Corrupt Vows (Vicious Mafia Kings #1)

Chapter 6

Nico Russo

The metal chair squeaks as I lean back and check my watch. Two hours of torture, and we haven’t made nearly enough progress. I sigh and roll up my shirt sleeves.

These men aren’t from the same outfit as the lowlifes we killed in the factory a few days ago. While I appreciate their fortitude and dedication, I have somewhere equally important—but much more fun—to be.

I stand, grab a roll of duct tape from the table, and pull my knife from my belt.

“C’mon, gents, let’s wrap this up,” I say as I approach the fatty hanging by his wrists with his toes brushing against the floor. My men scramble out of my way.

Ermanno, who was using the big man as a punching bag, steps back and flicks the blood off his knuckles. I stop and glance at the splatter in front of me.

“Sorry, boss. Forgot you had somewhere fancy to be after this,” he goads.

Leave it to my workaholic second-in-command to gain a sense of humor the day before my engagement.

“Who funded you?” I ask the four idiots strung up around the room.

When none of them speak, I start naming neighboring families, punctuating each one with an ominous click of my heel as I step closer to the biggest man.

I cut off a strip of tape, enjoying the fear in my victims’ eyes as each sound echoes in the concrete basement. My men grab the goons’ hair and force them to watch as I stalk toward my prey.

I slap the tape over his mouth before he spits a bloody wad at me. The barrier isn’t to stop his screams—no one will help him down here, no matter how loud he yells—but his muffled cursing is an amusing bonus as I prevent him from dirtying my clothes. I grab the hair at the top of his head, keeping my arm away from his bloody face, and lift the tip of my knife to his eye.

“Anyone ready to talk?” I ask.

No one answers.

I press forward. He screams. My knife slides a quarter of an inch into his eyeball like butter. Clear fluid seeps out around my blade and trails down his face. The scent of piss fills the air. Ermanno grabs his legs as he kicks, but the man’s terror and my fist in his hair keep his top half relatively still.

“Anyone wanna speak up?”

Chains clink as I push my knife a little deeper. Muffled by the tape, the big man’s pleas morph into screams of pain.

I slide deeper. Red gushes around my blade.

“How about now?” I ask.

Without changing pace, I sink the rest of my knife into his eye socket. The sound of his pals vomiting bounces off the walls. I twist my wrist. The man’s screams go silent. I work the hilt back and forth. His toes tap against the floor as his entire body seizes.

“Who told you to set up shop here?”

They’re too busy pleading and blowing chunks to respond. I yank my blade free and step back, narrowly avoiding the blood gushing from the man’s empty eye socket, and turn—with my knife still dripping—and stalk toward my next target.

He talks so fast he sounds like someone sped up a recording and turned him into a chipmunk.

“Tarzan from Chicago played middleman for a bigger fish. Don’t know who. They didn’t tell us.”

“Who does Tarzan usually work for?”

I know the answer—each of the five leading families in New York City keeps tabs on him—because he’s always so damn loud and proud of his janky operations and always claims he’ll expand into our city someday. When my victim gives three legitimate names, I hum in recognition, but grab his head and bring the knife to his face anyway.

“Who’s he working for this time?”

“I don’t know!”

I align the tip of my knife with his eye. His pupils dart around as he seeks an escape, but he doesn’t find one.

“Who gave Tarzan the money?”

“I don’t know!”

He’s telling the truth. I plunge the knife hilt deep, jerk it around, yank it out, and step away.

“Anyone have anything to add?” I ask the other two dipshits as I turn around.

They blubber and spout nonsense, but I tilt my chin, giving my men permission to end the interrogation.

I stalk to the table in the corner, wipe my knife with the cleanest towel, and slip it into its sheath. Even without a speck of blood on me, I wash my hands and forearms with soap in the small sink, just in case. After drying myself with paper towels, I roll down my sleeves, pinch my cuff links out of my pocket, and secure my cuffs before slipping on my suit jacket and buttoning the front.

