Defiant Vows

Chapter Nineteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

LUCIANO

I spent the entirety of the afternoon in a meeting with my capos, deep in the bowels of discussions centered on the events of the previous night and morning. Throughout it all, my concentration wavered as images of Viviana—her wide, scared eyes and trembling fingers—remained at the forefront of my mind.

For hours, we deliberated the possibility of the Russians’ involvement in the car chase, though Viviana’s description of the driver and passengers hung over our heads. Black hair and dark tan skin hardly matches the traditional Bratva soldier, after all. Not to mention Detective Bright’s confident assertion that the Bratva had nothing to do with Elenora’s ‘accident.’

With every fact that we considered, it became more and more apparent that an unknown third party was involved. It unsettled me. Angered me.

I have a duty to the Cosa Nostra. To lead and protect and serve the family, alongside every other Made man. But Viviana… Viviana is my wife. She’s mine to protect, no one else’s.

This morning, I nearly failed her.

It was this sobering reality that prompted me to push out of my seat and end discussions for the day. I sent my capos home and returned to the penthouse as quickly as possible.

When the elevator doors open and I walk into the penthouse’s living room, disappointment pinches my chest at the sight of Lex alone on the couch. I frown.

“Where is she?” I demand in lieu of a proper greeting, unbuttoning my cuffs while striding across the wooden floors.

Lex rises from the couch, a football game playing on the wide-screen behind him. “Went to bed an hour ago. She’s a bit shaken up.”

Guilt twists in my gut like a damn knife. I rake a hand through my hair, clutching at the strands and pulling against my scalp. The final light of the dying sun casts a blueish glow across my floor, and it’ll be true night in a matter of minutes. Viviana could very well already be asleep.

If I was a better man, I’d leave her alone to rest. But I’m a selfish bastard and need to see her more than she needs sleep.

Without another word to Lex, I cross the room toward the bedroom. I don’t bother knocking and instead quietly turn the knob. A single bedside lamp illuminates the room, and a wave of relief sweeps over me at the sight of Viviana awake, leaning against two stacked pillows.

“Luc!” She sits up a bit straighter in bed, pulling the blankets higher around her waist in the process. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt with a colorful, smiling rendition of the Mona Lisa on it.

The infamous icon’s blank stare follows me as I enter the room, shutting the door behind me. “I’m glad you’re awake.” I hardly recognize the tenderness in my own voice. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone all afternoon.”

“Oh.” She blinks, clearly taken aback by my apology. “It’s fine. You needed to meet with your posse.”

Choosing to ignore her use of the word posse to describe my capos, I press my lips into a thin line and take a seat on the edge of the mattress beside her. A healthy distance separates us, though I feel her legs shift beneath the covers. “I should’ve ensured you were okay first. I’m sorry.”

“Luc—” God, I love the way she says my name— “I’m fine. Seriously. It was an exciting morning. We made a pretty good team, getaway driver.”

Exciting morning. I almost snort and settle for rolling my eyes instead.

She’s not wrong, though. We did make a decent team, under the circumstances. I meant what I said, too. I am proud of her. She remained calm in the face of danger, and her cool head found us the escape route between the bus and the guardrail at the airport. I like to think I could’ve taken care of the men in the SUV, but a gunfight would’ve risked Viviana’s safety even more than the automobile chase. Ultimately, she helped to save us both.

“Don’t roll your eyes,” she chides, though a corner of her lips quirks in an uneven smile. “Admit it. We made a good team.”

I chuckle and roll my eyes again, relenting in the same breath. “We made a good team. What have you been up to?”

“You mean after the doctor you sent finally left?” She cocks a brow. “Totally unnecessary, by the way.”

“It was necessary,” I counter in an instant. “Continue.”

Indeed, I’d called a physician on the Cosa Nostra’s payroll to check Viviana for injuries at the penthouse. Although I hadn’t seen any obvious signs of trauma or damage on her body, I didn’t conduct a full inspection. I wanted to ensure that she hadn’t bumped her head in the high speed chase.

