Corrupt Vows (Vicious Mafia Kings #1)

Chapter 1

Serenity Vivaldi

I ignore Sebastian’s posturing as he scans the shop for potential threats before he squeezes his burly, tattooed body into a nearby chair. He sticks out like a sore thumb in my favorite upscale coffee place, but ever since my sister’s accident, my father insists I always keep a bodyguard nearby. It seems ridiculous as I sit surrounded by regular people looking for their morning caffeine fix, but nausea twists my stomach as I push away the memory of my father carrying my sister’s limp, bloody frame up the stairs nearly two months ago.

“Are you sure you haven’t already had a cup of coffee this morning?” Alfonso asks.

I shake my head at my childhood friend—and future betrothed—and lift my fancy disposable cup to show him.

“Nope. This is my first sip,” I say before bringing it to my face.

The steam itself nearly burns my lips, so I blow over the tiny hole instead of scorching my tongue.

Alfonso chuckles before crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his seat.

“No one should be this gorgeous first thing in the morning, especially after you stayed out so late last night.”

“For fuck’s sake, Alfie, I didn’t mean to stand you up. I already apologized, and it’s not like I was out clubbing or being stupid, so—”

“Sheesh, Nitty, calm down and learn how to take a compliment already,” he says before wrapping his long, thin fingers around his drink and taking several bold swallows.

I grit my teeth and pop the lid off my cup, needing to do something with my hands so I don’t wring his handsome neck.

Almost every woman who walks by does a double take when they see him. They leave smiling into their coffee with more pep in their step than when they entered. All I see is the boy who used to follow me around, playing house and reading books, just so his older brothers would leave him alone. He learned the power of my birthright early on.

No one wants to cross a mafia princess, not when she’s the daughter of the most powerful mafia dons in New York City. Not even when she’s a timid little bookworm who spends her days in a world of imagination.

Alfonso is no longer the scrawny child or gangly teen of my youth, and I’m no longer a girl with her head stuck in the clouds.

As Matteo Vivaldi’s daughter, I don’t have the same freedoms as most twenty-five-year-olds. Hence the bulky bodyguard breathing down my neck—not literally, because then my father would kill him—but Sebastian’s presence keeps things in perspective.

I may have limited freedoms, but at least I can choose who I marry. Camilla, my older sister, will never have that luxury. A lump forms in my throat, and I blink back sudden tears. Even though she’s still recovering from her car accident, our parents will announce her marriage to Nico Russo next week, a man more terrifying and powerful than my father.

I want to marry Alfonso. He’s like me—mafia royalty, but not the firstborn. As the fourth son in the Bonnetti family, he started college early and became the youngest lawyer in New York City, and even though he’ll work for the mafia, he’ll never live a dangerous life like the man my sister will be forced to marry.

My parents already secretly approved my decision to marry Alfonso. Our joining will strengthen both families. We may not have amazing chemistry, but he’s the only one I can see myself with. I gave him my first kiss, we’ve dated off and on, and I’ve never felt the need to find anyone else. He’s safe and comfortable, just what I need in a husband. We’ll have time to grow our attraction once we say our vows.

“So, how’s it coming? Are you going to show me your work this time?” Alfonso asks.

I sigh and inhale the steam wafting off my coffee, yearning for the rush of sugar and caffeine but unwilling to burn my tongue.

I missed our dinner last night because I lost myself in my art. With my second round of group critiques starting next week and my muse finally playing nicely, I’d spend every waking moment in the art studio if I could, but I’ve neglected my other duties for too long already.

I blink as guilt barrels through me. No matter how wonderful it felt to work on my sculpture, I should have been there for my sister last night instead.

“I take it your answer is no,” Alfie says with an exaggerated quirk of his brow.

“Probably not,” I mumble before blowing away the steam and taking a tentative sip.

He nods in acceptance despite the hurt flashing in his eyes. I open my mouth to apologize, but hiss instead as boiling liquid sloshes over the back of my hand.

He takes my drink and sets it on the table before yanking several napkins from the dispenser. With meticulous care, he wipes my fingers and tosses the napkins on the table. I stare at his masculine hands cupped around mine and swallow the lump in my throat.

“Sorry, Alfie. It’s nothing personal, I promise. I’m just not ready.”

“You’re aware art isn’t meant to be perfect, right? Like, there’s no right or wrong in expressing yourself,” he says.

I roll my eyes before meeting his.

“And what does a lawyer know about art?” I tease.

“I know everything. I’m friends with a very talented artist, you know,” he murmurs before picking up my coffee and blowing over it a few times then popping the lid back on and wrapping my fingers around it.

“Now take that and go see your sister before your guilt makes the entire coffee shop think I’m a terrible guy for making a beautiful broad like you cry first thing in the morning,” he says as he sits back and lifts his cup to his lips.

“Wow, Alf, that was quite the mouthful,” I huff as I stand. “Thanks, and I’m sorry. See you this evening?”

“I’ll take a rain check. Focus on your masterpiece. I’ll still be here when you finish,” he says.

I offer him a small smile and a nod of thanks before fitting my purse onto my shoulder and waving goodbye.

