Corrupt Vows (Vicious Mafia Kings #1)

Chapter 3

Serenity Vivaldi

Bitterness coats my tongue. I don’t know what I ever did to make Nico Russo hate me, but I can’t recall ever receiving a single kind word from him.

Maybe it’s the eight-year age gap between us, but his sister is younger than I am, and he’s always been sweet with her.

He’s too dangerous for me. The air practically sizzles with the lethal menace wafting from him.

I tuck my resentment and dread into a little box in the back of my mind.

Alfonso would never scowl at me or threaten me like this. He’s more brains than brawn, which suits me much better than Nico’s unyielding ruthlessness.

Yet, as I spin on my heel to return to the kitchen, I rub the ache in my chest and ignore the edgy, interested heat between my legs.

I need today to end already. Between my sister’s meltdown at the hospital, my father’s cryptic summons, and whatever surprise my brother Giorgio has just sprung on my parents, I’m not sure I can handle much more.

I grab a clean washcloth, drop a scoop of ice in the center, and twist the fabric into an ice pack as I rush down the hall.

My cheeks heat as I pick my way through the melting ice cubes in the hall, but I ignore my embarrassment and continue into the study. I make a wide circle around Nico’s shoulder as he overflows the couch’s armrest and press the ice pack to Giorgio’s face. He hisses, but doesn’t push me away.

“Don’t move, mio figlio ,” mamma scolds him, no doubt using the term of endearment since we have a visitor. She pulls the thread tight before going in for another stitch on his bicep. He grimaces but doesn’t otherwise complain.

My stomach lurches. I close my eyes and breathe through my nose, but the scent of iron makes my nausea worse, so I blink and focus on the bookshelf behind papà’s desk. Ugly memories nibble at the edges of my mind, but I banish them with my fear and grab the side of my brother’s head to hold him still.

“It’s just a scratch, mamma. I’ll be fine,” he hisses.

“I told you I’d fix you up if you ever came home like this again, so be still,” she answers in a faux sweet voice.

Resentment infects my veins as I relive the cruelties she’s shown me throughout the years. My fingers go numb.

“Shit, Senny, are you trying to crush my skull?” Giorgio complains.

I relinquish the ice pack to him and step away.

“Watch your language around your mother,” my father says from the chair at the head of the sitting area.

A muscle ticks in Nico’s jaw.

“Yes, sir,” Giorgio responds.

“Serenity, get our guest a drink,” my father demands.

It feels like a trap. I swallow, turn to our guest , and ask him his preference.

At his order of a whiskey on the rocks, I offer him the most cordial smile I can manage and pretend like my senses aren’t hyper focused on his presence as I turn, walk to the bar, and fill a glass for him.

“Be a doll and get your brother a drink, too,” my father instructs.

I flip over a second glass and pour two fingers of my brother’s favorite, but when I turn around, I nearly drop both glasses at the expression on Nico’s face. My stomach freefalls, heat blooms low in my abdomen, and fear steals my breath. I’m not sure why he’s angry, or why he’s staring at me like I’m his next meal, but my body lights up. Dormant nerve endings awaken. Electricity zaps from my toes to the top of my head. My core clenches and my nipples harden.

Self-disgust curdles my insides.

I’ve hit an all-time low, lusting after my sister’s soon-to-be fiancé. Besides, Nico is too cold, dangerous, and violent. He doesn’t like me, and I don’t like him.

I steel my spine and offer our guest his drink first, aware of how he avoids touching my hand, then I give my brother his liquor.

“Sit down there, Serenity,” my father says with a gesture to the spot on the couch closest to his chair. The couch where Nico sits. The couch opposite my mother and brother.

Unease creeps up my spine. This is wrong. I don’t want to sit between my father and the eldest son of the Russo family. The menace wafting from each man terrifies me.

I sit and wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans before leaning back and weaving my fingers together on my lap. Even with the throw pillow on the otherwise empty cushion between us, my side tingles in awareness of him, but I ignore Nico and focus on my family.

Mamma tapes a bandage over Giorgio’s wound and closes the first aid box. Without a word, she gathers the supplies and disappears into the hall.

Fear curdles my stomach as silence descends. Nico swirls his glass as it dangles from his tattooed fingers, filling the room with the sound of clinking ice.

Mamma returns and sits across from me. Worms eat at my belly. It feels wrong to be on the opposite couch from my family.

In fact, it’s weird Nico is here without his father. They usually come together.

My unease grows.

Nico swirls his ice again as Giorgio drains his drink and clacks his empty glass down on the table.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice. I know you’re a busy man, so I’ll get right to the point,” Matteo Vivaldi, my father, says in his business voice. A chill runs down my spine.

He leans forward and braces his elbows on the ends of the armrests.

“We need to make an adjustment to our agreement.”

Nico sips his drink and sets it on the side table before responding.

“What kind of adjustment?”

Dread forms a lead ball in my stomach.

My mother’s eyes bore into me. Giorgio leans back, but the intensity in his eyes matches my father’s.

“Camilla can’t fulfill the terms.”

I blink. My father’s words echo in my ears.