Even so, an absence of physical wounds doesn’t mean she escaped unharmed. Emotional wounds, fear and anxiety, can hurt just as much.

She wrinkles her nose at me before sighing. “If you must know, I’ve been reading. I video-called Carlo and Biggie, too.”

My brows lift, ignoring the burn in my chest at the mention of Carlo.“Did Biggie have any important news to share?”

“Just that he misses his mom and dad.” She smiles, and the breath gutters from my lungs. “Wanna see pictures? I took screenshots.”

When I nod, she surprises me by scooting to the center of the mattress and patting the empty spot beside her. We both watch each other closely as I stand from the bed, slip my shoes off, and climb onto the spot she just vacated. The mattress is still warm, and I force myself to relax despite the sudden, childish nerves firing throughout my body.

Once I’m settled, she inches closer, and our shoulders touch. She lifts her phone and flips to the first picture, revealing that familiar brindle head and long, slobbery tongue. “Here he is after training. I stayed on the phone while Carlo put him through his exercises to see his progress.”

In the screenshot, Biggie looks like he’s smiling, though I’m fairly certain that’s just because he’s panting. A smile peels on my own mouth. “I miss him.”

“Me too.” I swear I feel her relax deeper against my shoulder, and I resist the urge to wrap my arm around her and pull her into my chest. “Apparently, he keeps trying to look for you in your office, but it’s locked. He just whines at the door.”

“God,” I groan, rolling my head back against the headboard. My hand flies to my chest, where it feels like she just pricked me with a long needle, right to the heart. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Viviana twists, just enough so that she’s facing me, but we’re still close. “I thought you’d say that. I was hoping it’d soften you up before I told you the news… He ate your brown leather loafers.”

Of course he did. I close my eyes and release a long sigh, but I can’t bring myself to actually be upset at the dog. This must be what it’s like to have children. You love them despite the fact they chew up your favorite pair of shoes.

“Luc?” Viviana prompts, poking at my chest.

I crack one eye open to peek at her. “Yes?”

“Are you mad?”

I can’t help the crooked smile that curls on my mouth. “No.”

She dramatically exhales. “Thank God. For a second, I thought you’d make me sacrifice my favorite pair of sneakers as retribution.”

My smile grows. “Not your shoes. Though I might feed him that ‘Van Gogh Away’ shirt.”

Viviana gasps with feigned shock. “My wedding dress?”

We laugh, and it feels good—so damn good—when she settles deeper into my side in the process. Her closeness gives me the confidence I need to slip an arm around her back and draw her onto my chest.

She stiffens, and for a moment, I’m worried she might pull away. Instead, with the remnants of a beautiful smile on her full lips, my little wife relaxes in my arms. We’re lounging back against a pillow, more lying down than sitting upright now. Her head rests on one pectoral, while her hand curls into a ball at the base of my sternum.

A comfortable silence drapes over us, and I find myself subconsciously counting the rise and fall of her shoulders with every breath. I’m faintly aware of her breasts, unrestrained by a bra, expanding against the side of my ribcage with each deep inhale, too. She’s always been beautiful, but every day spent in her company increases my attraction tenfold.

Several minutes pass like this, and it’s a simple pleasure that I’ve never allowed myself before. The act of holding a beautiful woman in my arms and simply enjoying her company. Her closeness. Fully clothed, it’s the most intimate moment I’ve shared with another person in my life.

I’m tempted to simply remain here, like this, enjoying Viviana’s steady breaths and the warmth of her body seeping into mine, but I can’t afford to revel in small moments of happiness. My job doesn’t allow me to stray from my responsibilities for too long, and, right now, my responsibility is to protect Viviana and the Cosa Nostra. That means uncovering the threat that sought to destroy my bloodline in one fell swoop today.

“Viviana,” I breach the silence with her name, savoring the feeling of it on my tongue. “I need you to try to remember something.”

She lifts her head to peer up at me with wide, accommodating hazel eyes. “Yeah?”

