb bought for me or it will be even harder to hand them back when it’s time for me to leave.

My heart is thumping. I wonder if it would always be this way if we were to stay together or if this physical attraction would become muted over time. Would his presence eventually produce a warm glow inside me instead of this red-hot passion? Would I be disappointed when this happened, or would it be such a gradual thing that neither of us would even notice?

Tears well in my eyes.

“Hey.” Caleb catches a teardrop on his fingertip. Holding it up to the glow of the fairy lights, he studies it closely and then places it on his tongue. “We’ll find Mason and Sienna.”

I swallow another small sip of champagne. Does he really think the tears are for my brother and my friend? Or is this his way of avoiding a conversation about us?

“Caleb…”

“Shh.” He puts his glass down and leans closer, smoothing my hair away from my face. “You know how gorgeous you are, right?” He cups my face with both hands and kisses my eyelids, the tip of my nose, my earlobes.

“No, I?—”

He kisses my lips. I want to tell him that I’ve never felt as beautiful, as special, as desirable as he makes me feel, and I doubt that I will ever feel this way again. I want to tell him that, for me at least, this is way more than a marriage contract. That I never intended to develop feelings for him, but now that I have, he has grown roots inside my heart that I will never be able to cut down.

I want to ask him if he feels the same way.

But my body is talking its own language, and I also know that I’m powerless to stop responding to his touch. So, when he slides my hips towards him and leans over me, I comb my fingers through his hair and kiss him like this is the last time we will ever get to do this.

Caleb unbuttons my shirt without popping the buttons. He unfastens my jeans and slides his hand inside my panties, his cold fingers slipping easily inside my sex. I gasp against his lips.

“You’re so wet.” His breath mingles with mine when he speaks, and I smile. “You’re dripping like a fucking waterfall. Is this just for me?”

I don’t answer. I pull him towards me and kiss him, feeling my pussy clench around his finger.

“Say it. Say it’s just for me.”

“It’s just for you,” I breathe against his lips.

“Tell me you’re mine, Victoria.” His voice is husky. I can’t read the gleam in his eyes, but it’s enough for me to know that it’s all for me.

“I’m yours, Caleb.”

He kisses me deeply, his tongue filling my mouth, his free hand stroking my neck.

Then he pulls away and stands abruptly, leaving my lips still parted, my tongue still searching for his. He offers me his hand and pulls me onto my feet.

“Take off your clothes m’ áilleacht .”

“But…” I peer around the rooftop.

We’re alone up here. Abigail is sound asleep in her bed downstairs, and the only way anyone can reach us is by going through Martin and his men guarding the penthouse elevator. But it isn’t the fear of getting caught that’s stopping me. I’ve never undressed in front of a man before, and I don’t know how to make it look sexy.

“Take off your clothes, Victoria.” His voice is firm; it’s an order.

I shrug my shirt over my shoulders and drop it onto the floor. My jeans are already undone, so I slide them over my hips and step out of them, kicking them aside too.

“Continue.”

I reach behind me and unhook my bra, letting it fall from my breasts and land on the floor at my feet. The cool night breeze and Caleb’s gaze on my breasts makes my nipples stand erect. Watching him closely, I slide my panties over my hips and nudge them aside with my bare feet.

I thought I would feel self-conscious standing naked in front of him, but I can tell by his appreciative gaze that he likes what he sees.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

And in the moment, I believe him.

Caleb tugs his sweater over his head and tosses it on top of my discarded clothes. Then he removes his jeans. He’s commando underneath, and his cock springs free, standing thick and proud.

He walks toward me and caresses my breasts with his fingertips, lingering on the marks he gave me, while he kisses me on the lips. It’s a tender kiss, quite unlike any we have shared before, and a shiver runs down my spine.

“Get in the pool.”

My gaze drifts towards the water that’s still shimmering golden with the twinkling fairy lights. “The pool?”

“I’ll count to three, and if you’re not in the pool, I’ll throw you in.” He says this with a wicked smile.

I do as I’m told. I’ve always thought of myself as an independent woman, but there’s a huge part of me that wants to be dominated. It’s like this is the one area of my life that I can relinquish control to, and I know that I will do whatever Caleb tells me to do. And I will enjoy it more than I have ever enjoyed anything else.

The water is heated, but still, goosebumps pop on my flesh as I walk into the water. Caleb follows me. He stands in front of me, the water up to my waist, and kisses me before trailing his tongue down to my nipple. He sucks hard with one arm around my back, holding me tightly so that I can’t move.

His other hand finds my sex under the water. He inserts a finger, and I instinctively spread my legs. Two fingers. Three. I don’t know where the water ends and my wetness begins, but I want him to fill me up, so I raise my feet from the bottom of the pool and float towards him, his fingers supporting me in the water.

Caleb submerges my upper body; his mouth still finds my nipple under the water’s surface. I reach for his cock, wrapping my fist around his girth. He rams his fingers inside me, the water lapping the sides of the pool with our movements.