“Don’t worry, boss, I’ll take care of the cleanup. Wouldn’t want to keep your date waiting, now would we?” Ermanno razzes me as he props his hip on the table.

I flip him off over my shoulder and stalk toward the door. His chuckle follows me down the hall and up the stairs.

I garner looks from the hotel’s patrons, but my employees step aside and nod in respect as I stalk through the smallest hotel I own. When the receptionist stands, I wave in a lazy greeting and dismissal as I head toward the front entrance. The doorman opens the glass door and bows in respect. I slip the old man a hundred from my vest pocket, as I always do when I pass, since he’s been a faithful informant for over three decades, and wave the valet away as I pull my keys out of my pocket.

The clock on the dash informs me I’ll catch an earful if I don’t book it, so I pull out of my VIP parking spot, dart between cars, and pull up to Natalie’s college just as she pushes the door open and starts down the sidewalk. I roll down the window, shift into park, and wait until she opens the passenger door before nodding at her bodyguards. They nod back and head off toward Natalie’s black SUV.

They’ll follow at a distance the entire evening, just in case.

Natalie plops into her seat and slams the door.

I roll up my window and grunt in response to my sister’s greeting. She squints and studies me.

“What, you’re not gonna scold me?” she asks.

I focus on navigating the dangerous streets.

“Why’re you so grumpy? You’re the one who offered to take me for a new dress.”

The exasperation in her tone earns her an unamused side glance.

“What? I could have gone shopping all on my own any time since papà told me you were marrying Camilla,” I internally wince at her use of the older Vivaldi sister’s name. I haven’t told her about the change yet, but she’ll find out soon enough. “But you told me to wait, and now here we are, the day before your engagement party.” She gives me a skeptical once over before asking, “Shouldn’t you be doing this with your soon-to-be fiancée instead of your sister?”

I swallow and turn the wheel.

“Wait, this isn’t the way to the shops. Where are we going?”

When I don’t respond, she slumps back in her seat and stares out the window, but perks up when I turn onto Serenity’s campus.

She may have only been thirteen months old when mamma died, but the way she says my name takes me back to the few times my mother scolded me as a child.

“You’re kidding, right? What is this?”

I continue around the campus to the art studio and pull up to the walkway to the side door.

“Why are we here, Nico? Isn’t this—?” she stops as Serenity shoves through the door.

In a white tank top, unbuttoned plaid overshirt, and baggy jeans, with her long hair flowing behind her, my long-term sexual fantasy and soon-to-be betrothed strides toward us. My cock hardens at her sensual curves and graceful movements, but my lust slows to a simmer as I take in her posture. With her shoulders slumped and head down, she’s not paying attention to her surroundings.

Anger sweeps through me. Even if we haven’t announced our engagement, she’s a Vivaldi. She knows better than to be complacent about her safety.

I open my door and step out in front of her. The top of her head hits my sternum. She squeaks and pinwheels as she bounces off me. I grab her shoulders and stop her from falling.

Halfway through her apology, her words dry up when she lifts her head and meets my eyes.

My anger drains away. Between the circles under her eyes, the pallor of her skin, and the misery lurking in her gaze, she doesn’t look well. Concern barrels through me, and I tighten my grip on her shoulders.

Does she hate the idea of marrying me that much?

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

I loosen my grip but can’t force my hands off her.

“Get in the car,” I demand.

She stiffens and tries to step back. I pull her closer.

“Why?”

“We’re going out,” I snarl.

“No, we’re not. I have plans tonight,” she says, but I already know she’s lying.

With access to all her devices, I’m aware of how empty her calendar is for the next few weeks.

I quirk a brow and scan the area. Sebastian stands in the grass a few paces away. Simon and Coral—my best bodyguard couple—sit on a bench near the building, pretending to be college students. Marcello leans against the hood of his car in the parking lot. With his SUV parked nose to nose with hers, my fourth best soldier is as close to her door as he can be without looking suspicious. Her driver looks between his rearview and side mirrors, scoping the area from his seat.

Mia piccola principessa is the only one not aware of how much danger she’s in.