“We don’t think the Russians were behind the car chase today or Elenora’s crash, but that leaves us with nothing. We’re going back to square one. Did Elenora ever tell you about anyone or anything out of the ordinary?”

Of course, we checked her phone records weeks ago. Beyond her mother and my mother, a handful of classmates at school who have all checked out, and communications with her family in Chicago to prepare for bridging our relationship with the Outfit, we found nothing. She remained ceaselessly professional and loyally devoted to the Cosa Nostra’s cause until the end.

Viviana frowns and shakes her head. “No, I know nothing. I can’t remember the last time Elenora and I even spoke.” Her throat bobs. “I wasn’t joking when I said that you knew my sister better than I did.”

I think back to one of our first civil conversations, when I’d apologized for pushing me and Elenora’s rules on Viviana. We don’t often speak about her older sister, but when we do, I am the one who speaks of Elenora’s preferences or desires for life. Though Gio and I are as different as the sun and the moon, I know him better than most and love him just the same, bound by the shared blood in our veins. It’s hard to believe that Viviana and Elenora did not share a similar connection.

“You really weren’t very close to Elenora, were you?” I wonder aloud, hoping to understand their relationship more. “Was it always that way?”

“Not so much when we were younger,” she answers, lowering her head to my chest once more. I can’t see her face, but I hear the familiar notes of sorrow that always linger when speaking about Elenora. “Though I think Elenora always viewed me as more of a pet than a sister or friend. She’d drag me along and explain how to play with her favorite toys, then she’d get frustrated when I didn’t do it right. I think things would’ve been different if we were closer in age.”

A five year age gap will do that to two siblings. I know from experience.

I want to hear more, craving every kernel of backstory that she’s willing to share. Lately, I’ve found myself desperate to know her, every little thing that makes her tick. Every memory that makes her smile. Every jibe that earns an eye roll.

“Then when you were older?” I prompt.

“By the time I turned thirteen, my parents and Elenora shared similar aspirations for her future. She was to be the wife of the capo dei capi, and I was… an obstacle to that.” She shrugs, a small twitch of her shoulder against my ribs. “They only paid me attention when I acted out, so I started misbehaving every chance I got.”

For that reason alone, I want to punish Pietro and Gia Russo. The obvious emotional neglect they dealt to both of their daughters—by raising one like a prized calf and the other like a dog on the street—deserves to be made an example of. Despite the pressures of my youth, I knew love, and that’s more than can be said for Viviana.

I hold her tighter, leaning down to press a kiss to her brow. Her hair smells like orange blossoms and lavender, and I stay there, mouth against her hairline, inhaling her into my lungs. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault. Or Elenora’s, really, though I blamed her for most of my life.” She releases a shuddering breath. “It wasn’t until I turned seventeen that I realized my parents’ indifference was a blessing in disguise. It meant I had something that Elenora never would: an escape. From the moment they sent me to Florence, I knew I never wanted to come back.”

My breathing slows. “But you did.”

“My sister died. Of course, I came back for the funeral.”

“Would you have come back if you’d known that you had to take her place?”

There’s a pregnant pause before she shakes her head and answers honestly. “Probably not.”

I don’t know why the truth hurts. How can I fault her for wanting to run from the fate thrust upon her? It’s not the reality of her words that hurts, though. It’s the insinuation of what they might mean for us at this moment in time.

“What about now?” I ask before I talk myself out of it.

She lifts her head again. “What about it?”

I pinch my lips into a flat line and struggle to push aside the overbearing sense of desperation raking its claws down my insides. “If you knew that we’d be here, together, right now. Would you have come back?”

Viviana’s mouth parts. She blinks. “I- I don’t—”

“Do you still plan on leaving when—” I pause, swallowing the sudden tightness in my throat. “When we’re done here?”

The world around us fades away, and, suddenly, there’s only Viviana. Only this small moment of quiet hanging in the air, leaving me on the precipice of elation and devastation. Her answer, I realize, has the profound ability to destroy me, yet I long to hear it nonetheless.

