Defiant Vows

Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

VIVIANA

“Do you see that man?” Luc inclines his head toward the figure in question.

He faces the opposite direction, enraptured by the scantily clad female entertainer dancing on a pole in front of him. His hair is buzzed to the scalp, and, when he turns his head, I see a thick, dark mustache growing on his upper lip. Young and handsome, nursing a glass of whiskey while the dancer works.

I nod, fingers fidgeting behind Luc’s neck. “I see him.”

“His name is Detective Peter Bright of the NYPD,” Luc murmurs, rubbing small circles beneath my exposed hipbone. My skin burns where he touches, distracting me from his words. To any onlooker, it probably looks like we’re a besotted couple, still enjoying the honeymoon phase.

“A cop?” The question comes out shaky and breathless.

“A corrupt cop,” my husband clarifies, and the tip of his nose brushes my cheekbone. “He’s been on the Bratva’s payroll for five years. Hiding evidence. Botching investigations.”

I chew on my bottom lip. “Doesn’t the Cosa Nostra have police informants, too?”

“Of course. Though I like to think we do a better job vetting our inside men. Peter Bright is a fucking idiot.”

“Right. If he wasn’t an idiot, he wouldn’t be at a Cosa Nostra club.” I look away from the man to gauge Luc’s expression. His jaw is tight. Eyes sharp and focused. Though we’ve spent the last few minutes pressed close, I’ve smelt no alcohol on his breath. “What do you plan on doing to him?”

“Me? Nothing. At least, not yet.” He surprises me by pressing a chaste kiss to the sensitive spot beneath my ear— God, it feels good—then his next words surprise me even more. “ You, on the other hand…”

My synapses misfire. My body and mind are a jumbled, uncoordinated mess. Heat flares and pulses between my legs, elicited by his slow strokes just inches from my center. At the same time, the blood drains from my cheeks at the prospect of handling a corrupt Bratva informant.

Elenora was equipped to perform such tasks. She studied tirelessly, woke up at five in the morning to workout with a personal trainer, learned five freaking languages so she’d always be the smartest in the room. And I…

I didn’t do any of that.

“What—” I clear my throat and focus on the issue at hand. “What do you want me to do?”

“Detective Bright was invited to meet with me this evening under the guise that I want to poach him from the Bratva. Really, I only want information from him, but it’s information that he won’t easily give up to just anyone.”

“But you think he’ll tell me ?”

“I think if anyone can get Detective Bright to tell the truth, it’s you.” Luc tucks a loose wave behind my ear. “You have a uncanny ability to make friends. I’ve seen you do it in Bedford. You make people comfortable, which is a rare talent in our world.”

A rare talent. I almost snort. “Talking too much isn’t a talent, Luc.”

“Who told you that you talk too much?”

“My mother and father, for starters.” I smile, though a familiar pang spreads through my chest.

He captures my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I like when you talk. Even though, most of the time you’re insulting me.”

It’s an unexpected compliment, and he seems to mean it, too. I pray that the dim lighting hides the blush warming my cheeks. I force my gaze back toward the cop. “Okay, let’s say I manage to loosen his lips. What do you want me to find out?”

Luc’s fingers pause their slow circles and rest on my hip instead. He releases my chin and sighs. “As a detective, Peter has the unique ability to dismiss murders and foul play as accidents. I’m interested to know if he did the same for your sister’s car accident.”

I freeze. The air catches in my lungs. “You think the Bratva had something to do with Elenora’s death?”

“Possibly. There are too many strange circumstances regarding the car accident. And the Russians are not above murdering women. Especially a woman engaged to their enemy.”

A chill rakes down my spine.

Elenora’s death at the hands of a drunk behind the wheel was tragic. A horrible, unfair accident. But if she was murdered as an innocent in the crosshairs of a bloody feud… Anger flares in my heart.

“Why not just get him to talk the usual way?” I bite back, suddenly sick to my stomach. It has nothing to do with the various cocktails I’ve consumed this evening.

“We’re not above resorting to more drastic measures.” Luc leans back against the leather. “But I’d like to try this way first. It’s less messy.”

I frown. For a heartbeat, I consider refusing. I don’t know how to interrogate a cop.

But Elenora wouldn’t hesitate. She’d do what was needed of her to serve the Cosa Nostra—to serve Luc. And, knowing this could uncover the true culprit behind her death, how can I refuse?

I push off Luc’s lap, pulling my dress down to cover more of my thighs. “Anything else I should know?”

A slow smirk pulls on his lips as he holds my gaze. “Just that he’s a horny bastard. He’s been eye-fucking that dancer for the past hour.” He nods toward the entertainer on the pole. “And he’s had about two drinks in half that time.”

“Great,” I mutter. “A horny, corrupt and drunk cop. This’ll be fun.”

Luc’s smile widens. “It might surprise you. Think of it like a game. And remember, I’ll be right here.”

That’s some small consolation, I suppose.

Without another word, I begin the short walk to Detective Peter Bright. Along the way, I snag a single clear shot from a passing tray and throw it back, welcoming the bite down my throat. If I’m going to succeed, I’ll need the liquid courage.

This is a game, I remind myself. A show. Just like my theater days in high school, I’m playing a role in some twisted performance. I can do this. Seconds before reaching the couch, I slow my breathing, roll my shoulders back, and force a vapid, drunk smile on my lips. Detective Bright is still staring at the dancer rotating on the pole, so he doesn’t notice me stumble closer, pretending to wobble on an obnoxiously tall heel before falling onto the couch beside him.

Only then does he look at me, brows raised and eyes appraising. He does a quick sweep of my appearance, lingering on my cleavage and the tops of my thighs. Apparently, he likes what he sees and smiles. “Hello, there.”