“Serenity can,” he says.

I jerk my attention to the man I equally fear and trust.

He’s joking, right?

“You’ll marry Serenity instead,” my father finishes.

A black hole forms under me. He can’t be serious. This is just a cruel joke. He didn’t suggest Nico Russo, the only man in New York City who could rival his power and ruthlessness, should marry me instead of my sister. He didn’t slot me into her spot as though we’re interchangeable.

I turn to Nico, certain he’ll declare war between the families before he accepts me as his wife.

I’m no replacement for my sister. She’s a model, for fuck’s sake. She’s tall, slim, gorgeous, and outgoing, making her the obvious choice.

Plus, I don’t want to marry him. I want to marry Alfonso.

Nico’s intense stare steals the couch out from under me. The hunger in his gaze threatens to swallow me whole.

I’m hallucinating. This isn’t real.

I remain frozen as he shifts his gaze to my father.

“I accept.”

His deep timbre arrows straight to my core. I stare in disbelief until he lowers his icy grey eyes down to mine.

Red-hot fury blasts through me. I shake with it.

“I have my own amendment to make,” he says.

His slightly mocking tone both humiliates and infuriates me. I expect him to heap more insults on injury by demanding I keep my distance.

Hope blooms. Maybe he’ll push the wedding back a few years. Maybe I can finish college as a Vivaldi.

“She moves in with me the day we announce our engagement.”

The blood drains out of my head. I turn to my father.

“No. Say no, papà.”

My father grinds his jaw and stares at me with emotionless eyes.

“This isn’t happening. I won’t marry him,” I say.

“Yes, you will,” he demands.

My heart shatters. He’s never been sweet to me, but I’ve worked hard to be worthy of his protection. I want him to be proud of me. I need him to accept me and love me no matter what mistakes I’ve made.

I haven’t made a mistake, yet the look in his eyes promises retribution if I argue.

I can’t stop myself. The rage boiling in my veins is too painful.

“You said I could marry—”

“No, we didn’t,” my mother interrupts. “Don’t mistake your daydreams for reality, Serenity. This is happening. You will marry Nico Russo, and you’ll do it with a smile and a gracious thank you. Capisci ?”

I fight the urge to shrink in on myself. She may as well have backhanded me. Pain stabs through my heart from my parents’ betrayal.

Emotions clog my throat. I can’t nod my head and agree with her, but I can’t openly rebel, either.

I know I have no choice, but that doesn’t mean I’ll go willingly.

“She can continue her college classes, as long as they don’t interfere with our wedding plans—which will be in four months, not six,” Nico says as though he’s buying furniture and not negotiating my entire future.

To my horror, my father nods and thanks him.

He doesn’t push back. Doesn’t tell Nico his plan is ridiculous. Doesn’t demand I stay home for the precious few months I have left with my family. Doesn’t protect me. Doesn’t care for me.

What I want doesn’t matter. My dreams aren’t important. I mean nothing to him.

His talk of family being the center of his world goes out the window. All the disgusting things he’s ever done in his life, including the horrible scene I witnessed in this study years ago, weren’t for the family.

They were for him. He covets power above all else.

I have no words to describe the level of hurt his betrayal causes me. My mother has always criticized me, so while her harsh words sting, they don’t cut nearly as deep as my father’s.

I breathe in through my nose until my lungs ache.

If this were a fairytale, Alfonso would bust down the door and save me, but this isn’t a fairytale, I’m not a damsel in distress, and Alfonso isn’t that kind of man, which is why I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.

When my mind tries to place Nico as my knight in shining armor, I laugh. Out loud.

Which makes the situation impossibly worse.

I devolve into cackling like a witch on Halloween.

My mother’s horrified expression erases my mirth. I wipe my tears and take a deep breath before straightening my spine and meeting my new tormentor’s cold, unamused eyes.

Deciding a hasty retreat will be best, I offer him the sweetest, most saccharine smile and add an extra heap of sarcasm to my words.

“You’re so considerate. Thank you.”

I rise and head toward the door, but he grabs my wrist as I try to pass in front of him. I stop mid step but keep my eyes on the exit.

“Like you mean it, Serenity.”

For half a second, my name on his lips renders me speechless until his cool tone registers. Icy fury rolls down my spine, and I swivel my gaze to his.

“Excuse me?” I challenge.

“Thank me like you mean it,” he says.

For the first time in my life, I want to punch someone, even if it means my probable death, but the thought of violence cools my ardor. I push his hand off my wrist, expecting him to clamp down; instead, he releases me and lounges back. His pose does nothing to counteract the feral gleam in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. Maybe next time.”

I make a beeline for the door, expecting him to grab me at any moment, but he lets me escape into the hallway. His eyes heat my back as my father’s voice breaks the uncomfortable silence.

I don’t look back.

I can’t afford to.

My parents will announce my engagement to the most terrifying, infuriating man next week.

I’m not ready. I never will be.

In four months, I’ll wed the man my sister was supposed to marry.

Nico Russo will take me as his wife, even if no one—including him—wants me to be his bride.

My happily ever after is fucked.