“What, are you going to toss me in the trunk if I don’t agree to come with you? You can’t, not here,” Serenity says.

“The trunk is always an option,” I promise as I continue to survey the area.

She scoffs. Her exasperation grows when I don’t immediately look at her.

“Let go of me.”

She shoves at my arms.

The urge to toss her over my shoulder and prove her wrong nearly wins, but Natalie opens her door and steps out. I release Serenity and she stumbles away. Disappointment thrums through my balls. It would be so much fun to manhandle my feisty little woman into submission.

Imagining her struggling as I push her into the backseat and cover her with my body has my cock painfully hard in my trousers.

“What did you do?”

Natalie’s voice snaps me into the present, and for an embarrassing second, I feel like she read my illicit thoughts, but then the weight of the moment settles over my shoulders. My sister braces Serenity’s back, helping her find her balance.

Birds chirp in the trees. A motorcycle rumbles through the parking lot.

Both women look up at me like I have two heads.

Natalie steps to the side and looks back and forth between Serenity and me.

“Seriously, Nico, what did you do to piss off Serenity? I’ve never seen her this mad before.”

It figures the brat would side with her friend over her brother. I grind my teeth. Serenity pulls the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder.

“Wait, are you…” Natalie trails off as she dissects the tension between us. After a few moments, she crosses her arms over her chest and squares her shoulders toward me.

“Are you cheating on Camilla?”

“No,” I growl, truly offended.

Natalie shuffles back, the movement unsteady with the new prosthetic, and props her fists on her hips as she looks between us a few more times.

“It’s not your engagement to Camilla you’ll be announcing tomorrow, is it?” she finally asks.

Serenity sighs and pushes her hair back.

“ Mio Dio! What happened?”

“Does it matter?” I growl.

“Yeah, it kinda does. You’re already making her miserable. What the hell, Nico?”

“It’s not all his fault, Nat, so don’t take it out on him,” Serenity says.

The beast within me wakes. I long to tear apart whatever has her looking so downcast, but before I can open my mouth, Natalie speaks.

“Do you want to marry him, or is it because our families said you had to?”

Goddammit, she’s too perceptive.

I tense, expecting the worst, but Serenity surprises me with her response.

“It’s complicated, but we’ll figure it out, so don’t worry about us, okay?”

Natalie scoffs and links arms with my intended’s.

“Well, whatever’s up, I’m on your side. If anyone can handle that cavolo , it’s you.”

Serenity laughs and places her hand over my sister’s.

“Thanks, hun. I needed that. So, where are we going?”

And just like that, I may as well be a ghost. Serenity opens the door and scoots to the passenger side so Natalie can sit behind the driver’s seat.

I relieve Sebastian and my guards with a nod before dropping back into the car. As the ladies catch up and chat about nothing, I chauffeur them through the streets to the high-end shops. When I meet Serenity’s eyes through the rearview mirror, my cock throbs in my trousers, but I yank my attention to the road. I break out in a cold sweat as memories threaten to suffocate me.

Serenity’s voice locks me in the present and eases my angst.

I pull into the valet and help my sister out of the backseat. Serenity exits from the other side before I can stop her.

Frustration simmers in my veins.

Her side glance reveals her enjoyment over my irritation. I need to kiss the smirk off her tempting lips.

When she steps out of the dressing room wearing the first potential summer dress for our engagement party, I vow to make her pay for teasing me. She completely ignores me, focusing solely on Natalie as they evaluate each other’s dresses. By the third round of not quite dresses, all of which look perfectly sinful to me, I don’t dare shift on the couch for fear of revealing my hard cock. Jealousy rears its ugly head as I imagine every man in attendance tomorrow laying eyes on her and secretly lusting over what belongs to me.

This won’t do. She’s mine.

I’ve been patient enough. I gave her all week to come to terms with her future and even kept my distance despite the urgency pulsing in my veins.

When she turns around to return to her dressing room after discussing her fourth dress with Natalie, I stand and follow her.

I need a taste. Now.