Without warning, Caleb removes his fingers, carries me to the side, and sits me on the edge. He spreads my legs wide, gripping my thighs to keep them open. Then he pushes his tongue inside me.

I lean backwards, rest my head on the tiled floor, and arch my spine, forcing myself onto him. I stare at the stars. All I can think about is the feel of Caleb’s tongue inside me, rasping back and forth across my clit. The tingling, and the throbbing. I want it to last all night, but I’m powerless to stop my orgasm from bursting out of me.

Panting, I barely feel Caleb pushing my thighs backwards, raising my ass off the side of the pool. His tongue travels between my sex and my butt, while his fingers play with my orgasm. They keep it coming and coming. I think he says, “Good girl,” but colors explode behind my eyelids, and the stars, when I open my eyes, are twinkling just for me and Caleb.

I lie there, limp and spent until he picks me up and slides me onto his cock. I wrap my legs around him, and he walks back towards the middle of the pool, our bodies submerged up to our chests. Arms around his neck, Caleb’s hands still gripping my thighs, I ride him under the water until he comes inside me, his warm cum mingling with the pool water trapped inside me.

After, we lie on the decking side by side, our skin tingling as it dries, and sip champagne. Caleb leans over me and dribbles champagne from his mouth to mine, his fingers making a trail around my breasts.

He doesn’t speak, but everything about tonight is so tender, so perfect, that I feel the glimmer of hope that this is way more than either of us expected it to be, sparking inside me.

Breakfast is waiting for me the following morning when I wake up in Caleb’s bed: poached eggs and oak-smoked salmon, a rack of brown toast, jelly and marmalade and neat curls of butter, steaming coffee and cream, and a selection of pastries for me to share with Abigail. A note is tucked inside a pristine white napkin with the Wraith emblem in one corner.

The car is waiting to take you to the Titan .

I swallow hard. A moment ago, I wanted to devour everything on this tray, but now the smell of the smoked salmon is making me feel nauseous.

I push it away, shower quickly, and carry the tray through to the kitchen to eat with Abigail. Still, I only manage to nibble a slice of toast while my eyes devour the food.

Moira and Emily are waiting for us when we arrive. Emily takes Abigail to the playroom used by some of the employee’s children, while Moira and I check out the ballroom.

The Titan doesn’t have the sleek, dark splendor of the Wraith, but it does reflect the golden era of Hollywood. The pale gold walls shimmer with the glow of tasseled wall lamps. The overhead chandeliers appear to sprinkle golden raindrops on our heads. The floor is so highly polished that it looks wet, and there are framed black and white photos of celebrities hanging on the walls.

I stand in the middle of the ballroom and turn three-sixty. I’m gaping but I don’t even care. The ceiling is ultra-high, and when I let out a giggle, it echoes off the walls. I didn’t expect to be this wowed by it, given the situation with Olivia, but it’s perfect for a wedding reception.

When I turn around to face Moira, her face is beaming. “You love it, I can tell.”

“I do.” I hesitate.

“But?”

“But… Moira, I don’t…” Jeez, I can be such a wimp when it comes to saying how I feel about stuff. “I feel bad knowing that this is all … for show.” It sounds way worse when I say it out loud than it did in my head.

Moira’s expression relaxes into a smile. “Why don’t you let me worry about that, huh?” Her perfectly shaped eyebrows slant upwards. “One thing you should know about this family: we don’t do things by halves. We could make this a small intimate affair. Or we could forget all about it, carry on as if my new daughter-in-law doesn’t care about being introduced to our friends and family.”

Her tone is pleasant, but I understand what she’s saying. We have no choice. Caleb Murray would throw an extravagant party, he would invite everyone he knows to meet his bride, and he would take immense pleasure from showing her off.

If only this were real.

It’s now down to me and Caleb to make everyone believe that this is real, and with memories of last night lingering in my mind, it shouldn’t be too difficult.

“Good.” Moira nods once. “Come, I’ll introduce you to Bastien.”

Bastien, or Bash as he’s affectionately known to his family and friends, is waiting for us at a corner table in the Titan’s restaurant. He stands when we enter and kisses Moira on both cheeks before taking my hand and greeting me the same way.

The glitz and glamor are evident in the restaurant too, and I wonder if the décor in each building reflects the brothers’ personalities. The sleek black charm of the Wraith and the extravagant glam sparkle of the Titan.

“So, how is married life with my brother treating you?” A half-smile plays on Bash’s lips.

Color immediately rises from my neck to my cheeks, and I wish that I could control it. “It’s … different.”

Bash laughs; it’s an easy infectious sound. “I see Caleb has made an impression on you.”

Fuck! Is it that obvious? I lower my eyes and pray that Moira doesn’t notice or ask him what he means.

She doesn’t. “Ignore my son, Victoria.”

She helps herself to brandy from a decanter on the table and offers to fill my glass. I decline and sip my iced water instead. I don’t know how they all drink so much liquor and still function like normal human beings.