“Sorry,” I giggle sheepishly, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “I probably shouldn’t have had that last shot.”

“Famous last words.” He crosses an ankle over a knee and tilts his body toward mine, the dancer on the platform forgotten. He must deem me an easier target for the night. “Believe me. In my profession, I’ve heard them more times than I can count.”

“ Oh, yeah?” I prompt, feigning interest. “What do you do?”

“Detective with the NYPD,” he answers, and there’s pride emanating from his voice.

God, that was too easy. I cock a brow and lean an inch closer to him on the couch. “One of New York’s finest in a place like this?”

He chuckles. “A cop can’t enjoy an evening in a nightclub?”

“But this isn’t just any nightclub, is it?” I murmur, flicking my gaze to his mouth for a fraction of a second. I haven’t had the chance to flirt much, but I’ve watched a thousand episodes of reality dating shows, which counts for something. “You’re in Luciano Venturi’s snake den,” I whisper my own husband’s name like a curse. “That’s awfully bold for a cop.”

Detective Bright’s smile tightens, and I worry that I’ve put him on guard. He lifts a heavy shoulder and reaches into his breast pocket, plucking a cigarette from its depths.

“No more bold than a pretty little thing like you.” He offers it to me. “Besides, I was invited.”

I take the cigarette from his hand and pinch it between my lips, allowing him to light me. I don’t smoke, though I dabbled once or twice during a rebellious streak in high school. I take a long drag before handing it back to him.

“How exciting,” I drawl, extending one arm over the back of the couch. My fingertips are dangerously close to grazing the back of his neck. Behind us, dark graphite eyes watch my every move. “Are you going to tell me why you were invited?”

“You first,” he counters. His eyes have spent the better part of our conversation perusing my body.

My smile turns bitter. “I’m trying to get the Snake himself to notice me.”

It’s not a lie. Not really. I might be married to Luciano, but he is far from mine. As much as I hate to admit it, I came to the club tonight lonely and desperate for his attention.

Detective Bright exhales a cloud of smoke, and the heat pushes against my cheeks. “Why would you want that?”

I shrug. “Why does anyone?”

“You’re wasting your time. Rumor is, Venturi just got married.”

If I had any doubts about whether Detective Bright knew my true identity, they’re gone. A smug sense of satisfaction settles over me. It emboldens me.

“Yeah, but no one has ever seen his wife.” I lean in close and scrape my teeth along my bottom lip. “ That is why I’m here.”

“I’ll tell you something,” he drawls, and I can smell the liquor on his breath. “A man like Venturi is only gonna disappoint you, baby. You need someone to take care of you.”

“Someone like you?” I challenge, tilting my head. Our lips are inches apart. “Sorry, detective, but you’re not my type.”

“You like them a little rough around the edges, eh?” He blows out another puff of cigarette smoke, and I almost gag as it fans my face. “Well, there’s more to me behind the badge.”

I lift my brows and purr, “Go on.”

“You obviously know of the Venturi family. Have you heard of the Antanova’s?”

Here we go. I nod and bat my lashes, maintaining an air of innocence. “Only a little. The Russian mob, right?”

He glows with ignorant pride. “That’s right, sweetheart. I’ve got those bastards in my back pocket. I’m their police informant. They rely on me for all sorts of shit.”

I pretend to hang on every stupid word that spills from his big mouth. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol, or if he’s truly so stupid and desperate to have sex with me. Regardless, I sense the information I need is right on the tip of his tongue, so I press harder.

“You’re serious?” I breathe, lips parted in feigned-awe. “Wow, that’s… What do you do for them?”

He waves off the question. “Whatever they want. For a price, of course.”

“Cover up a murder?”

“Sure, yeah.”

My heart lodges in my throat, but I force myself to continue. I allow my free hand to reach between us, settling on his knee and absently tracing little swirls on the fabric of his pants. He watches my fingertips with ravenous hunger.

“I was here last week and heard some girls talking about a car accident a month ago. Apparently, the daughter of some big capo was killed. Emilia? No, Elenora, maybe?” I shake my head, as if her name doesn’t matter. “Anyway, one of the girls said it might’ve been the Russians that killed her. Was that you ?”

Detective Bright purses his lips and narrows his eyes, seemingly deep in thought. “No, that wasn’t us. I would’ve remembered.”

The breath gutters from my lungs. I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed. Maybe both?

He continues, though I’m only half listening. “I did help cover up the murder of some Irish mobster last month, though. Blew up his apartment and blamed it on a gas leak. Anyway, how would you like to—”

“As fun as this has been,” I push away from the couch and stand, cutting him off. “I think I’m going to head out.”

His mouth hangs open in disbelief, but I’m already glancing over my shoulder. My eyes immediately land on Luc, a vague shadow in the depths of his private booth, but I know he hasn’t stopped watching me the entire time. Lex and Freddy stand guard.

I allow one corner of my lips to curl in a smile before I dip my chin, a barely discernible nod. Then, Luc stands, positioning himself at the booth’s entrance. He leans against the table, bracing both hands on either side of him, waiting. All the while, Lex and Freddy begin moving toward me and Detective Bright, and I realize what is happening.

“Actually,” I coo, leveling my best smirk at the still-gaping detective. “I think my husband would like to see you now.”

“Husband?” Detective Bright’s alarmed gaze follows mine, and I see the moment he recognizes Luc’s ominous outline through the darkness. The whites of his eyes flare, and a vein in his forehead pulses with startling vigor.

At the last second, knowing that Luc’s eyes are devouring my every move, I decide to play a little game. I extend a hand for Detective Bright to take. “Come on, Detective. I know he’ll want to meet you.”