Sebastian stays right on my heels as I exit onto the street. Busier than when I entered the shop, but still nowhere near as crowded as rush hour, the sidewalk teems with people bustling toward their morning plans. A corner gawker steps toward me, only to dart away when he sees my bodyguard. I glance at my watch and look over my shoulder.

Sebastian gestures to the black car pulling up to the curb. I check the license plate and the driver before slipping into the backseat.

The front door closes behind Sebastian and the car jerks between lanes as the driver navigates the city roads. I filter through emails on my phone and sip my coffee until we reach the hospital.

“Thanks, Tony. I don’t know how long I’ll be inside,” I say to the driver as I unbuckle.

“I’ll be around,” he grunts back.

Knowing there’s no arguing since he’s just following my father’s orders, I shrug and hop out before the car even stops rolling. Both men curse, and Sebastian scrambles to catch up with me as I stride through the hospital’s front entrance.

I toss my empty cup in the trash and ignore the nurse’s station as I head straight to the elevator. Sebastian glowers as a few random people join us, but I stand in the back corner until we reach our floor.

Two meatheads overflow the plastic chairs across the hall from my sister’s room. Not wanting to disturb her if she’s sleeping, I slip through the door and quietly close it behind me.

With the curtains drawn and the overhead lights off, Camilla’s face glows in the green light from the monitor beside the bed. An off-white cast covers her left forearm. Her hand twitches against the sheet, and even without her normal array of rings, her fingers look feminine and elegant.

The fading bruises and lingering swelling covering most of her body make the coffee churn in my stomach, but I drop my purse onto the chair and slip my fingers under her uninjured hand. She twitches again before slowly lifting her lashes and studying my face with glazed eyes.

“Serenity?” she asks.

“Yep, it’s me, mia sorella . I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. How did it go?”

Her empty-shell stare terrifies me.

“Are you in a lot of pain? How many pins did they put in your arm?”

She shakes her head and shifts. Pain twists her face. Her bottom lip trembles. Panic grips me and I rush to ensure she’s okay.

“Do you want me to call the nurse? I can—”

“I’m sorry, Senny,” she whispers.

A tear escapes from her lashes and trails down her temple. I wipe it away with my thumb.

“Hey, it’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry—”

“It’s not okay!” Her outburst shocks me into silence. “It’ll never be okay again.” She grabs the front of my shirt and yanks me closer. “I’ve ruined everything .” Her sob hurts my chest. “I’m sorry, Serenity.” She shoves me away and breaks down. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

I shuffle backward until I find my balance and step toward her again, but she snatches the tissue box off the tray and throws it at me.

“Don’t say it’s okay! It’s all fucked .” She blindly grabs the TV remote and flings it across the room. “I fucked up everything, and you’re making it worse .” She sweeps her arm over the tray, knocking everything onto the floor. “ Vaffanculo! Get out. Get. Out!”

I mash the call button on the wall and hold my breath until three nurses rush into the room. Camilla fights, but the burly brunette holds her still while the blonde administers a light sedative. My head spins, but I don’t breathe until she relaxes. As they ease her onto her back and check her vitals, I reach for the blankets that fell on the floor, but the slim blonde stops me.

“Leave those. We’ll get her some clean ones.”

I nod like a puppet and hesitate as I focus on my sister’s body. With her gown unsnapped from her tussle with the nurses, the parted fabric reveals three small square patches along her lower abdomen and the hospital-grade disposable mesh underwear she’s wearing.

Neither is necessary for arm surgery.

I stumble before catching myself on the footboard. As the nurses bustle around me, making sure my sister is as comfortable as she can be, I stare at Camilla’s slack face and fight the urge to throw up.

I turn to ask the blonde a question, but I can’t peel my dry tongue off the roof of my mouth, so I snatch my purse off the chair and stagger into the hallway.

All three guards stand, but I ignore them and fish my phone out of my purse.

I call my mom and press the phone to my ear.

Fear skitters down my spine as my father answers.

“Come home, Serenity. Now,” he says.

“Yes, sir,” I respond through numb lips.

As I hang up and drop my phone into my purse, Sebastian follows me into the elevator and mashes the button to close the door before anyone else enters.

Horror cages me into a box of disbelief.

I don’t want to think about what my sister must have gone through, but there’s only one reason my parents wouldn’t have told me about her abdominal surgery.

They said she’d survived a car crash caused by a rival gang and caught a few fists before her bodyguards saved her, but I don’t believe them. Not anymore.

Dread curdles my stomach, and I eye the trash can containing my empty coffee cup, but I won’t embarrass my family by vomiting in public, so I continue past and step out into the sun.

The light doesn’t reach my soul. I’ll always carry this darkness within me.

Long buried memories threaten to resurface. I turn off my thoughts and drop into the backseat of the car.

Despite my blank mind, premonition eats away at my patience.

For the first time in years, I wish I could run away.

Worse is yet to come. I don’t know what it is, but every cell in my body insists I should flee.

Except there’s no way out for me. I’m a mafia princess, just like my sister. No matter what horrors we face, there’s no distance we could travel, no amount of money we could earn, and no man on earth strong enough to free us from this life.

I stare out the window but see nothing as we hurtle through the city.