“Victoria has her own ideas about the ballroom for the wedding reception,” she continues. “Whatever she wants…” She leaves the sentence hanging.

“Sure thing. You’re family now.” He winks at Moira who raises her glass to an invisible toast.

I wish I could read their expressions or their body language, but these people might as well be aliens from another planet, and I feel so out of my depth that I sip my water waiting for a suitable response to spring to mind.

I almost choke on the liquid when a woman approaches the table and says my name. Heart racing, I peer around to find Denise watching me as if she had just seen a ghost.

“Denise.” I hear the tremor in my own voice. I realize how it must look and feel guilty for not telling Denise what happened after Caleb fired me from the concierge position.

“You two know each other?” Bash asks.

“Yes… I… That is, Denise knows my mom.”

I stand and excuse myself from the table so that I can speak to Denise out of earshot. When we are alone in the corridor outside the restaurant, I suck in a deep breath, psyching myself up to explain what’s going on.

“Denise, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner but… It all happened so quickly, and when I tried to find you, you were not at the Wraith, and then it all kind of spiraled out of control, and…”

It’s such a crazy, unbelievable situation that I don’t know how she will react to the news that I’m married to her boss, and I realize that I still desperately want her to be on my side.

“And…?” Her voice is cold, and my stomach is lurching.

Deep breath. Here goes. “After Caleb Murray fired me, he came to me with a proposition. He asked me to marry him. On paper. We’re not really married, at least, there hasn’t been a wedding.” The words are tumbling out, and I glance around to make sure that no one can hear us. “It’s a long story.”

“Wow.” Denise blinks at me. “So, you’re here because…”

“Because we’re going to hold our wedding reception at the Titan. Our fake wedding reception.”

Denise shakes her head, trying to process the news. “You and Caleb Murray.”

I wince. “I know how crazy it sounds. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

She narrows her eyes. “Or right place, right time, depending on how you look at it.”

“I’ve never met anyone like Caleb Murray before.” I blurt it out before I can stop myself. “He’s going to help us, Denise. He’s going to give me enough money to clear Mason’s debts.” It occurs to me then that she doesn’t know about Mason, but I don’t want to overload her with information.

Finally, after what feels like an age, Denise shrugs. “Will I get an invitation?”

I smile. “Of course.” Pause. “But, Denise, please don’t tell Mom.”

She regards me coolly. “If that’s what you want. I guess it’s better coming from you, anyway.”

“Thank you.” I hug her tightly.

She pulls away and teases a lock of my hair over my shoulder. “Just be careful, Victoria. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Too late for that, I think as I head back inside the restaurant.

After the Titan, Moira takes me shopping on Fifth Avenue, ignoring my protests that there are enough outfits in my dressing room in Caleb’s apartment to clothe me for an entire year.

“This is your wedding reception, Victoria.” We’re passing the Prada store as she says this. “You deserve to wear something special.”

I’ve never shopped on Fifth Avenue before. Sure, I’ve walked along here plenty of times, I’ve even window shopped, staring open-mouthed at ball gowns that cost more than I earn in a year, and diamond rings that would feed an entire country for a month. But I’ve never been here knowing that I could buy whatever I want.

It’s a giddy feeling. It’s like having an out-of-body experience and watching myself from above. Moira peers in windows, oblivious to the bodyguards trailing us at a discreet distance, then comes to an abrupt halt outside Vivaldi.

“What color are you thinking?”

“I-I haven’t thought about it.”

I follow her inside and wait while she speaks to the store assistant. It’s like a scene from Pretty Woman —my favorite scene—where Julia Roberts sits down, and the assistant brings her gown after gown to get her approval.

It feels surreal trying on outfits that feel expensive even without looking at the price tag. Maybe it’s my imagination, but the fabric is heavier, it lays differently against my skin, and when I peer at my reflection in the mirror, I barely recognize myself. I look like the kind of woman I would expect to see on Caleb Murray’s arm in a glossy magazine.

Moira studies each gown with a critical eye. When she eventually raises her eyes and smiles, I know we’ve found the right dress. It’s floor length, fitted, in soft wine-red fabric, with a plunging neckline offset by bold ombre petals on either side of my exposed flesh.

“This is the one.” Moira stands and circles me, examining the dress from every angle.” You look beautiful, Victoria.”

I undress in a daze and accept the bag containing my dress from the assistant with a polite thank you. After everything else that has happened, this is the most surreal, shopping on Fifth Avenue with my fake mother-in-law for an outfit to wear to my fake wedding reception.

“I need a coffee,” I mutter to myself when we’re standing outside the store.

“Oh, I think we can do better than that.” Moira covers my hand with hers. “I know you probably dreamed of shopping for a white wedding gown with your mom, Victoria, but I just want to say thank you for letting me be a part of your experience.”

There are tears in her eyes, and for one wild crazy moment, I allow myself to believe that this is really happening.