At last, she answers with a simple, whispered question. “Do you want me to?”

The words are soft— meek. It’s so unlike my cattivella, and uncertainty pools in her hazel depths. That, in itself, is answer enough.

She wants to be wanted, and fuck, I want her.

“No,” I answer. And I’ve never meant anything more in my life.

We hold each other’s gaze, and Viviana presses her lips together. A muscle in her chin twitches once with emotion, but she manages a small smile and nods. “Then I’ll stay. At least until you’re tired of me,” she adds, but it’s not the joke she anticipated.

I’ll never be tired of you. Not ever. The words nearly slip off my tongue, a devout promise, but I contain the truth at the last second. I’ve long since abandoned any effort to deny my mounting affection for Viviana, but to speak those words aloud… I’m not sure either of us are ready for that.

“Good,” I growl, allowing my hands to seek her hips beneath the covers. I drag her up until she straddles my body, her legs spreading to accommodate my hips and abdomen beneath her. I stroke the length of her spine with one hand, the other wrapping around the back of her neck and drawing her closer to my chest. “Not a second sooner.”

Her eyes are rounded, resembling a fawn in the face of a predator before she relents and rests her head against the center of my chest. I feel her heart fluttering a rapid, unsteady beat in tandem with my own. A moment later, she relaxes, melting into our embrace.

She tuts, though her voice is thick with an unnamed emotion. “So domineering. Do you get off on telling me what to do?”

“No, but I could,” I quip, playfully pinching the muscles lining her neck.

Viviana shivers, and I pull the blankets and sheets up higher around our bodies. I’m still in my shirt and slacks from my meetings, but she wears nothing beyond her oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties, now pressed flush against my hips. It’s a struggle to focus on anything else, especially after sampling what she hides beneath the thin scrap of fabric last night.

I’m still stroking her back, long sweeps from the dimples above her backside to her shoulder blades, when I dare to speak again. It’s the topic that has been weighing heavily on my mind since we escaped our attackers this morning.

“Viviana, I want you to go back to Bedford.”

She stiffens and lifts her head. Our faces are inches apart. “Alone?”

“Lex will stay with you,” I answer, though I know that’s not what she meant. After all I just said to her, she must be confused that I want to send her away. “This morning demonstrated that the city isn’t safe for you right now. Until we know our enemy, I’d like you to stay in Bedford.”

She narrows her eyes. “What about you? You’re the future of the Cosa Nostra. Shouldn’t you be kept safe, too.”

“I can take care of myself.” She opens her mouth to argue, so I continue before she makes the attempt. “And it’ll be easier to do that if I know you’re safe on the estate.”

Her pretty lips fall shut, and she lowers her chin until it rests on my sternum. “Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it?” I tease, expecting far more resistance from my little spitfire.

“I know when to pick my battles,” she grumbles, clearly unhappy about it. I’m not happy about it either.

“Besides,” she yawns. “This means I’ll get to see Biggie sooner. He’s a much better snuggler than you.” As if to prove her point, she shifts and nestles deeper against me, though this feels pretty damn near perfect.

I chuckle. “Really?”

“No,” she answers, still grumpy.

When I laugh again, her little body rises and falls with the movement, and her arms tighten around my sides. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, I lean down to kiss the top of her head. “Sleep now. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

She stills, and, for a moment, I fear she’ll shove away from my chest and return to her side of the mattress. Instead, she surprises me again.

Viviana lifts her head, her cheeks a delicate shade of pink, and, with painstaking shyness, darts closer to peck my cheek. It’s so quick I almost miss it, but my skin tingles where her lips made contact. I’m struck dumb by the gesture, rendered speechless by a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you,” she murmurs once her head is pressed securely to my chest again.

“For what?” I rasp.

I feel her throat bob. “For caring about what happens to me.”

And that great, warm swelling in my chest bursts, spilling over the edges and filling every facet of my being with an overbearing, unrelenting devotion for this woman. My hellion. My duty. My wife.